166 MADEMOISELLE ANGELA.

she made up her mind instantly as to what she
would do.

The young girl sat down to the work which was
pointed out to her, and Mademoiselle Angela, order-
ing a book to be brought to her, and dismissing the
woman, with the desire that no one should interrupt
her that morning, seated herself on the sofa, and
began to read. ‘The room was so still that the quick
movement of Marianne’s needle and the turning of
the pages of the book were audible. At length
Mademoiselle Angela, closing the book, said, “‘ Yours
is a melancholy occupation ; all day long, the whole
year through, working for sorrow, or what is worse,
the mockery of sorrow.”

The young girl sighed.

“It must be,” continued the actress, “a weary
trade to you.”

“T am,” said Marianne, “so thankful to be
employed, that to me it is not so.”

“ Have you then known distress?” asked the other,
but in so kind a tone that Marianne continued—

“IT have a father dependent upon me—we have
been very unfortunate,” she said, hardly keeping back
the tears ; ‘‘ very unfortunate in many ways. I have
feared starvation almost for us both, I have feared—
Oh, I cannot tell what I have feared—London is an
awful place for any one who is friendless—for a young
girl especially.”

The actress laid down her book, and taking a chair
sat down by the table where the girl was working.

“Tam a stranger to you,’ she said, very kindly;
‘* you know nothing of me; can feel no reason why
you should make a confidant of me—yet I wish you
would do so.”