Mary replied, in haste and deep anxiety, to the Post-Office, as directed; she spoke of Dorcas's trouble, Skaife's arrival and anxious search for her, but not one word of Miles! and then her heart sunk in utter despondency. "Not even now!" she uttered, as the big tears fell on her boy's sleeping face; "oh, he must hate me much!" Then succeeded a fear lest Mary should seek her, or Skaife, or Dorcas; she would fly again. Among her employers was one lady who had taken a deep interest in her; she had a daughter about Minnie's age, and married to a Maltese merchant; she was about to become a mother herself, and, being called upon to join her husband in Malta, her mother implored Minnie, who was thought a young widow, to accompany her as nurse to the expected child. The offer was a tempting one; thus she could fly, fly all, and in change of scene, more than place, still, busy thought. A large offer was proposed to her to wean her own child when another should claim her care, but this she resolutely refused. "You will be too delicate to nurse both!" exclaimed the lady. "I shall gain strength for all, Madame," she replied, with confidence. "I am stronger than I seem," and she thought of all she had mentally borne and wrestled successfully with, and mere physical labour could not daunt her strong heart. She waited upon the lady, and, disdaining all deceit, at the risk of losing possibly the situation which she much desired to obtain, told all her story. She had truly said, when asked, that she had no husband, and others concluded he was dead. At all events, as we have said, assuredly on the Continent people more charitably judge a sister woman by present good conduct, than they seek, by diving from _curiosity_ into the past, to discover, perhaps, some deep sorrow, or more deeply repented error. We deny that our Continental neighbours are less virtuous than Englishwomen, _in general_; but they are less severe, more charitable, less censorious. Minnie's candour raised her high in the opinion of those, now doubly bound to her, from pity. All her energies were called into play, to meet the emergency of outfit--money was required. The lady advanced her some, still she required more. We are not relating a mere tale of romance, where fairy and unexpected gifts come to help the toiling and virtuous, but a story of everyday life, where the good and conscientious, by undeserved misfortunes, are thrown in much trouble, degradation, poverty, and _often_ want; where the fingers once destined to be jewelled, must learn to toil, that the lip which had been born to command a host of servants, may eat its daily bread.