with an
acquaintance who was incumbent of a church in the south of London, and as
soon as possible the couple removed thither, abandoning their pretty
country home, with trees and shrubs and glebe, for a narrow, dusty house
in a long, straight street, and their fine peal of bells for the
wretchedest one-tongued clangour that ever tortured mortal ears. It was
all on her account. They were, however, away from every one who had
known her former position; and also under less observation from without
than they would have had to put up with in any country parish.

Sophy the woman was as charming a partner as a man could possess, though
Sophy the lady had her deficiencies. She showed a natural aptitude for
little domestic refinements, so far as related to things and manners; but
in what is called culture she was less intuitive. She had now been
married more than fourteen years, and her husband had taken much trouble
with her education; but she still held confused ideas on the use of 'was'
and 'were,' which did not beget a respect for her among the few
acquaintances she made. Her great grief in this relation was that her
only child, on whose education no expense had been and would be spared,
was now old enough to perceive these deficiencies in his mother, and not
only to see them but to feel irritated at their existence.

Thus she lived on in the city, and wasted hours in braiding her beautiful
hair, till her once apple cheeks waned to pink of the very faintest. Her
foot had never regained its natural strength after the accident, and she
was mostly obliged to avoid walking altogether. Her husband had grown to
like London for its freedom and its domestic privacy; but he was twenty
years his Sophy's senior, and had latterly been seized with a serious
illness. On this day, however, he had seemed to be well enough to
justify her accompanying her son Randolph to the concert.

CHAPTER II

The next time we get a glimpse of her is when she appears in the mournful
attire of a widow.

Mr. Twycott had never rallied, and now lay in a well-packed cemetery to
the south of the great city, where, if all the dead it contained had
stood erect and alive, not one would have known him or recognized his
name. The boy had dutifully followed him to the grave, and was now again
at school.

Throughout these changes Sophy had been treated like the child she was in
nature though not in years. She was left with no control over anythi