penting now he is gone."

The girl looked at her dully, not understanding at first.

"Speaking of Cyril Harkness?" she cried; "good gracious, no, Miss
Sophia." But the response was not given in a sprightly manner, and did
not convey any conviction of its truth.

"You must be working too hard."

"Well, I needn't. I'll tell you a bit of good fortune that's come to me.
Mrs. Glass--one of our boarders--you know her?"

"The stout person that comes to church in red satin?"

"Yes; and she's rich too. Well, she's asked me to go and visit her in
Montreal in the slack time this next winter; and she's such a good
boarder every summer, you know, Mr. Hutchins is quite set on me going.
She's promised to take me to parties and concerts, and the big rink, and
what not. Ah, Miss Sophia, you never thought I could come that sort of
thing so soon, did you?"

"And are you not going?"

Sophia's question arose from a certain ring of mockery in Eliza's
relation of her triumph.

"No, I'm not going a step. D'you think I'm going to be beholden to her,
vulgar old thing! And besides, she talks about getting me married. I
think there's nothing so miserable in the world as to be married."

"Most women are much happier married." Sophia said this with orthodox
propriety, although she did not altogether believe it.

"Yes, when they can't fend for themselves, poor things. But to be for
ever tied to a house and a man, never to do just what one liked! I'm
going to take pattern by you, Miss Sophia, and not get married."

Eliza went back to the village, and Sophia turned toward the pasture and
the college. The first breath of autumn wind was sweeping down the road
to meet her. All about the first sparks of the great autumnal fire of
colour were kindling. In the nearer wood she noticed stray boughs of
yellow or pink foliage displayed hanging over the dark tops of young
spruce trees, or waving against the blue of the unclouded sky. It was an
air to make the heavy heart jocund in spite of itself, and the sweet
influences of this blithe evening in the pasture field were not lost
upon Sophia, although she had not the spirit now to wish mischievously,
as before, that Mrs. and Miss Bennett, or some of their friends, would
pass to see her carry the milk in daylight. It was a happy pride that
had been at the root of her defiance of public opinion, and her pride
was depressed now, smarting under the sharp renewal of the conviction
that her sisters were n