at many
people; he might know something about Brownson. Any way, I would throw
out some feelers in that direction.

"Yes," I remarked to him, in the course of a conversation about the late
Mother Superior, "what she is going to do is a very fine thing,--a noble
enterprise, and she is just the sort of person to go into it, but after
all I would rather see her married to the right sort of man. A woman
like that owes it to society to be married."

"I fancy," said Walkirk, "that she has permanently left the marrying
class. When she broke with Brownson, I think she broke with marriage."

"What were the points of that?" I asked. "Did you ever happen to hear
anything about him?"

"I knew him very well," answered Walkirk. "Those were his prints I was
cataloguing just before I entered your service. He had then been dead a
year or more, and I was working for the estate."

I arose and went to the window. I wiped my forehead, which had become
moist. If this man had known Brownson, why should he not know all? Was
he familiar with both engagements? It made me sick to think of it. There
was no sense or reason in such emotion, for it was not likely that
Sylvia's engagement had been a secret one; but I had a proud soul and
could not bear to think that people about me, especially Walkirk, should
be aware of Sylvia's attachment, slight as it may have been, to another
than myself. I heartily wished that I had not spoken of the subject.

Still, as I had spoken of it, I might as well learn all that I could.

"What sort of a man was this Brownson?" I asked. "What reason was there
that Miss Marcia Raynor should have cared for him?"

"He was a fine man," said Walkirk. "He was educated, good-looking, rich.
He was young enough, but had been a bachelor too long, perhaps, and had
very independent ways. It was on account of his independence of thought,
especially on religious matters, that he and Miss Marcia Raynor had
their difficulties, which ended in the breaking of the engagement. I am
quite sure that she was a good deal cut up. As I said before, I do not
think that she will consider marriage again."

I took in a full breath of relief. Here Walkirk had told the little
story of Brownson, and had said nothing of any subsequent engagement.
Perhaps he knew of none. This thought was truly encouraging.

"Perhaps you are right," I said, "she may know better than any of us
what will suit her. Any way I ought to be satisfied; and that reminds