'I hope I shall never be married,' whispered Freda to Mrs Jones, 'if I am to undergo that sort of ordeal. But I suppose all brides are not kissed in that way.'

Uncle and Aunt Jonathan had prepared a substantial early dinner--they did not dignify it by the name of _dejeuner_, or miscall it breakfast--to which, in the course of an hour or so, the family party sat down, much as they would have sat down to any ordinary dinner. The dining-table just accommodated ten comfortably, and Netta sat in her easy-chair by the fire, with a small table by her side, making the eleventh.

Miss Gwynne remained to luncheon only, being engaged to dine at Abertewey, and not considering herself quite as one of the guests. She had come uninvited and unexpected, to show due honour to Gladys and her dear friends, Mr and Mrs Jones, and the whole party were gratified by the attention.

The remarks upon her doing so made by her friends at home, were various.

'Freda is certainly very eccentric,' said Lady Mary to her husband. 'Her former maid--your tenant's son--the brother-in-law of that Howel Jenkins. Do you think it discreet, Mr Gwynne?'

'Why, really, Lady Mary, I didn't think about it. She has always done what she likes; they are very worthy, respectable people, you know, and all that sort of thing.'

'Well, if you don't object, of course it is no affair of mine. But it looks very much as if she still thought of Mr Rowland.'

'Oh, an excellent young man! It was only yesterday I saw his name mentioned in the _Times_, as having attended a large meeting in the place of his rector, who is ill. It was upon the general question of all sorts of improvements of the low parts of London. I can't exactly remember what they were, religious, and sanitary, and all that sort of thing you know. Well, the thanks of the meeting were awarded him, for his very clear and accurate information, or something of the sort. Very satisfactory, you know.'

'Oh very! but that can have nothing to do with Freda.'

'She is very good, is Freda, much improved! she never disputes and quarrels with me now. I hope she will live with us--indeed I cannot part with her again.'

At Abertewey, Mrs Vaughan asked the colonel whether 'he thought Freda would come away from that thupid wedding, in time for dinner.'

'If she doesn't, I will never ask her here again,' was the reply. 'Now Freda really is a capital girl, unaffected and sensible; improving every year. I wish all women were more like her.'

'Tho do I, Gwynne; the ith very nice, tho kind to the children, and not tho thatirical to me as the uthed to be. I uthed to be afraid of her, but I am not now, at all. Don't you think thatirical people very dithagreeable? I hope Winnie won't be thatirical, don't you? Mamma thaith--'

'Never mind what she says, my dear. I hope Freda will come. All the people will be so disgusted if she does not, particularly poor Sir Hugh.

I wish she would marry him--but she is too good for him. Intellectual people ought not to marry those who have no brains.'

'No, thertainly not. Oh! here they are! Freda and all. I hear her voithe. I am tho glad.'

To Freda's surprise, every one seemed really glad to see her, and to the surprise of every one, the more they saw of her, the more they liked her. The very people whom she had shunned as bores, and who had shunned her as 'tho thatirical,' now became friendly and pleasant to her, and she to them; how it was they could not tell, but various reasons were a.s.signed for the change.

'How altered Miss Gwynne is,' said one; 'I suppose the birth of the brother has made her more humble.'

'Nothing like London to pull the pride out of our country gentry,' said a second. 'Lords at home, they are only one of a mult.i.tude there. Miss Gwynne has learnt her true position at last.'

'How much more agreeable Miss Gwynne is,' said a fourth. 'I suppose it is because she has been living in a clergyman's family, where they are obliged to be pleasant to all the parishioners.'

'How much less fastidious, satirical, and overbearing Freda Gwynne is,'

a fourth; 'her very countenance is altered; I am sure there has been some great change in her mind.'

And thus the neighbours rang the changes upon Freda's change; but Mrs Gwynne Vaughan had been, perhaps, the nearest to the real cause. She was no longer satirical, no longer striving to find out vulnerable points in people's characters to laugh at; she had learnt to make allowances for others, who in turn made allowances for her. Satirical people are very amusing, but rarely welcome, companions; not that Freda was exactly satirical, but she had the gift of finding out every one's weak points--a good gift to those who will kindly cover the point, but a bad one to such as like to lay it bare.

The party at Abertewey went off very well; the colonel was in good humour, and devoted to Freda, who tried to treat him as her brother-in-law; and Sir Hugh was more gallant than ever, and long before the evening was over, had managed to tell Freda that he would rather have her without the Park than with it, which Freda pretended to take as a joke on the part of her old admirer.

