and almost masters fate--with one of the conquerors, in short.

"I don't hear her," thought the expectant girl, in some trepidation;
"but, all the same, she's got to cross that bare space just outside the
door before--yes, there's her step! And here she is herself!"

Mrs. Bates appeared in the doorway. She had a strong nose of the lofty
Roman type; her bosom heaved with breaths deep, but quiet and regular.
She had a pair of large, full blue eyes, and these she now fixed on Jane
with an expression of rather cold questioning.

"Miss Marshall?" Her voice was firm, smooth, even, rich, deep. She
advanced a foot or two within the room and remained standing there.

"Yes," responded Jane, in unnecessary corroboration. She rose
mechanically from her meagre chair. "I have come to see you," she began,
awkwardly, "about a charity that I am interested in--no, not exactly a
charity, but--"

At the ominous word "charity" Mrs. Bates's eyes took on a still colder
gleam. She faced poor Jane with the broad, even, pitiless glare of a
chilled-steel mirror.

"Really," she began, "I have a great many demands of this kind made on
me; a great many--more than might generally be imagined." She showed none
of the embarrassed evasion peculiar to the woman on whom such
requisitions are made but at infrequent intervals; she employed the
decisive, business-like tone of a woman of whom such requests are made
daily. Jane seemed to see negation coldly crystallizing before her eyes,
and she gave a mortified groan to find herself drawn so near to the