As she knocked and rang in vain,
the fact flashed upon her that she was intentionally excluded.
She turned away, overwhelmed with a momentary despair. What was
she to do? There stood Joseph! She ran back to him, and told him
they had shut her out.
"It makes me miserable," she went on, "to think of the poor man
calling me, and me nowhere to answer. The worst of it is, I seem
the only person he has any faith in, and what I have been telling
him about the father of us all, whose love never changes, will
seem only the idler tale, when he finds I am gone, and nowhere to
be found--as they're sure to tell him. There's no saying what
lies they mayn't tell him about my going! Rather than go, I will
sit on the door-step all night, just to be able to tell him in
the morning that I never went home."
"Why have they done it, do you think? asked Joseph.
"I dare hardly allow myself to conjecture," answered Mary. "None
of them like me but Jemima--not even Mrs. Redmain now, I am
afraid; for you see I never got any of the good done her I
wanted, and, till something of that was done, she could not know
how I felt toward her. I shouldn't a bit wonder if they fancy I
have a design on his money--as if anybody fit to call herself a
woman would condescend to such a thing! But when a woman would
marry for money, she may well think as badly of another woman."
"This is a serious affair," said Joseph.
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