“But, my dear child,” said Martha, “how will you manage? You ought not to go alone. It would not be proper.”
“I will try it,” said Helen, though her timid nature shrank from the trial. “If necessary, I must get a lodging nearer the theatre.”
“And leave us? I should miss you sadly.”
“Oh, I should expect you to come too,” said Helen. “We would hire rooms close together. But perhaps it will not be necessary.”
So Helen undertook to return from the theatre alone. She might indeed have had her father’s escort by asking for it, but she feared it would prove an interruption to his labors, and perhaps deprive him of the rest which he required. But an incident happened on the second evening which convinced her that it was not safe for her to walk home unattended.
Singing at a popular theatre, Helen’s face naturally became familiar to those who frequented it. There were some among them who were struck by her beauty, and desired to see her off the stage. It happened that a young man was standing near the door of the theatre one evening when Helen emerged from it. He quietly followed her until she reached an unfrequented side street through which she was obliged to pass, and then pressed to her side.
“Good evening, Miss Ford,” he said, accommodating his pace to hers.
Helen looked up startled, and met an unfamiliar face. She remained silent through terror.
“Good evening,” repeated her unwelcome companion. “I hardly think you heard me the first time.”
“I don’t know you, sir.”