, the documents were put away, honourably unread, and Gwen hurried off
to be given a lift to Cavendish Square by her mother. Her father exacted
a promise from her that she would not force her way past Dr. Dalrymple
into the patient's presence, come what might! She accompanied her mother
in the carriage as far as her own destination. The Countess was on a
card-leaving mission in Harley Street, and devoutly hoped that Lady
Blank would not be at home. In that case she might take advantage of her
liberty to go to a meeting at the Duchess of Sutherland's to abolish
this horrible negro slavery in America, so as not to be exceptional,
which was odious; and your father--Gwen's to wit--never would exert
himself about anything, and was simply wrapped up in old violins and
majolica. Of course it was right to put an end to slavery, and people
_ought_ to exert themselves. Her ladyship waited in the carriage at the
door till Gwen could supply an intensely authentic report--not what the
servants were told to say to everybody; that was no use--of the precise
condition of the patient, including the figures of the pulse and
temperature, and whether she had had a good night. Gwen came back with a
report from the nurse, to find Dr. Dalrymple conversing with her mother
at the carriage door, and to be exhorted by him to follow her maternal
example in matters of prudence. For the good lady had furnished herself
with a smelling-bottle and was inhaling it religiously, as a
prophylactic.

When she had departed, leaving Gwen wondering why on earth she was
seized with such a desire just now to abolish negro slavery, Gwen
returned into the house to await the doctor's last word about her
friend. Waiting for him in the sitting-room, she read the _Times_, and
naturally turned to the news from the Seat of War--it was then at its
height--and became engrossed in the details of the Balaklava charge, a
month since. The tragedy of the Crimea--every war is a tragedy--was at
this time the all-engrossing topic in London and Paris, and men hung
eagerly on every word that passed current as news. The reason it has so
little place in this story is obvious--none of the essential events
intersect. All our narrative has to tell relates to occurrences
predetermined by a past that was forgotten long before Sebastopol was
anticipated.

Gwen read the story of the great historical charge with a breathless
interest certainly, but only as part of the playbill of a terrible