a moment sternly and silently, until her gaze caused him to turn
his countenance from her, abashed at the mute rebuke she had
administered. The pride of by-gone days had returned, with the
unfeeling remarks of the clerk, and Mrs. Wentworth again felt all the
bitterness of her position.

"I did not say I was an applicant for charity," she said at last "All
I desire to know is, if Mr. Swartz is in."

"I believe he is," replied the clerk. "Do you wish to see him, ma'am."

His tone was more respectful. Even poverty can command respect at
times, and the threadbare garment be looked upon with as much
difference as the gorgeous silken dress. It was so at this moment.

"Yes, I desire to see him," answered Mrs. Wentworth. "Be kind enough
to inform Mr. Swartz that a lady has called upon him."

As she used the word "lady," the clerk elevated his eyebrows, and a
smile of pity stole over his features. Lady! Could the miserable
looking object, who stood before him have any claim to the title. Poor
woman! She knew not that the outward form of woman is the only
recognized title to the term. What though the mind be filled with the
loftiest sentiment, and stored with the richest lore of learning. What
though the heart be purer than the snow which covers the mountain
tops, can they ever claim a position among the favorites of fortune,
when accompanied by beggary? Philanthropists, and philosophers tell us
they can, but the demon, Prejudice, has erected a banner, which can
never be pulled down, until man resumes the patriarchal life of
centuries ago, and society, the mockery by which we claim civilization
was built up, is removed from the earth, and mankind can mingle with
each other in free and unrestricted intercourse.

That day will never come.

But to return to our story. The clerk looked pityingly at Mrs.
Wentworth for a moment, then walked to the door of Mr. Swartz's
office, and knocked.

The door was opened.

"There is a _lady_ here who wants to see you on private business," he
said with emphasis.

"Shust tell de lady I will see her in a few minutes," replied the
voice of Mr. Swartz, from the interior of the room.

The clerk withdrew, after closing the door, and advanced to where Mrs.
Wentworth was standing.

"Mr. Swartz will see you in a few moments, he said."

"Go back for me, and tell him my business is urgent, and will admit of
no delay," she answered.

Her thoughts were of the little girl, who lay ill on the b