A wave of the universal excitement had somehow reached Mr. and Mrs. Waring in their learned retirement, probably carried there by Mary’s frequent appearances for trivial causes,—she dared not make any definite suggestion, for fear of Gwen’s most inexorable wrath. “My love,” said Mr. Waring at last, “something unusual seems to be the matter!” Mrs. Waring’s brows knitted as usual, then gradually cleared. “Yes, I really believe this is the occasion of Gwen’s first ball. I remember now Lady Mary mentioning something about it, and—ah, yes, don’t you remember you gave Mrs. Fellowes a cheque for some dresses and other things to do with balls? Ah, nine o’clock, is it really? And I fancy I hear a carriage—didn’t Lady Mary say she would come for her? I think, dear,” she said, “I think, dear, I should like to see Gwen.” “And I too,” said Mr. Waring, standing up with quiet eagerness, “shall we go to her room? I suppose we might do so,” he added, half fearfully. It certainly did seem rather a liberty on their part. “Oh yes, I think that perhaps she might like it.” So they opened the door and were just about to set forth when the sight of her in shimmering soft waves of silk and tulle, her round column of a neck poised like that of an empress, and her arms thrown out gracefully that Mary might see the whole of her, arrested the two and held them in a silent spell, standing hand in hand on the threshold. Then, hand in hand still, they went back into the library as if in a dream, and over to the deep embrasured window that opened on the carriage drive, and listened to the very last sound of Lady Mary’s wheels. When they came back to the fire there was a tear in Mrs. Waring’s eye, and her husband felt horrid—just as if he had lost a good thought. CHAPTER XIV. IF ever a girl’s coming-out was a triumphal progress, Gwen’s was. There was just the same suggestion of stifled groans, and hidden wounds, and silent blood streams in it, as there is in the processions of all conquerors, and just the same cool indifference to this part of the show distinguished the girl’s face and added curiously to its charm. As she swept calmly on her way her victims fell to right and to left of her without a groan or a murmur, noisy appeal seemed quite out of the question in the presence of this magnificent inscrutable creature. In her grand scornful way she revelled in the glory of her march, and wore her laurels as if she had been used to them since her long-clothes’ days—this sort of thing just suited her, it was so thoroughly just, so fair, her mere due, and no more, and she felt neither elation nor any special gratitude in accepting it all.