w conversational approaches to a declaration, and
foresaw herself awaiting and encouraging it according to the rational
conclusion which she had expressed to her uncle.
When she came down to breakfast (after every one had left the table
except Mrs. Davilow) there were letters on her plate. One of them she
read with a gathering smile, and then handed it to her mamma, who, on
returning it, smiled also, finding new cheerfulness in the good spirits
her daughter had shown ever since waking, and said--
"You don't feel inclined to go a thousand miles away?"
"Not exactly so far."
"It was a sad omission not to have written again before this. Can't you
write how--before we set out this morning?"
"It is not so pressing. To-morrow will do. You see they leave town
to-day. I must write to Dover. They will be there till Monday."
"Shall I write for you, dear--if it teases you?"
Gwendolen did not speak immediately, but after sipping her coffee,
answered brusquely, "Oh no, let it be; I will write to-morrow." Then,
feeling a touch of compunction, she looked up and said with playful
tenderness, "Dear, old, beautiful mamma!"
"Old, child, truly."
"Please don't, mamma! I meant old for darling. You are hardly
twenty-five years older than I am. When you talk in that way my life
shrivels up before me."
"One can have a great deal of happiness in twenty-five years, my dear."
"I must lose no time in beginning," said Gwendolen, merrily. "The
sooner I get my palaces and coaches the better."
"And a good husband who adores you, Gwen," said Mrs. Davilow,
encouragingly.
Gwendolen put out her lips saucily and said nothing.
It was a slight drawback on her pleasure in starting that the rector
was detained by magistrate's business, and would probably not be able
to get to Cardell Chase at all that day. She cared little that Mrs.
Gascoigne and Anna chose not to go without him, but her uncle's
presence would have seemed to make it a matter of course that the
decision taken would be acted on. For decision in itself began to be
formidable. Having come close to accepting Grandcourt, Gwendolen felt
this lot of unhoped-for fullness rounding itself too definitely. When
we take to wishing a great deal for ourselves, whatever we get soon
turns into mere limitation and exclusion. Still there was the
reassuring thought that marriage would be the gate into a larger
freedom.
The place of meeting was a grassy spot called Green Arbor, where
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