“I suppose you have a good reason for it, Miss Mary.”

“I think I have, Mr. Martin,” she replied, smiling.  “We cannot live, and educate James and William, unless we have a regular income; and I cannot shut my eyes to the fact that what we have cannot last long—­nor to another, that I am the only one in the family from whom any regular income can be expected.”

“And you are willing to devote yourself to incessant toil, night and day, for this purpose?”

“Certainly I am,” Mary replied, with a quiet, cheerful smile.

“But it never will do, Mr. Martin, will it?” Mrs. Turner remarked.

“Why not, Mrs. Turner?”

“Because, it is not altogether respectable.”

“I do not see any thing disrespectable in the business; but, with Mary’s motive for entering into it, something highly respectable and honorable,” Mr. Martin replied, with unusual earnestness.

Mrs. Turner was silenced.

“And you really think of learning the business, and then setting it up?” said Mr. Martin, turning to Mary, with a manifest interest, which she felt, rather than perceived.

“Certainly I do, if mother does not positively object.”

“Then I wish you all success in your praiseworthy undertaking.  And may the end you have in view support you amid the wearisome toil.”

There was a peculiar feeling in Mr. Martin’s tone that touched the heart of Mary, she knew not why.  But certain it was, that she felt doubly nerved for the task she had proposed to herself.

As Mr. Martin wended his way homeward that evening, he thought of Mary Turner with an interest new to him.  He had never been a great deal in her company while he boarded with her mother, because Mary was always too busy about household affairs, to be much in the parlor.  But what little he had seen of her, made him like her as a friend.  He also liked Mrs. Turner, and had from these reasons, frequently called in to see them since their removal.  After going into his room, on his return home that evening, he sat down and remained for some time in a musing attitude.  At length he got up, and took a few turns across the floor, and again seated himself, saying as he did so—­

“If that’s the stuff she’s made of, she’s worth looking after.”

From this period, Mr. Martin called to see Mrs. Turner more frequently, and as Mary, who had promptly entered upon the duties of a dress-maker’s apprentice, came home every evening, he had as many opportunities of being with her and conversing with her as he desired.  Amiable accomplished, and intelligent, she failed not to make, unconsciously to herself, a decided impression upon the young man’s heart.  Nor could she conceal from herself that she was (sic) happier in his company than she was at any other time.