with mistrust. Nothing she said sounded quite sincere, yet it was
more difficult than ever to imagine that she played a part quite
alien to her disposition.

No word had fallen from her which threw light upon her present
circumstances, and he feared to ask any direct question. It had
surprised him to learn that she subscribed to Mudie's. The book she
brought away with her was a newly published novel, and in the few
words they exchanged on the subject while standing at the library
counter she seemed to him to exhibit a surprising acquaintance with
the literature of the day. Of his own shortcomings in this respect
he was but too sensible, and he began to feel himself an
intellectual inferior, where every probability had prepared him for
the reverse.

The next morning he went to Mudie's on his own account, and came
away with volumes chosen from those which lay on the counter. He was
tired of wandering about the town, and might as well pass his time
in reading.

When Sunday came, he sought the appointed spot at Hampstead, and
there, after an hour's waiting, met the two friends. Eve was no
longer in her vivacious mood; brilliant sunshine, and the breeze
upon the heath, had no power to inspirit her; spoke in
monosyllables, and behaved with unaccountable reserve. Hilliard had
no choice but to converse with Patty, who was as gay and
entertaining as ever. In the course of their gossip he learnt that
Miss Ringrose was employed at a music-shop, kept by her uncle, where
she sold the latest songs and dances, and "tried over" on a piano
any unfamiliar piece which a customer might think of purchasing. It