splendid chestnut, which held its head as
if proud to bear her, was a sort of Harriet Byron or Miss Wardour
reappearing out of her "happiness ever after."

Her uncle went to the door to give her his hand, and she sprang from
her horse with an air of alacrity which might well encourage that
notion of guaranteed happiness; for Gwendolen was particularly bent
to-day on setting her mother's heart at rest, and her unusual sense of
freedom in being able to make this visit alone enabled her to bear up
under the pressure of painful facts which were urging themselves anew.
The seven family kisses were not so tiresome as they used to be.

"Mr. Grandcourt is gone out, so I determined to fill up the time by
coming to you, mamma," said Gwendolen, as she laid down her hat and
seated herself next to her mother; and then looking at her with a
playfully monitory air, "That is a punishment to you for not wearing
better lace on your head. You didn't think I should come and detect
you--you dreadfully careless-about-yourself mamma!" She gave a
caressing touch to the dear head.

"Scold me, dear," said Mrs. Davilow, her delicate worn face flushing
with delight. "But I wish there was something you could eat after your
ride--instead of these scraps. Let Jocosa make you a cup of chocolate
in your old way. You used to like that."

Miss Merry immediately rose and went out, though Gwendolen said, "Oh,
no, a piece of bread, or one of those hard biscuits. I can't think
about eating. I am come to say good-bye."

"What! going to Ryelands again?" said Mr. Gascoigne.

"No, we are going to town," said Gwendolen, beginning to break up a
piece of bread, but putting no morsel into her mouth.

"It is rather early to go to town," said Mrs. Gascoigne, "and Mr.
Grandcourt not in Parliament."

"Oh, there is only one more day's hunting to be had, and Henleigh has
some business in town with lawyers, I think," said Gwendolen. "I am
very glad. I shall like to go to town."

"You will see your house in Grosvenor Square," said Mrs. Davilow. She
and the girls were devouring with their eyes every movement of their
goddess, soon to vanish.

"Yes," said Gwendolen, in a tone of assent to the interest of that
expectation. "And there is so much to be seen and done in town."

"I wish, my dear Gwendolen," said Mr. Gascoigne, in a kind of cordial
advice, "that you would use your influence with Mr. Grandcourt to
induce him to enter Parliament. A man of his position sh