The following day, Mr and Mrs Jones spent at the Park, according to a special invitation from its master and mistress. Lady Mary's attention to Freda's friends did more towards reconciling her to her step-mother than anything else; and she even forgot to ask whether it was tact or not. Mr Jones was obliged to return to London the next day, but at Freda's earnest entreaty, he left his wife behind him for a week, which was spent by her between the Park and farm very agreeably.

Before she left, Mr Gwynne had a little private conference with her, to the following effect, and very nervous he was meanwhile:--

'I am very much obliged to you and Mr Jones, I am sure, for your kindness to Freda. I hope you understand how satisfied, and--and--all that sort of thing, you know, I am whilst she is with you.'

Mrs Jones saw that she must say something to help him on.

'We are only too glad to have her society and aid. I a.s.sure you she has been invaluable in the parish, and is beloved by every one.'

'Exactly; I perceive a wonderful change in her; she is gentler, and less excitable. I feel that you--that your husband--in short, I mean--that--hem--'

'Freda has such a fine natural character, Mr Gwynne.'

'Precisely; I would say that I am convinced you would not influence her, and so forth, in remaining away from--you understand--from me, in short.'

'Certainly not. I should be very glad to think that she would return and live happily at her natural home, sorry as I should be to lose her.'

'Thank you very much indeed; you have always been her true friend. I am very anxious--so we are all you see--Lady Mary would like a companion--Harold attends to her better than to any one else. I hope you like Harold; ah--yes--he is a fine boy, and so talented; and you know--to be sure. I should wish to have Freda to read with me again; I a.s.sure you I miss her in many ways. And the colonel and Mrs Vaughan--the children--in fact--in short--you understand?'

'Perfectly, and will not throw any obstacle in the way of Freda's remaining at home.'

'Thank you very much. You are a true friend, Mrs Jones; thank you.'

Mrs Jones made a point of repeating that conversation to Freda, whose look of blank dismay quite startled her.

'Oh! Serena, you want to get rid of me. I could never live this kind of life again. Lady Mary would kill me in another month; not an idea in common. Her daughter is fifty times more endurable, for she is innocent in her silliness. And then that cranky, exigeant colonel, longing to make love to me if I would let him; the stiff dinner parties, tiresome people, spoilt children--though I do delight in Harold and Winnie and Gwynne and Dot and baby, too, for that much--and--'

'And your father,' quietly suggested Mrs Jones.

'I never thought you would wish me to leave you, Serena. Those happy, useful days! The poor, the schools, the church!'

'They are everywhere, my love.'

'But so different. I never felt so happy or useful before I lived with you in London.'

'The change is in yourself, not in the place.'

'Oh! Serena, this is cruel! I could live with my father anywhere, but the others--impossible.'

'Think it over. You know that you have a home with us whenever you like; that it would be my pleasure as well as interest to have you always.

That we shall miss you in every possible way; still duty is duty. As long as your father did not care, and Lady Mary was rather glad to have the Park to herself, the thing was, perhaps, different, at any rate Freda was not then the Freda she is now.

'Serena, you are a bitter-sweet, and a horrible little apple that is.'

'But they say it makes good cider.'

'At any rate you ought not to influence me. I will not decide whilst you are here, and that is all I will promise. If I do, it will be to go to you undoubtedly. But I will think it over.'

That very night before she went to bed, Freda did think it over, sitting by the fire in her delightful, warm, well-lighted, well-furnished bedroom; but she could not come to any determination. She made out a sort of debtor and creditor account in her own head, and cashed it according to her somewhat imperfect notions of book-keeping.

'My father--of course I owe him a great deal in the way of duty and love; but he owes me something for letting me have my own way all my life, bringing me up with the notion that I should be an heiress, and then disappointing me by marrying a woman whom I utterly despise. Lady Mary--I owe her nothing whatever, beyond the common proper treatment that one must give to every one; she, on the contrary, owes me compensation for marrying my father when I am sure he didn't want her, and certainly I did not.

'Colonel Vaughan--I don't owe him anything beyond a little improvement in my style of singing and drawing; yes, I owe him a heavy debt of grat.i.tude for not proposing for me instead of Wilhelmina, for a.s.suredly I should have married him, and he owes me something for making a fool of me. Wilhelmina--I owe her a good deal, firstly, for despising her, laughing at her, ridiculing her--and she all the time better than I was, for she never retaliated--and secondly, for trying to prejudice the colonel against her. Harold--I owe him the love of a sister, and he owes me nothing as yet; here I am decidedly debtor. The poor, of course, wherever one is, one owes them a great debt of Christian charity and love; and I must confess that they are not quite so well seen to as when Gladys was my almoner; but then she is here again to see to them, and that, on her own responsibility, and it is Lady Mary's place to care for them now.