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 provision, and that Mr. Furnival has written--"

She could not finish her sentence, for it was very bitter to her, as may
be supposed.

"I don't know what you mean, my dear," cried the vicar's wife.
"Charity,--well, I suppose that is the same as love,--at least it is so in
the 13th chapter of 1st Corinthians. You are staying with us, I hope, for