ere in ignorance of her real position, and in the way
of men who, though old enough to know better, were still capable of
folly,--as what man is not, when a girl of eighteen is concerned? "I
hope," she added, "that the earl will do something for her. Certainly he
ought to, when he knows all that his grandmother did, and what her
intentions must have been. He ought to make her a little allowance; that
is the least he can do,--not, to be sure, such a provision as we all
hoped Lady Mary was going to make for her, but enough to live upon. Mr.
Furnival, I believe, has written to him to that effect."

"Hush!" cried the vicar's wife; indeed she had been making signs to the
other lady, who stood with her back to the door, for some moments. Mary
had come in while this conversation was going on. She had not paid any
attention to it; and yet her ear had been caught by the names of Lady
Mary, and the earl, and Mr. Furnival. For whom was it that the earl
should make an allowance enough to live upon? whom Lady Mary had not
provided for, and whom Mr. Furnival had written about? When she sat down
to the needle-work in which she was helping Mrs. Vicar, it was not to be
supposed that she should not ponder these words,--for some time very
vaguely, not perceiving the meaning of them; and then with a start she
woke up to perceive that there must be something meant, some one,--even
some one she knew. And then the needle dropped out of the girl's hand,
and the pinafore she was making fell on the floor. Some one! it must be
herself they meant! Who but she could be the subject of that earnest
conversation? She began to remember a great many conversations as
earnest, which had been stopped when she came into the room, and the
looks of pity which had been bent upon her. She had thought in her
innocence that this was because she had lost her godmother, her
protectress,--and had been very grateful for the kindness of her friends.
But now another meaning came into everything. Mrs. Bowyer had accompanied
her visitor to the door, still talking, and when she returned her face
was very grave. But she smiled when she met Mary's look, and said
cheerfully,--

"How kind of you, my dear, to make all those pinafores for me! The little
ones will not know themselves. They never were so fine before."

"Oh, Mrs. Bowyer," cried the girl, "I have guessed something! and I want
you to tell me! Are you keeping me for charity, and is it I that am
left--without any pr