tand his
thoughts--when he would look at her with sorrowful patience, and she
would die slowly of his terrible kindness. The lonely life was sad,
but, after all, Sissy Langton would not be twenty-one till April.

Percival read her letter, and asked Godfrey Hammond how she really
was. "Tell me the truth," he said: "you know all is over between us.
She writes cheerfully. Is she better than she was last year?"

Hammond replied that Sissy was certainly better. "She has begun to go
out again, and Fordborough gossip says that there is something between
her and young Hardwicke. He is a good fellow, and I fancy the old man
will leave him very well off. But she might do better, and there
are two people, at any rate, who do not think anything will come of
it--myself and young Hardwicke."

Percival hoped not, indeed.

A month later Hammond wrote that there was no need for Percival to
excite himself about Henry Hardwicke. Mrs. Falconer had taken Sissy
and Laura to a dance at Latimer's Court, and Sissy's conquests were
innumerable. Young Walter Latimer and a Captain Fothergill were the
most conspicuous victims. "I believe Latimer rides into Fordborough
every day, and the captain, being stationed there, is on the spot. Our
St. Cecilia looks more charming than ever, but what she thinks of all
this no one knows. Of course Latimer would be the better match, as
far as money goes--he is decidedly better-looking, and, I should say,
better-tempered--but Fothergill has an air about him which makes his
rival look countrified, so I suppose they are tolerably even. Neither
is overweighted with brains. What do you think? Young Garnett cannot
say a civil word to either of them, and wants to give Sissy a dog. He
is not heart-whole either, I take it."

Hammond was trying to probe his correspondent's heart. He flattered
himself that he should learn something from Percival, let him answer
how he would. But Percival did not answer at all. The fact was, he did
not know what to say. It seemed to him that he would give anything to
hear that Sissy was happy, and yet--

Nor did Sissy understand herself very well. Her grace and sweetness
attracted Latimer and Fothergill, and a certain gentle indifference
piqued them. She was not sad, lest sadness should be a reproach to
Percival. In truth, she hardly knew what she wished. One day she came
into the room and overheard the fag-end of a conversation between Mrs.
Middleton and a maiden aunt of Godfrey Ham