recurring to her, she turned more away from the light, so as to effectually conceal herself from the young lady’s observation.  This she was enabled to do, although Mary Williams came once or twice so near as to brush her garments.  How oppressively did her heart beat, at such moments!  Old thoughts and old feelings came rushing back upon her, and in the contrast they occasioned between the past and the present, she was almost overwhelmed with despondency.  Customer after customer came in, as one and another retired, many of whose faces were familiar to Mary as old friends and acquaintances.  At last, however, after waiting nearly two hours, she made out to get an interview with Mrs.—.

“Well, Miss, what do you want?” asked that personage, as Mary came up before her where she still stood at the counter, for she had observed her waiting in the store for some time.  Mrs.—­either did not remember, or cared not to remember, her old customer, who had spent, with her sisters, many hundreds of dollars in her store, in times past.

“I have a couple of fine wrought capes that I should like to sell,” Mary said, in a timid, hesitating voice, unrolling, at the same time, the articles she named.

“Are they French?” asked Mrs.—­, without pausing in her employment of rolling up some goods, to take and examine the articles proffered her.

“No, ma’am; they are some of my own and sister’s work.”

“They won’t do, then, Miss.  Nothing in the way of fine collars and capes will sell, unless they are French.”

Mary felt chilled at heart as Mrs.—­said this, and commenced slowly rolling up her capes, faint with disappointment.  As she was about turning from the counter, Mrs.—­said, in rather an indifferent tone,

“Suppose you let me look at them.”

“I am sure you will think them very beautiful,” Mary replied, quickly unrolling her little bundle.  “They have been wrought with great care."’

“Sure enough, they are quite well done,” Mrs.—­said, coldly, as she glanced her eyes over the capes.  “Almost equal in appearance to the French.  But they are only domestic; and domestic embroidered work won’t bring scarcely anything.  What do you ask for these?”

“We have set no price upon them; but think that they are richly worth five or six dollars apiece.”

“Five or six dollars!” ejaculated Mrs.—­, in well feigned surprise, handing back; suddenly, the capes.  “O! no, Miss;—­American goods don’t bring arty such prices.”

“Then what will you give for them, Madam?”

“If you feel like taking two dollars apiece for them, you can leave them.  But I am not particular,” Mrs.—­said, in a careless tone.

“Two dollars!” repeated Mary, in surprise.  “Surely, Mrs.—­, they are worth more than two dollars apiece!”

“I’m not at all anxious to give you even that for them,” said Mrs.—.  “Not at all; for I am by no means sure that I shall ever get my money back again.”