“Where shall I go?” was the ever prominent question, repeated again and again, to the end of the journey.

At last the train stopped at the busy city; the close of the journey had come, but no end to her restless thoughts.  While she was thus musing, she was aroused by the usual, “Have a hack? a hack, miss?” This seemed to indicate her next step.  She handed her baggage check to the person who addressed her, and directed him to drive to a public house.

Seated in the carriage she was somewhat relieved of the feeling of uncertainty which had oppressed her.  Alas, the poor girl did not know that at that moment the woman of evil deeds was directing the coachman where to carry the helpless victim.

And thus her fate was sealed; her child was born in a house of sin, and its little eyes first opened in its dark, immoral atmosphere.

The woman had managed all so cunningly that Margaret did not know but that she was in a respectable house, nor see her until it was too late.  Then, knowing her helplessness, the woman, by subtle flatteries and approaches in her hour of womanly need, at a time when she was weak and susceptible to seemingly kind attentions, won her confidence.  The child of circumstances caught at the broken staff held out for her as a drowning one seeks any hold in a storm.  In her hour of sorrow and destitution, she accepted the only aid which was proffered her, for aid she must have, and she was not able to command her choice.

Day by day the woman into whose hands she had fallen, worked herself into her life and affection, until at length Margaret began to think there might be worse persons than those about her, and greater sins in the wide world than those which were committed beneath the roof which now sheltered her.

Creatures of circumstance as we are, we are too apt to attribute to our own strength of purpose the virtue, so called, in which we pride ourselves.  Women in happy homes, by pleasant hearths, and surrounded with every means of social enjoyment, take credit to themselves for their upright demeanor, and indulge in bitter denunciation of those, who, less fortunately circumstanced, yield to the tempter’s allurements.  Little do they think of what they themselves might have been, but for the protection which some good angel has thrown around them.  It would be well for us all to pause and think, and ask our souls the question which this thought suggests.

As has been seen, Margaret Thorne came not willingly to the home in which she now was, neither did she willingly remain.  Circumstances not of her own making, governed her; and may it not be there are many similarly situated.  To such the world owes its pity, not its condemnation.

The “social evil” is not confined to the houses which the public marks as its only abode, but is to be found in many of those in which the marriage ceremony is supposed to have insured chastity.