next morning, and to have brief calls from Gwendo len in which her husband waited for her outside eithe on horseback or sitting in the carriage, was all the in tercourse allowed to the mother.

The truth was, that the second time Gwendole proposed to invite her mother with Mr. and Mrs Gascoigne, Grandcourt had at first been silent, an then drawled, "We can't be having those people always Gascoigne talks too much. Country clergy are alway bores with their confounded fuss about everything.' That speech was full of foreboding for Gwendolen To have her mother classed under "those people' was enough to confirm the previous dread of bringin her too near. Still, she could not give the true reason —she could not say to her mother, "Mr. Grandcour wants to recognize you as little as possible; and be sides it is better you should not see much of my marrie life, else you might find out that I am miserable." S she waived as lightly as she could every allusion to th subject; and when Mrs. Davilow again hinted the pos sibility of her having a house close to Ryelands, Gwen dolen said, "It would not be so nice for you as bein near the Rectory here, mamma. We shall perhaps b very little at Ryelands. You would miss my aunt and uncle."

And all the while this contemptuous veto of he husband's on any intimacy with her family, making her proudly shrink from giving them the aspect o troublesome pensioners, was rousing more inward in clination towards them. She had never felt so kindl towards her uncle, so much disposed to look back o

his cheerful, complacent activity and spirit of kind management, even when mistaken, as more of a comfort than the neutral loftiness which was every day chilling her. And here perhaps she was unconsciously finding some of that mental enlargement which it was hard to get from her occasional dashes into difficult authors, who instead of blending themselves with her daily agitations required her to dismiss them.

It was a delightful surprise one day when Mr. and Mrs. Gascoigne were at Offendene to see Gwendolen ride up without her husband-with the groom only. All, including the four girls and Miss Merry, seated in the dining-room at lunch, could see the welcome approach; and even the elder ones were not without something of Isabel's romantic sense that the beautiful sister on the splendid chestnut, which held its head as if proud to bear her, was a sort of Harriet Byron or Miss Wardour reappearing out of her "happiness ever after."

Her uncle went to the door to give her his hand, and she sprang from her horse with an air of alacrity which might well encourage that notion of guaranteed happiness; for Gwendolen was particularly bent today on setting her mother's heart at rest, and her unusual sense of freedom in being able to make this visit alone enabled her to bear up under the pressure of painful facts which were urging themselves anew. The seven family kisses were not so tiresome as they used to be.

fill

"Mr. Grandcourt is gone out, so I determined to up the time by coming to you, mamma," said Gwen

dolen, as she laid down her hat and seated herself next to her mother; and then looking at her with a playfully monitory air, "That is a punishment to you for not wearing better lace on your head. You did n't think I should come and detect you—you dreadfully carelessabout-yourself mamma!" She gave a caressing touch to the dear head.

"Scold me, dear," said Mrs. Davilow, her delicate worn face flushing with delight. "But I wish there was something you could eat after your ride - instead of these scraps. Let Jocosa make you a cup of chocolate in your old way. You used to like that.”

Miss Merry immediately rose and went out, though Gwendolen said, “Oh no, a piece of bread, or one of those hard biscuits. I can't think about eating. I am come to say good-bye."

"What! going to Ryelands again?" said Mr. Gascoigne.

"No, we are going to town," said Gwendolen, beginning to break up a piece of bread, but putting no morsel into her mouth.

"It is rather early to go to town," said Mrs. Gascoigne, "and Mr. Grandcourt not in Parliament."

'Oh, there is only one more day's hunting to be had, and Henleigh has some business in town with lawyers, I think," said Gwendolen. "I am very glad. I shall like to go to town.”

"You will see your house in Grosvenor Square," said Mrs. Davilow. She and the girls were devouring with their eyes every movement of their goddess, soon to vanish.

"Yes," said Gwendolen, in a tone of assent to the interest of that expectation. "And there is so much to be seen and done in town.”

“I wish, my dear Gwendolen," said Mr. Gascoigne, in a tone of cordial advice, "that you would use your influence with Mr. Grandcourt to induce him to enter Parliament. A man of his position should make his weight felt in politics. The best judges are confident that the ministry will have to appeal to the country on this question of further Reform, and Mr. Grandcourt should be ready for the opportunity. I am not quite sure that his opinions and mine accord entirely; I have not heard him express himself very fully. But I don't look at the matter from that point of view. I am thinking of your husband's standing in the country. And he has now come to that stage of life when a man like him should enter into public affairs. A wife has great influence with her husband. Use yours in that direction, my dear."

The Rector felt that he was acquitting himself of a duty here, and giving something like the aspect of a public benefit to his niece's match. To Gwendolen the whole speech had the flavour of bitter comedy. If she had been merry, she must have laughed at her uncle's explanation to her that he had not heard Grandcourt express himself very fully on politics. And the wife's great influence! General maxims about husbands and wives seemed now of a precarious usefulness. Gwendolen herself had once believed in her future influence as an omnipotence in managing-she did not know exactly what. But her chief concern at pre

sent was to give an answer that would be felt appropri

ate.

"I should be very glad, uncle. But I think Mr. Grandcourt would not like the trouble of an election - at least, unless it could be without his making speeches. I thought candidates always made speeches.' "Not necessarily to any great extent,” said Mr. Gascoigne. "A man of position and weight can get on without much of it. A county member need have very little trouble in that way, and both out of the House and in it is liked the better for not being a speechifier. Tell Mr. Grandcourt that I say so."

"Here comes Jocosa with my chocolate after all," said Gwendolen, escaping from a promise to give information that would certainly have been received in a way inconceivable to the good Rector, who, pushing his chair a little aside from the table, and crossing his leg, looked as well as felt like a worthy specimen of a clergyman and magistrate giving experienced advice. Mr. Gascoigne had come to the conclusion that Grandcourt was a proud man, but his own self-love, calmed through life by the consciousness of his general value and personal advantages, was not irritable enough to prevent him from hoping the best about his niece's husband because her uncle was kept rather haughtily at a distance. A certain aloofness must be allowed to the representative of an old family; you would not expect him to be on intimate terms even with abstractions. But Mrs. Gascoigne was less dispassionate on her husband's account, and felt Grandcourt's haughtiness as something a little blameable in Gwendolen.