"For what end," thought she, giving vent to that feeling of hostility

which is the only real abasement of the poor in presence of the

rich,--"for what good end, in the wisdom of Providence, does that woman

live? Must the whole world toil, that the palms of her hands may be

kept white and delicate?"

Then, ashamed and penitent, she hid her face.

"May God forgive me!" said she.

Doubtless, God did forgive her. But, taking the inward and outward

history of the first half-day into consideration, Hepzibah began to

fear that the shop would prove her ruin in a moral and religious point


of view, without contributing very essentially towards even her

temporal welfare.