nother letter from Ruth Thrale,
brought by Onesimus the bull-cajoler, which gave a very good account on
the whole, though one phrase had a damping effect. We were not "to rely
on the champagne," as it was "not nourishment, but stimulus." She _must_
be got to take food regularly, said Dr. Nash, however small the
quantity. This seemed to suggest that she had fallen back on that
vicious practice of starvation. But "my mother" was constantly talking
with "mother" about old times, and it was giving "mother" pleasure.

"I wish," said Gwen, as her father went back to "Honoured Lady" for
second reading, and possibly second impressions, "I wish that Dr. Nash
had written separately. I want to know what he thinks, and I want to
know what Ruth thinks. I can mix them up for myself."

The Earl read to the end, and suspended judgment, visibly. "Eighty-one!"
said he. "And how did Granny Marrable take it? You never said in your
letters."

"Because I did not see her. Dr. Nash told--at least, he tried to. But I
told you about the little boy's letter. She knew it from that."

"I remember.... Well!--we must hope." And then they spoke of matters
nearer home; the impending journey to Vienna; a perplexity created by a
promise rashly given to Aunt Constance that she should be married from
the Ancester town-residence--two things which clashed, for how could
this wedding wait till the Countess's return?--and ultimately of Gwen's
own prospects. Then she told her father the incident of Adrian's
apparent vision of old Mrs. Picture, and both pretended that it was too
slight to build upon; but both used it for a superstructure of private
imaginings. Neither encouraged the other.

Adrian and his sister were to have returned with Gwen to the Towers to
stay till Monday, which was Christmas Day, when their own plum-pudding
and mistletoe would claim them at Pensham. This arrangement was not
carried out, possibly in deference to the Countess, who was anxious to
reduce to a minimum everything that tended to focus the public gaze on
the lovers. Gwen was under a social obligation, inherited perhaps from
Feudalism, to be present at the Servants' Ball, which would have been on
Christmas Eve had that day not fallen on a Sunday. Hence the necessity
for her return on the Saturday, and the interview with her father just
recorded. The quiet ten minutes filled the half-hour between tea and
dressing for a dinner which might prove a scratch meal in itself, but
was