CHAPTER III.

ectsandwatchtheirrecovery,therewasadisagreeablesilentremembranceofherhavingstrangledhersister’scanary-birdinafinalfitofexasperationatitsshrillsingingwhichhadagainandagainjarringlyinterruptedherown.Shehadtakenpainstobuyawhitemouseforhersisterinretribution,andthoughinwardlyexcusingherselfonthegroundofapeculiarsensitivenesswhichwasamarkofhergeneralsuperiority,thethoughtofthatinfeloniousmurderhadalwaysmadeherwince.Gwendolen’snaturewasnotremorseless,butshelikedtomakeherpenanceseasy,andnowthatshewastwentyandmore,someofhernativeforcehadturnedintoaself-controlbywhichsheguardedherselffrompenitentialhumiliation.Therewasmoreshowoffireandwillinherthanever,buttherewasmorecalculationunderneathit. OnthisdayofarrivalatOffendene,whichnotevenMrs.Davilowhadseenbefore—theplacehavingbeentakenforherbyherbrother-in-law,Mr.Gascoigne—whenallhadgotdownfromthecarriage,andwerestandingundertheporchinfrontoftheopendoor,sothattheycouldhaveageneralviewoftheplaceandaglimpseofthestonehallandstaircasehungwithsombrepictures,butenlivenedbyabrightwoodfire,noonespokemamma,thefoursistersandthegovernessalllookedatGwendolen,asiftheirfeelingsdependedentirelyonherdecision.Ofthegirls,fromAliceinhersixteenthyeartoIsabelinhertenth,hardlyanythingcouldbesaidonafirstview,butthattheyweregirlish,andthattheirblackdressesweregettingshabby.MissMerrywaselderlyandaltogetherneutralinexpression.Mrs.Davilow’swornbeautyseemedthemorepatheticforthelookofentireappealwhichshecastatGwendolen,whowasglancingroundatthehouse,thelandscapeandtheentrancehallwithanairofrapidjudgment.Imagineayoungrace-horseinthepaddockamonguntrimmedponiesandpatienthacks. “Well,dear,whatdoyouthinkoftheplace,”saidMrs.Davilowatlast,inagentle,deprecatorytone. “Ithinkitischarming,”saidGwendolen,quickly.“Aromanticplaceanythingdelightfulmayhappeninititwouldbeagoodbackgroundforanything.Nooneneedbeashamedoflivinghere.” “Thereiscertainlynothingcommonaboutit.” “Oh,itwoulddoforfallenroyaltyoranysortofgrandpoverty.Weoughtproperlytohavebeenlivinginsplendor,andhavecomedowntothis.Itwouldhavebeenasromanticascouldbe.ButIthoughtmyuncleandauntGascoignewouldbeheretomeetus,andmycousinAnna,”addedGwendolen,hertonechangedtosharpsurprise. “Weareearly,”saidMrs.Davilow,andenteringthehall,shesaidtothehousekeeperwhocameforward,“YouexpectMr.andMrs.Gascoigne?” “Yes,madamtheywerehereyesterdaytogiveparticularordersaboutthefiresandthedinner.Butastofires,I’vehad’eminalltheroomsforthelastweek,andeverythingiswellaired.Icouldwishsomeofthefurniturepaidbetterforallthecleaningit’shad,butIthinkyou’llseethebrasseshavebeendonejusticeto.IthinkwhenMr.andMrs.Gascoignecome,they’lltellyounothinghasbeenneglected.They’llbehereatfive,forcertain.” ThissatisfiedGwendolen,whowasnotpreparedtohavetheirarrivaltreatedwithindifferenceandaftertrippingalittlewayupthemattedstonestaircasetotakeasurveythere,shetrippeddownagain,andfollowedbyallthegirlslookedintoeachoftheroomsopeningfromthehall—thedining-roomalldarkoakandwornredsatindamask,withacopyofsnarling,worryingdogsfromSnydersovertheside-board,andaChristbreakingbreadoverthemantel-piecethelibrarywithageneralaspectandsmellofoldbrown-leatherandlastly,thedrawing-room,whichwasenteredthroughasmallantechambercrowdedwithvenerableknick-knacks. “Mamma,mamma,praycomehere!”saidGwendolen,Mrs.Davilowhavingfollowedslowlyintalkwiththehousekeeper.