glowed on the borders of the
fields, there was enough breeze to move gently like a social spirit
among the ears of uncut corn, and to wing the shadow of a cloud across
the soft gray downs; here the sheaves were standing, there the horses
were straining their muscles under the last load from a wide space of
stubble, but everywhere the green pasture made a broader setting for
the corn-fields, and the cattle took their rest under wide branches.
The road lay through a bit of country where the dairy-farms looked much
as they did in the days of our forefathers--where peace and permanence
seemed to find a home away from the busy change that sent the railway
train flying in the distance.

But the spirit of peace and permanence did not penetrate poor Mrs.
Davilow's mind so as to overcome her habit of uneasy foreboding.
Gwendolen and Grandcourt cantering in front of her, and then slackening
their pace to a conversational walk till the carriage came up with them
again, made a gratifying sight; but it served chiefly to keep up the
conflict of hopes and fears about her daughter's lot. Here was an
irresistible opportunity for a lover to speak and put an end to all
uncertainties, and Mrs. Davilow could only hope with trembling that
Gwendolen's decision would be favorable. Certainly if Rex's love had
been repugnant to her, Mr. Grandcourt had the advantage of being in
complete contrast with Rex; and that he had produced some quite novel
impression on her seemed evident in her marked abstinence from
satirical observations, nay, her total silence about his
characteristics, a silence which Mrs. Davilow did not dare to break.
"Is he a man she would be happy with?"--was a question that inevitably
arose in the mother's mind. "Well, perhaps as happy as she would be
with any one else--or as most other women are"--was the answer with
which she tried to quiet herself; for she could not imagine Gwendolen
under the influence of any feeling which would make her satisfied in
what we traditionally call "mean circumstances."

Grandcourt's own thought was looking in the same direction: he wanted
to have done with the uncertainty that belonged to his not having
spoken. As to any further uncertainty--well, it was something without
any reasonable basis, some quality in the air which acted as an
irritant to his wishes.

Gwendolen enjoyed the riding, but her pleasure did not break forth in
girlish unpremeditated chat and laughter as it did on that morning