one that may
interest you, "The Influence of Culture on Morality." I beg that you
will accept the copy I shall have the pleasure of sending you, and that,
at some future date, you will honour me with your remarks thereon.'

Which epistle Nancy cruelly read aloud to Mary, with a sprightliness and
sarcastic humour not excelled by her criticisms of 'the Prophet' in days
gone by. Mary did not quite understand, but she saw in this behaviour a
proof of the wonderful courage with which Nancy faced her troubles.

A week had passed, and no news from America.

'I don't care,' said Nancy. 'Really and truly, I don't care. Yesterday
I never once thought of it--never once looked for the postman. The worst
is over now, and he may write or not, as he likes.'

Mary felt sure there would be an explanation of such strange silence.

'Only illness or death would explain it so as to make me forgive him.
But he isn't ill. He is alive, and enjoying himself.'

There was no bitterness in her voice. She seemed to have outlived all
sorrows and anxieties relative to her husband.

Mary suggested that it was always possible to call at Mr. Vawdrey's
house and make inquiries of Mrs. Baker.

'No, I won't do that. Other women would do it, but I won't. So long as I
mayn't tell the truth, I should only set them talking about me; you know
how. I see the use, now, of having a good deal of pride. I'm only sorry
for those letters I wrote when I wasn't in my senses. If he writes now,
I shall not answer. He shall know that I am as independent as he is.
What a blessed thing it is for a woman to have money of her own! It's
because most women haven't, that they're such poor, wretched slaves.'

'If he knew you were in want,' said her companion, 'he would never have
behaved like this.'

'Who can say?--No, I won't pretend to think worse of him than I do.
You're quite right. He wouldn't leave his wife to starve. It's certain
that he hears about me from some one. If I were found out, and lost
everything, some one would let him know. But I wouldn't accept support
from him, now. He might provide for his child, but he shall never
provide for me, come what may--never!'

It was in the evening, after dinner. Nancy had a newspaper, and was
reading the advertisements that offered miscellaneous employment.

'What do you think this can be?' she asked, looking up after a long
silence. '"To ladies with leisure. Ladies desiring to add to their
income by easy and pleasa