 that made a hazy largeness about poor Gwendolen on the
heights of her young self-exultation. Other people allowed themselves to be made
slaves of, and to have their lives blown hither and thither like empty ships in
which no will was present: it was not to be so with her, she would no longer be
sacrificed to creatures worth less than herself, but would make the very best of
the chances that life offered her, and conquer circumstance by her exceptional
cleverness. Certainly, to be settled at Offendene, with the notice of Lady
Brackenshaw, the archery club, and invitations to dine with the Arrowpoints, as
the highest lights in her scenery, was not a position that seemed to offer
remarkable chances; but Gwendolen's confidence lay chiefly in herself. She felt
well equipped for the mastery of life. With regard to much in her lot hitherto,
she held herself rather hardly dealt with, but as to her »education« she would
have admitted that it had left her under no disadvantages. In the schoolroom her
quick mind had taken readily that strong starch of unexplained rules and
disconnected facts which saves ignorance from any painful sense of limpness; and
what remained of all things knowable, she was conscious of being sufficiently
acquainted with through novels, plays, and poems. About her French and music,
the two justifying accomplishments of a young lady, she felt no ground for
uneasiness; and when to all these qualifications, negative and positive, we add
the spontaneous sense of capability some happy persons are born with, so that
any subject they turn attention to impresses them with their own power of
forming a correct judgment on it, who can wonder if Gwendolen felt ready to
manage her own destiny?
    There were many subjects in the world - perhaps the majority - in which she
felt no interest, because they were stupid; for subjects are apt to appear
stupid to the young as light seems dim to the old; but she would not have felt
at all helpless in relation to them if they had turned up in conversation. It
must be remembered that no one had disputed her power or her general
superiority. As on the arrival at Offendene, so always, the first thought of
those about her had been, what will Gwendolen think? - if the footman trod
heavily in creaking boots or if the laundress's work was unsatisfactory, the
maid said, »This will never do for Miss Harleth;« if the wood smoked in the
bedroom fireplace, Mrs. Davilow, whose own weak eyes suffered much from this
inconvenience, spoke apologetically of it to Gwendolen. If, when they were
