While she sat there, working buttonholes in a bad light, she thought quite as passionately as Gabriella, though her mental processes were different.

She thought sadly, but firmly, with a pensive melancholy not untinged with pleasure, that "life was becoming almost too much for her." It seemed incredible to her that after all her struggles to keep up an appearance things should have turned out as they had; it seemed incredible that after all her sacrifices her children should not consider her more.

"They have no consideration for me," she reflected, while she took the finest stitch possible to the needle she held.

"If Jane had considered me she would never have married Charley.

If Gabriella had considered me, or anybody but herself, she would not have gone to work in a store." No, they had never considered her, they had never asked her advice before acting, though she had brought them into the world and had worked like a slave in order to keep them in that respected station of life in which they had been born.