now that you are better than me, and you must not take so
to heart my wild words; I am miserable and unhappy; I do not always know
what I say."

The eyes of the sisters met; Sophy flung her arms about Mary's neck and
kissed her.

"You forgive me, Mary?"

The hunchback smiled through her tears--and such a smile, so eloquent,
so full of love and grateful affection, that Sophy felt that she was
more than forgiven.

"Why are you unhappy, Sophy?" asked Mrs. Grimshawe, seizing the
favourable moment to make a more lasting impression on her mind.

"Because we are so poor."

"We have endured many evils worse than poverty."

"None, none. That one word comprises them all. To be hungry, shabby,
despised; and you wonder that my soul rebels against it?"

"Are not unkind words and reproaches more hard to bear?"

Sophy hung her head and was silent.

"Mary would eat dry bread for a week and be cheerful and resigned, and
wear a coarse, shabby garment, without shedding a single tear. These are
hardships, my girl, but they do not affect the heart, or cause one pang
of remorse. But, seriously, Sophy,--Do you think that you would improve
your present condition, or render yourself happier, by marrying a man
you did not love, for money?"

"Yes." This was said emphatically.

"Oh, do it not, my child! It is a great sin to enter into a solemn
covenant, and swear at God's holy altar to love and honour and obey a
man for whom you have neither affection nor respect. No blessing from
God can follow such an union. Nature would assert her rights, and punish
you severely for having broken her laws."

"Nonsense, mother! The thing is done every day, and I see none of these
evil results. Johanna Carter married old George Hughes for his money,
and they live very comfortably together. I will accept, like her, the
first good offer that comes in my way."

Mary writhed, and tried for some time to make her thoughts audible: at
last she succeeded in gasping out--

"Robert Mason!--not him--not him!"

"Robert Mason! What, bully Bob? Does he admire me? Well, Mary, I will
quiet your apprehensions by assuring you, that the regard is not mutual.
And what would the old witch his mother say?"

"Let her never have it to say, that her bad son married Daniel
Grimshawe's daughter," said Dorothy, indignantly.

"Oh, but I should like to plague that old fiend, by letting her imagine
that I encouraged her son. She has always something spiteful to say to
m