“Hereisanorgan.IwillbeSaintCecilia:someoneshallpaintmeasSaintCecilia.Jocosa(thiswashernameforMissMerry),letdownmyhair.See,mamma?” Shehadthrownoffherhatandgloves,andseatedherselfbeforetheorganinanadmirablepose,lookingupwardwhilethesubmissiveandsadJocosatookouttheonecombwhichfastenedthecoilofhair,andthenshookoutthemasstillitfellinasmoothlight-brownstreamfarbelowitsowner’sslimwaist. Mrs.Davilowsmiledandsaid,“Acharmingpicture,mydear!”notindifferenttothedisplayofherpet,eveninthepresenceofahousekeeper.Gwendolenroseandlaughedwithdelight.Allthisseemedquitetothepurposeonenteringanewhousewhichwassoexcellentabackground. “Whataqueer,quaint,picturesqueroom!”shewenton,lookingabouther.“Iliketheseoldembroideredchairs,andthegarlandsonthewainscot,andthepicturesthatmaybeanything.Thatonewiththeribs—nothingbutribsanddarkness—IshouldthinkthatisSpanish,mamma.” “Oh,Gwendolen!”saidthesmallIsabel,inatoneofastonishment,whilesheheldopenahingedpanelofthewainscotattheotherendoftheroom. Everyone,Gwendolenfirst,wenttolook.Theopenedpanelhaddisclosedthepictureofanupturneddeadface,fromwhichanobscurefigureseemedtobefleeingwithoutstretchedarms.“Howhorrible!”saidMrs.Davilow,withalookofmeredisgustbutGwendolenshudderedsilently,andIsabel,aplainandaltogetherinconvenientchildwithanalarmingmemory,said, “Youwillneverstayinthisroombyyourself,Gwendolen.” “Howdareyouopenthingswhichweremeanttobeshutup,youperverselittlecreature?”saidGwendolen,inherangriesttone.Thensnatchingthepaneloutofthehandoftheculprit,sheclosedithastily,saying,“Thereisalock—whereisthekey?Letthekeybefound,orelseletonebemade,andletnobodyopenitagainorrather,letthekeybebroughttome.” AtthiscommandtoeverybodyingeneralGwendolenturnedwithafacewhichwasflushedinreactionfromherchillshudder,andsaid,“Letusgouptoourownroom,mamma.” Thehousekeeperonsearchingfoundthekeyinthedrawerofthecabinetclosebythepanel,andpresentlyhandedittoBugle,thelady’s-maid,tellinghersignificantlytogiveittoherRoyalHighness. “Idon’tknowwhatyoumean,Mrs.Startin,”saidBugle,whohadbeenbusyup-stairsduringthesceneinthedrawing-room,andwasratheroffendedatthisironyinanewservant. “Imeantheyoungladythat’stocommandusall—andwellworthyforlooksandfigure,”repliedMrs.Startininpropitiation.“She’llknowwhatkeyitis.” “Ifyouhavelaidoutwhatwewant,goandseetotheothers,Bugle,”Gwendolenhadsaid,whensheandMrs.Davilowenteredtheirblackandyellowbedroom,whereaprettylittlewhitecouchwaspreparedbythesideoftheblackandyellowcatafalqueknownasthebestbed.“Iwillhelpmamma.” Butherfirstmovementwastogotothetallmirrorbetweenthewindows,whichreflectedherselfandtheroomcompletely,whilehermammasatdownandalsolookedatthereflection. “Thatisabecomingglass,Gwendolenorisittheblackandgoldcolorthatsetsyouoff?”saidMrs.Davilow,asGwendolens