n had disheartened her inexpressibly, and for the time
being she felt inclined to let her scheme for the welfare of the working
girls fall into abeyance. In May she left Bourhill in possession of Miss
Peck and the regretful Teen, and departed to London, apparently with
relief, in company with the Fordyces. Her state of mind was entirely
favourable to the furtherance of the Fordyce alliance, and when, early
in June, George joined the party in London, she allowed him to take for
granted that she would marry him in the autumn, and even permitted Mrs.
Fordyce to make sundry purchases in view of that great event. All the
time, however, she felt secretly uneasy and dissatisfied. She was by no
means an easy person to manage, and tried her lover's patience to the
utmost. Her sweetness of disposition seemed to have deserted her for the
time being; she was irritable, unreasonable, exacting, as different from
the sunny-hearted Gladys of old as could well be imagined. The only
person who was at all shrewd enough to guess at the cause of this grave
alteration was the discriminating Mina, who pondered the thing often in
her mind, and wondered how it was likely to end. She did not believe
that the marriage would ever come off, and her guessing at all sides of
the question came nearer the truth than she herself believed. Gladys
appeared in no hurry to return to Scotland; nay, after six weeks in
London, she pleaded for a longer exile, and induced Mrs. Fordyce to
extend their trip to Switzerland; and so the whole beautiful summer was
loitered away in foreign lands, and it was the end of August before
Gladys returned to Bourhill. During her long absence she had been a
faithful correspondent, writing weekly letters to Miss Peck and Teen;
but when she returned that August evening to her own, she was touched
inexpressibly by the wistful looks with which these two, the most
faithful friends she possessed, regarded her. They thought her changed.
She was thinner and older looking; her grace and dignity not less
marked, her beauty not impaired, only the brightness, the inexpressible
air of vivacity and spontaneous gladness seemed to have disappeared. She
smiled at their tearful greeting, a quick, fleeting, almost melancholy
smile.

'Why do you look at me so strangely?' she asked, with the slightest
touch of impatience. 'Do you see anything odd about me?'

'No, oh no, my child,' answered Miss Peck quickly. 'We are so thankful
to have you home ag