to the carriage; but while
that was happening, Gwendolen with incredible swiftness had got in
advance of them, and had sprung into the carriage.

"I got in, mamma, because I wished to be on this side," she said,
apologetically. But she had avoided Grandcourt's touch: he only lifted
his hat and walked away--with the not unsatisfactory impression that
she meant to show herself offended by his neglect.

The mother and daughter drove for five minutes in silence. Then
Gwendolen said, "I intend to join the Langens at Dover, mamma. I shall
pack up immediately on getting home, and set off by the early train. I
shall be at Dover almost as soon as they are; we can let them know by
telegraph."

"Good heavens, child! what can be your reason for saying so?"

"My reason for saying it, mamma, is that I mean to do it."

"But why do you mean to do it?"

"I wish to go away."

"Is it because you are offended with Mr. Grandcourt's odd behavior in
walking off to-day?"

"It is useless to enter into such questions. I am not going in any case
to marry Mr. Grandcourt. Don't interest yourself further about it."

"What can I say to your uncle, Gwendolen? Consider the position you
place me in. You led him to believe only last night that you had made
up your mind in favor of Mr. Grandcourt."

"I am very sorry to cause you annoyance, mamma, dear, but I can't help
it," said Gwendolen, with still harder resistance in her tone.
"Whatever you or my uncle may think or do, I shall not alter my
resolve, and I shall not tell my reason. I don't care what comes of it.
I don't care if I never marry any one. There is nothing worth caring
for. I believe all men are bad, and I hate them."

"But need you set off in this way, Gwendolen," said Mrs. Davilow,
miserable and helpless.

"Now mamma, don't interfere with me. If you have ever had any trouble
in your own life, remember it and don't interfere with me. If I am to
be miserable, let it be by my own choice."

The mother was reduced to trembling silence. She began to see that the
difficulty would be lessened if Gwendolen went away.

And she did go. The packing was all carefully done that evening, and
not long after dawn the next day Mrs. Davilow accompanied her daughter
to the railway station. The sweet dews of morning, the cows and horses
looking over the hedges without any particular reason, the early
travelers on foot with their bundles, seemed all very melancholy and
purposeless to them both