bracelets once that he said he had bought from a lady. Jocosa might go
and ask him. Jocosa is going to leave us, of course. But she might do
that first."

"She would do anything she could, poor, dear soul. I have not told you
yet--she wanted me to take all her savings--her three hundred pounds. I
tell her to set up a little school. It will be hard for her to go into
a new family now she has been so long with us."

"Oh, recommend her for the bishop's daughter's," said Gwendolen, with a
sudden gleam of laughter in her face. "I am sure she will do better
than I should."

"Do take care not to say such things to your uncle," said Mrs. Davilow.
"He will be hurt at your despising what he has exerted himself about.
But I dare say you have something else in your mind that he might not
disapprove, if you consulted him."

"There is some one else I want to consult first. Are the Arrowpoint's
at Quetcham still, and is Herr Klesmer there? But I daresay you know
nothing about it, poor, dear mamma. Can Jeffries go on horseback with a
note?"

"Oh, my dear, Jefferies is not here, and the dealer has taken the
horses. But some one could go for us from Leek's farm. The Arrowpoints
are at Quetcham, I know. Miss Arrowpoint left her card the other day: I
could not see her. But I don't know about Herr Klesmer. Do you want to
send before to-morrow?"

"Yes, as soon as possible. I will write a note," said Gwendolen, rising.

"What can you be thinking of, Gwen?" said Mrs. Davilow, relieved in the
midst of her wonderment by signs of alacrity and better humor.

"Don't mind what, there's a dear, good mamma," said Gwendolen,
reseating herself a moment to give atoning caresses. "I mean to do
something. Never mind what until it is all settled. And then you shall
be comforted. The dear face!--it is ten years older in these three
weeks. Now, now, now! don't cry"--Gwendolen, holding her mamma's head
with both hands, kissed the trembling eyelids. "But mind you don't
contradict me or put hindrances in my way. I must decide for myself. I
cannot be dictated to by my uncle or any one else. My life is my own
affair. And I think"--here her tone took an edge of scorn--"I think I
can do better for you than let you live in Sawyer's Cottage."

In uttering this last sentence Gwendolen again rose, and went to a desk
where she wrote the following note to Klesmer:--

Miss Harleth presents her compliments to Herr Klesmer, and ventures
to request of hi