I was prosecuted, and found guilty.
The tale of my disgrace is now complete, Mr. Holmcroft.
No matter whether I was innocent or not, the shame of it remains—I have been imprisoned for theft.
"The matron of the prison was the next person who took an interest in me.
She reported favorably of my behavior to the authorities and when I had served my time (as the phrase was among us) she gave me a letter to the kind friend and guardian of my later years—to the lady who is coming here to take me back with her to the Refuge.
"From this time the story of my life is little more than the story of a woman's vain efforts to recover her lost place in the world.
"The matron, on receiving me into the Refuge, frankly acknowledged that there were terrible obstacles in my way.
But she saw that I was sincere, and she felt a good woman's sympathy and compassion for me.
On my side, I did not shrink from beginning the slow and weary journey back again to a reputable life from the humblest starting-point—from domestic service.
After first earning my new character in the Refuge, I obtained a trial in a respectable house.
I worked hard, and worked uncomplainingly; but my mother's fatal legacy was against me from the first.
My personal appearance excited remark; my manners and habits were not the manners and habits of the women among whom my lot was cast.
I tried one place after another—always with the same results.
Suspicion and jealousy I could endure; but I was defenseless when curiosity assailed me in its turn.
Sooner or later inquiry led to discovery.
Sometimes the servants threatened to give warning in a body—and I was obliged to go.
Sometimes, where there was a young man in the family, scandal pointed at me and at him—and again I was obliged to go.
If you care to know it, Miss Roseberry can tell you the story of those sad days.
I confided it to her on the memorable night when we met in the French cottage; I have no heart repeat it now.
After a while I wearied of the hopeless struggle.
Despair laid its hold on me—I lost all hope in the mercy of God.
More than once I walked to one or other of the bridges, and looked over the parapet at the river, and said to myself
'Other women have done it: why shouldn't I?'
"You saved me at that time, Mr. Gray—as you have saved me since.
I was one of your congregation when you preached in the chapel of the Refuge You reconciled others besides me to our hard pilgrimage.
In their name and in mine, sir, I thank you.
"I forget how long it was after the bright day when you comforted and sustained us that the war broke out between France and Germany.
But I can never forget the evening when the matron sent for me into her own room and said,
'My dear, your life here is a wasted life.
If you have courage enough left to try it, I can give you another chance.'
"I passed through a month of probation in a London hospital.
A week after that I wore the red cross of the Geneva Convention—I was appointed nurse in a French ambulance.
When you first saw me, Mr. Holmcroft, I still had my nurse's dress on, hidden from you and from everybody under a gray cloak.
"You know what the next event was; you know how I entered this house.
"I have not tried to make the worst of my trials and troubles in telling you what my life has been.
I have honestly described it for what it was when I met with Miss Roseberry—a life without hope.
May you never know the temptation that tried me when the shell struck its victim in the French cottage!
There she lay—dead!
Her name was untainted.
Her future promised me the reward which had been denied to the honest efforts of a penitent woman.
My lost place in the world was offered back to me on the one condition that I stooped to win it by a fraud.
I had no prospect to look forward to; I had no friend near to advise me and to save me; the fairest years of my womanhood had been wasted in the vain struggle to recover my good name.
Such was my position when the possibility of personating Miss Roseberry first forced itself on my mind.
Impulsively, recklessly—wickedly, if you like—I seized the opportunity, and let you pass me through the German lines under Miss Roseberry's name.
Arrived in England, having had time to reflect, I made my first and last effort to draw back before it was too late.
I went to the Refuge, and stopped on the opposite side of the street, looking at it.
The old hopeless life of irretrievable disgrace confronted me as I fixed my eyes on the familiar door; the horror of returning to that life was more than I could force myself to endure.
An empty cab passed me at the moment. The driver held up his hand.
In sheer despair I stopped him, and when he said
'Where to?' in sheer despair again I answered,