To wait until the afternoon was beyond Colonel Dacre’s courage; and as he and Lord Teignmouth had been at Eton together as boys, he thought he might venture to make a morning call for once in a way. So he ordered his horse at a quarter to twelve, and got through the interval as best he could. Lord Teignmouth was at home, and received him cordially in the library. He was a hearty, pleasant-mannered man, who managed to enjoy life vastly, although the countess was not reckoned, in the neighborhood, to be a very satisfactory wife. But, if frivolous and vain, her ladyship was sweet-tempered, and accorded as much liberty to her husband as she took herself; so that they kept on excellent terms--all the better, perhaps, that they were so seldom together. It was purely an accident that they were both at the Castle now, as her ladyship had an engagement elsewhere; but a slight feverish attack had brought her down to Teignmouth for rest and fresh air, and she was as much charmed as surprised when she found her husband and sister-in-law ruralizing, also. “It is so seldom one can manage to be quite en famille,” she said affably; “the world is such a tyrant, it is always claiming one. I am horribly tired of gaiety, but one must do as others do, you know.” And when the earl laughed, as he always did at his wife’s logic, she opened her large blue eyes, and added innocently: “Well, but mustn’t one, dear?” Colonel Dacre asked after the countess’ health with great apparent solicitude, as he shook hands with his host, and was, of course, delighted to hear that she had entirely recovered from her recent indisposition. Then he added, with assumed nonchalance: “I trust Lady Gwendolyn is equally well.” “Oh! that’s where the land lies, is it?” thought the earl. But aloud he said, with a certain twinkle of the eye: “I trust she is, too; but I haven’t seen her since last night.” “No?” put in the colonel, waiting eagerly for further information. “The fact is,” Lord Teignmouth went on, in a confidential tone, “girls are never of the same mind two days together. Yesterday morning Gwen was enchanted with Teignmouth, and declared she would give up all her engagements and stay here for the autumn; in the evening, at dinner, she suddenly announced that she was bored to death, and should leave by the first train in the morning.” “And this morning she changed her mind for the third time, I presume?” “Not a bit of it! I thought she would, of course, and quite expected to see her at breakfast; but when, on her not presenting herself, I made inquiries, I found that she had left Teignmouth by the first train.” Colonel Dacre felt himself turn pale, but managed to say, with tolerable composure: “I am sorry for that, as she was kind enough to lend me a book the other day, and I have not had the opportunity of returning it. But perhaps you will kindly give me her address, and then I can send it by post.”