She applied for a school in a neighboring town. One laughed; another frowned; all refused. The minister was right, in point of fact: society would protect itself at her expense. She could not obtain a situation to teach. She gave up the point in despair. She asked for work in one of the factories. It was given to her simply because the agent, who was anxious to conciliate Eugene, dared not refuse her. The operatives, with one voice, protested. Some of them were sinners; but these protested louder than the others. It was a shame to admit “such a person” into the mills with respectable girls. They threatened to stop work; and Mary fled in terror from the tempest she had created. Eugene heard of all these things, and he asked if there was a God in heaven. He was indignant, almost furious. He went to Mary; and in a tumult of woe, she told him the truth. Then, more than ever before, he wished to fold her in his arms, make her his own, and bravely breast the storm of worldliness that would beat against them both. He went to the mill agent, and reproached him for permitting Mary to be driven from the factory by a mere prejudice. She had done no wrong; she was more free from stain than half who had fled from her presence. The agent knew it. He could not help it. If Mary would stay, he would protect her. There was a principle at stake, and Mary went back to the mill. The girls withdrew in a body. Eugene paid the damages of the suspension. Other girls came, and there was a tempest. Society was protecting itself. Money, for once, fought the battle of the oppressed. It conquered in the end. Half the girls returned. They could not contend against money. Indignant fathers and brothers threatened to break down the dam, to burn the mill, to disable the wheel; and the great building was guarded day and night like an arsenal in revolutionary days. Again the factory worked all its spindles. Those in the mill who came in contact with Mary began to love her. She was a true Christian; not after the forms of the church alone, but after the law of God and Christ, which she had transcribed upon her own heart. One who worked by her side was taken down with a violent fever. She was far away from home; and Mary tended the loom all day, and watched all night with the sick one. “Truly, this girl with a bad reputation is better than any of us,” said the girls in the mill. Mary became pale and feeble herself. Eugene heard of it. She had lived down her bad name. Those who knew her loved her; and there was not an evil-minded man that dared look disrespectfully upon her. She visited the sick and the sorrowing; she spoke true and holy words to the erring; she was the friend of all who needed a friend. Eugene went to her. He insisted that she should leave the mill, and nurse the sick girl, if she could not trust this sacred duty to another.