ar," said Gwendolen, tenderly pressing her
handkerchief against the tears that were rolling down Mrs. Davilow's
cheeks. "Never mind. I don't mind. I will do something. I will be
something. Things will come right. It seemed worse because I was away.
Come now! you must be glad because I am here."

Gwendolen felt every word of that speech. A rush of compassionate
tenderness stirred all her capability of generous resolution; and the
self-confident projects which had vaguely glanced before her during her
journey sprang instantaneously into new definiteness. Suddenly she
seemed to perceive how she could be "something." It was one of her best
moments, and the fond mother, forgetting everything below that tide
mark, looked at her with a sort of adoration. She said--

"Bless you, my good, good darling! I can be happy, if you can!"

But later in the day there was an ebb; the old slippery rocks, the old
weedy places reappeared. Naturally, there was a shrinking of courage as
misfortune ceased to be a mere announcement, and began to disclose
itself as a grievous tyrannical inmate. At first--that ugly drive at an
end--it was still Offendene that Gwendolen had come home to, and all
surroundings of immediate consequence to her were still there to secure
her personal ease; the roomy stillness of the large solid house while
she rested; all the luxuries of her toilet cared for without trouble to
her; and a little tray with her favorite food brought to her in
private. For she had said, "Keep them all away from us to-day, mamma.
Let you and me be alone together."

When Gwendolen came down into the drawing-room, fresh as a newly-dipped
swan, and sat leaning against the cushions of the settee beside her
mamma, their misfortune had not yet turned its face and breath upon
her. She felt prepared to hear everything, and began in a tone of
deliberate intention--

"What have you thought of doing, exactly, mamma?"

"Oh, my dear, the next thing to be done is to move away from this
house. Mr. Haynes most fortunately is as glad to have it now as he
would have been when we took it. Lord Brackenshaw's agent is to arrange
everything with him to the best advantage for us: Bazley, you know; not
at all an ill-natured man."

"I cannot help thinking that Lord Brackenshaw would let you stay here
rent-free, mamma," said Gwendolen, whose talents had not been applied
to business so much as to discernment of the admiration excited by her
charms.

"My dear