At the appointed time I was kindly received, and soon I was listening to her troubles; but before rehearsing them she called my attention to a framed diploma on her wall, a teacher's certificate.
"Have you taught school?" I inquired.
She simply answered, "Yes."
"Are you not taking great chances by having that where strangers can see it?" I asked.
"No," she replied; "I do my own work, and have a patent lock, so that none but my husband and me have access to this room."
I was still more at sea. Over the head of her bed hung a picture which
I never shall forget. Let me endeavor to describe it:
The beautiful nude form of a young woman lay on a couch. Horror was depicted upon her countenance, and she was frantically but vainly struggling to free herself from the great boa-constrictor which had coiled his ugly thick body about her. Standing beside her and looking on with a dreadful expression of devilish satisfaction was a representation of Satan, whilst coming in at the open door reeled a young man in a woeful state of intoxication.
The old, old dreadful story! When, oh! when will they ever profit by this only too true picture, being really enacted every day, every hour, by some mother's wandering girl?
Would that I might be able to tell you that this ex-school-teacher yielded to our Lord and Savior, but alas! that boa-constrictor had too firm a grip on her. Listen to her story:
"Less than four years ago, I was a happy young woman, living with my parents in the South, in a modest but very happy home, and surrounded by loving friends.