Radcliffe were laid aside
with disgust, and Bulwer, James, and others, took their place. But she
descended a step, many steps lower, and, supplied by the governess,
eagerly devoured the very worst fictions of Eugene Sue and George
Sand. Next she was heard discussing and excusing the most heinous
crimes of which human nature can be guilty.
Her parents heard with horror her freely expressed sentiments, and
wondered where she had inhaled such lax ideas. They never thought of
looking into her library for the cause, or at the unprincipled
governess. The poison began to do its work; she could no longer live
this tame life; she must have something more exciting, more
exhilarating. The resolution was formed; with a beating heart she
collected her mother's jewels; took one long look at her indulgent
parents; bade a silent farewell to the scenes of her happy childhood,
and left the house forever. No warning voice implored her to return;
no hand was stretched out to save. On, on she went, until she reached
the far-off city. Its lights dazzled her, its noise confused her, but
she never regretted the peaceful home she had so culpably deserted.
Her plan was to go on the stage, and become a renowned actress, like
the heroine of one of her French novels.
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