Miss Gwynne was soon hastening homewards, heedless of the splendid sky
above, or the glowing fields beneath. She was making reflections on the
excellence of Mrs Prothero, the silliness of Netta, the precision of
Rowland, and the misery of the girl Gladys. Thence she turned her
thoughts upon herself, and suddenly discovered that she had been too
decided in at once ordering any person to the workhouse, without at
first knowing the case.

'But it is no wonder that I am too decided sometimes, when my father is
so dreadfully weak and vacillating,' she said to herself; 'indeed I do
not think, after all, that one can be too decided in this irresolute
world.'

This very decided young lady is the only child and supposed heiress of
Gwynne of Glanyravon, as her father is usually called. She is an
aristocratic-looking personage, with a certain I-will-have-my-own-way
air, that you cannot help recognising at once. She is rather taller than
most tall women, and the tokens of decision in her carriage, eyes,
voice, and general deportment would be disagreeable, but for the extreme
grace of her figure, the unaffected ease of her manner, and the
remarkable clearness and sweetness of her voice. She is handsome, too,
with a noble forehead, sensible grey eyes, glossy chestnut hair, and a
very fine complexion. The many of her nominal friends and admirers who
at heart dislike her, prophesy that in a few years she will be coarse,
and say that she is already too masculine; but the few who love her,
think that she will improve both in person and mind, as she rubs off the
pride and self-opinionativeness of twenty years of country life against
the wholesome iron of society and the world. But we shall see.