was fixed, for when she broke it off. Suddenly she would have none of
it."

Trying to piece together these staccato jottings by what he knew of the
character of his love, Trenholme's mind was sore with curiosity about it
all, especially with regard to the character of Mr. Monckton.

"Perhaps"--he spoke politely, as if excusing the fickleness of the
absent woman--"perhaps some fresh knowledge concerning the gentleman
reached Miss Rexford."

"For many a year we had known all that was to be known about Mr.
Monckton," declared the mother, vigorously. "Sophia changed her mind. It
was four years ago, but she might be Mrs. Monckton in a month if she'd
say the word. He has never been consoled; her father has just received a
letter from him to-day begging him to renew the subject with her; but
when Sophia changes once she's not likely to alter again. There's not
one in a thousand to equal her."

Trenholme agreed perfectly with the conclusion, even if he did not see
that it was proved by the premises. He went away with his mind much
agitated and filled with new anxieties. The fact that she had once
consented to marry another seemed to him to make it more probable that
she might do so again. He had allowed himself to assume that since the
time when he had seen her as a young girl, the admired of all, Sophia
had drifted entirely out of that sort of relation to society; but now,
by this sudden alarm, she seemed to be again elevated on some pinnacle
of social success beyond his reach. It struck him, too, as discouraging
that he should be able to know so little about a girl he had loved in a
vague way so long, and now for a time so ardently, and who had dwelt for