trable arboriculture on
either hand, without seeing any more of them, and expected to find them
on arriving. The tenor and soprano gave close particulars of their
return along this self-same path. All the evidence went to show that a
suspension of natural laws had taken place, the simultaneous presence of
all four at that stile seeming a mathematical certainty from which
escape was impossible.

Guilty conscience--so Gwen thought at least--was discernible in every
phrase of the composition. This was all very fine for Lieutenant Tatham
and Di Accrington, the two young monkeys. But why Aunt Constance and her
middle-aged M.P.? If they wanted to, why couldn't they, without any
nonsense? That was the truncated inquiry Gwen's mind made.

She herself was radiant, dazzling, in the highest spirits. But her
mother was silent and pre-occupied, and rather impatient with her more
than once during the evening. The Earl was the same, minus the
impatience.

This was because of two very short colloquies under pressure, between
Gwen's departure upstairs and the Countess's overdue appearance at
dinner. The first began in the lobby outside Gwen's room, where her
mother overtook her on her way to her own. Here it is in full:

"Oh--there you are, child! What a silly you were not to come! How's your
headache?... I do wish your father would have those stairs altered. It's
like the ascent of Mount Parnassus." Buckstone was presenting a
burlesque of that name just then, and her ladyship may have had it
running in her head.

"It wasn't a real headache--only pretence. Come in here, mamma. I've
something to say.... No--I haven't rung for Lutwyche yet. _She's_ all
right. Come in and shut the door."

"Why, girl, what's the matter? Why are you...?"

"Why am I what?"

"Well--twinkling and--breathing and--and altogether!" Her ladyship's
descriptive power is fairly good as far as it goes, but it has its
limits.

"I don't believe I'm either twinkling or breathing or altogether....
Well, then--I'm whatever you like--all three! Only listen to me, mamma
dear, because there's not much time. I'm going to marry Adrian Torrens.
There!"

"Oh--my dear!" It is too much for the Countess after those stairs! She
sinks on a chair clutching her fingers tight, with wide eyes on her
daughter. It is too terrible to believe. But even in that moment Gwen's
beauty has such force that the words "A blind man!--never to see it!"
are articulate in her mind. For her c