CONFIDENCE
"And yet I imagine you have had your share," said Longueville, with a smile. He thought this might remind her of the moment when she came out of the little church at Siena and found her daughter suddenly posturing to a painter.
But Mrs. Vivian, turning her benignant head about, gave but a superficial reply.
"Oh, I have had my share of everything, good and bad. I don't complain of anything." And she gave a little deprecating laugh.
Gordon Wright shook hands with Bernard again; he seemed really very glad to see him. Longueville, remembering that Gordon had written to him that he had been "making love," began to seek in his countenance for the ravages of passion. For the moment, however, they were not apparent; the excellent, honest fellow looked placid and contented. Gordon Wright had a clear grey eye, short, straight, flaxen hair, and a healthy diffusion of colour. His features were thick and rather irregular; but his countenance in addition to the merit of its expression derived a certain grace from a powerful yellow moustache, to which its wearer occasionally gave a martial twist. Gordon Wright was not tall, but he was strong, and in his whole person there was some thing well-planted and sturdy. He almost always dressed in light-coloured garments, and he wore round his neck an eternal blue cravat. When he was agitated he grew very red. While he questioned Longueville about his journey and his health, his whereabouts and his intentions, the latter, among his own replies, endeavoured to read in Wright's eyes some account of his present situation. Was that pretty girl at his side the ambiguous object of his adoration, and, in that case, what was the function of the elder lady, and what had become of her argumentative daughter? Perhaps this was another, a
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