then
transferred to the next who did excellently. These signs of
pre-eminence had the virtue of wreaths without their inconveniences,
which might have produced a melancholy effect in the heat of the
ball-room. Altogether the Brackenshaw Archery Club was an institution
framed with good taste, so as not to have by necessity any ridiculous
incidents.

And to-day all incalculable elements were in its favor. There was mild
warmth, and no wind to disturb either hair or drapery or the course of
the arrow; all skillful preparation had fair play, and when there was a
general march to extract the arrows, the promenade of joyous young
creatures in light speech and laughter, the graceful movement in common
toward a common object, was a show worth looking at. Here Gwendolen
seemed a Calypso among her nymphs. It was in her attitudes and
movements that every one was obliged to admit her surpassing charm.

"That girl is like a high-mettled racer," said Lord Brackenshaw to
young Clintock, one of the invited spectators.

"First chop! tremendously pretty too," said the elegant Grecian, who
had been paying her assiduous attention; "I never saw her look better."

Perhaps she had never looked so well. Her face was beaming with young
pleasure in which there was no malign rays of discontent; for being
satisfied with her own chances, she felt kindly toward everybody and
was satisfied with the universe. Not to have the highest distinction in
rank, not to be marked out as an heiress, like Miss Arrowpoint, gave an
added triumph in eclipsing those advantages. For personal
recommendation she would not have cared to change the family group
accompanying her for any other: her mamma's appearance would have
suited an amiable duchess; her uncle and aunt Gascoigne with Anna made
equally gratifying figures in their way; and Gwendolen was too full of
joyous belief in herself to feel in the least jealous though Miss
Arrowpoint was one of the best archeresses.

Even the reappearance of the formidable Herr Klesmer, which caused some
surprise in the rest of the company, seemed only to fall in with
Gwendolen's inclination to be amused. Short of Apollo himself, what
great musical _maestro_ could make a good figure at an archery meeting?
There was a very satirical light in Gwendolen's eyes as she looked
toward the Arrowpoint party on their first entrance, when the contrast
between Klesmer and the average group of English country people seemed
at its utmost