In next to no time they had cleared the field, and Mr. and Mrs. Fellowes were just about to say good-bye and to carry Dacre off to dinner, when to their amazement, after a hurried consultation, Mr. and Mrs. Waring begged them to stay, and drew them into the library, utterly ignoring the furious Dacre, who betook himself, softly swearing, to the stables, where he wandered disconsolately, scathing the screws that lumbered the stalls and thanking God lustily that his stud was elsewhere. Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Fellowes were closeted together in the library. While the other two looked silently and questioningly at one another Mrs. Fellowes telegraphed despairing signals to her husband. “It has been a most wearing day,” said Mr. Waring at last, “I feared my wife would break down under the strain. No doubt you felt it too?” he went on with his brows raised, looking concernedly at his guests. “I thought, my dear,” and he pressed her hand, “I thought, my dear, that our daughter Gwen bore it admirably, the girl appears to have much courage, the courage of your race, my love.” He beamed softly down on her, and paused for an unconscionable time, then suddenly he remembered himself and started. “Our daughter Gwen is a very beautiful person,” he went on, musing aloud. “I do not think I ever noticed the fact until lately, until that night she went to some—h’m—party with Lady Mary. Dearest, do you recollect?” “Perfectly,” said Mrs. Waring, getting a shade paler, and with a troubled look in her eyes, “you saw her, Mrs. Fellowes,” she said with sudden eagerness, “that night?” “I did indeed, Gwen’s beauty was a shock to me. But I didn’t know—that is, I thought you were busy.” “Ah yes, very busy, I remember, but we came out to see Gwen, she was on the stairs, and we got no farther than the door, the lamplight shone on her and cast soft strange lovely shadows on her white silk—it was silk, was it not, Mrs. Fellowes?”—She nodded. “And her arms and neck were like—down—” “Snow,” murmured her husband. “No, dear, they looked too warm for that, and her face! We were, I think, a little frightened at its beauty.” She gave a little shy laugh. “We should have come out, but just then I do not think I could have spoken. My husband thought I was not very well and he brought me back—Henry spoils me, Mrs. Fellowes—but to-day I shall never forget Gwen’s look, never!” and her small face got still one shade whiter. She tried to say something but she only made a little husky noise, she turned to Mrs. Fellowes and tried again. “You know Gwen,” she said faintly, “do you think she was happy to-day, as a bride should be?” Mrs. Fellowes looked keenly at her and turned to her husband. “Mrs. Waring must lie down, she is worn out,” she said. He made ready the sofa and drew the trembling small creature down on it. Mr. Waring yielded her up with a disturbed and astonished gaze, and stood aside contemplating events patiently.