Mrs. Venable was a very kind, motherly woman, but there was one inconvenience--in sojourning with a person who knew her antecedents so well--her visitor found. Colonel Dacre had just hinted at some misunderstanding between Lord Teignmouth and Lady Gwendolyn, and allowed Mrs. Venable to lay it all to the countess; but, of course, knowing how much attached the brother and sister had once been, Mrs. Venable did feel a little curious as to the cause of their breach, and tried hard to find it out without actually putting the question. Lady Gwendolyn got out of the traps laid for her gallantly, but she began to think Mrs. Venable was playing into her lover’s hand. She would not have put off her wedding-day now on any account. Colonel Dacre was fully occupied in the intervening days. He had to run down to Borton Hall to attend to some last arrangements there, and this day seemed so terribly long to Lady Gwendolyn that it was quite a revelation to her. It was wonderful happiness to remember that soon they never need be parted, and she would belong altogether to him. The wedding was to be a very quiet one. Under the circumstances this was very desirable, and, fortunately, it chimed in with the tastes and feelings of both the fiancés. Lady Gwendolyn was to have two bridesmaids--for form’s sake--one, the Honorable Beatrice Ponsonby, a tried and true friend, of whom Colonel Dacre approved cordially; and the other, Mrs. Venable’s daughter, a pretty child of six years old. The ceremony was to take place at ten o’clock. After that they were to breakfast quietly in Park Lane, then catch the one-o’clock train for Dover, and cross over to Calais at night. Colonel Dacre had made arrangements to remain abroad until the spring, and then they would return home, and, after spending about a month in town, take up their residence at Borton Hall. This was the program they had drawn up between them, and, unless anything unforeseen should occur to disturb it, it promised exceedingly well. There was no reason why they should keep away from Borton. Lady Gwendolyn was not ashamed to face her brother or his wife, and Colonel Dacre looked forward to vindicating his darling, and claiming for her the respect and homage that were her due. If Lady Teignmouth had dared to traduce her--let her beware. He was not bound to spare Reginald, although they had once been friends. His wife’s honor would always be far dearer to him than aught else besides. On Tuesday evening Colonel Dacre dined in Park Lane, and was gratified to find that Mrs. Venable had the tact to leave the drawing-room for them after dessert. “My husband likes to have me while he is smoking his cigar, as he is away all day,” was the apology she made, as she took her departure, and the lovers could not help laughing happily in each other’s faces, it seemed so very unnecessary. Colonel Dacre possessed himself of half Lady Gwendolyn’s couch, and did not seem to notice that it was a tight fit for two.