Gundred had a quiet, practical spirit. When her husband and her cousin had failed to reappear in time for dinner, she wasted no energy in grief or anxiety, but came to the conclusion that they must have lost their way, and either found some other haven, or, at all events, taken the most prudent steps possible in the circumstances. It was never in her calm nature to be harassed without good cause; she always expected the best till she heard the worst, and gave everybody round her credit for coolness and imperturbable sagacity equal to her own. Accordingly on this occasion she made her husband’s apologies to Mrs. Mimburn, dined without agitation, and slept the night through in placid confidence that the wanderers would return with the morning. Her perfect trust in Kingston’s sense precluded all anxiety as to his welfare, and her perfect trust in his affection all anxiety as to his absence. When at last Kingston and Isabel returned, Gundred received them with a complete lack of fuss or excitement, but with proper attention suited to their state. Warmed, washed, fed, they soon fell again into the orderly course of the life that she had arranged. She condoled with them on the misadventure that had kept them prisoners on the hill-top, and troubled no more about the matter, as soon as she had made certain that neither of them had contracted chills or colds. Very tiresome she felt the misfortune to have been, but a thing that might have happened to anyone, of no real lasting importance.