From the shop of the tailor she went slowly homeward; at her heart was a feeling of utter despondency.

She had struggled long, in weariness and pain, with her lot; but now she felt that the struggle was over.

The hope of the hour had failed, and it seemed to her the last hope.
When Ellen entered the room where her sister lay, the sight of her expectant face (for the desire for nourishing, refreshing food had been stronger than usual with Mary, and her fancy had been dwelling upon the pleasant repast that was soon to be spread before her) made the task of communicating the cruel repulse she had received tenfold more painful.
Without uttering a word, she threw herself upon the bed beside her sister, and, burying her face in a pillow, endeavoured to smother the sobs that came up convulsively from her bosom.

Mary asked no question.
She understood the meaning of Ellen's agitation well; it told her that she had been disappointed in the expectation of receiving the money for her work.
Deep silence followed.

Mary clasped her hands together and raised her eyes upward, while Ellen lay motionless with her face hidden where she had first concealed it.