Daniel Deronda
乔治.艾略特 George Eliot
CHAPTER LXIX. Page 1
"The human nature unto which I feltThat I belonged, and reverenced with love,Was not a punctual presence, but a spiritDiffused through time and space, with aid derivedOf evidence from monuments, erect,Prostrate, or leaning toward their common restIn earth, the widely scattered wreck sublimeOf vanished nations."--WORDSWORTH: _The Prelude_.
Sir Hugo carried out his plan of spending part of the autumn at Diplow,and by the beginning of October his presence was spreading somecheerfulness in the neighborhood, among all ranks and persons concerned,from the stately home of Brackenshaw and Quetcham to the respectable shop-parlors in Wanchester. For Sir Hugo was a man who liked to show himselfand be affable, a Liberal of good lineage, who confided entirely in reformas not likely to make any serious difference in English habits of feeling,one of which undoubtedly is the liking to behold society well fenced andadorned with hereditary rank. Hence he made Diplow a most agreeable house,extending his invitations to old Wanchester solicitors and young villagecurates, but also taking some care in the combination of the guests, andnot feeding all the common poultry together, so that they should thinktheir meal no particular compliment. Easy-going Lord Brackenshaw, forexample, would not mind meeting Robinson the attorney, but Robinson wouldhave been naturally piqued if he had been asked to meet a set of peoplewho passed for his equals. On all these points Sir Hugo was well informedenough at once to gain popularity for himself and give pleasure to others--two results which eminently suited his disposition. The rector ofPennicote now found a reception at Diplow very different from the haughtytolerance he had undergone during the reign of Grandcourt. It was not thatthe baronet liked Mr. Gascoigne; it was that he desired to keep up amarked relation of friendliness with him on account of Mrs. Grandcourt,for whom Sir Hugo's chivalry had become more and more engaged. Why? Thechief reason was one that he could not fully communicate, even to LadyMallinger--for he would not tell what he thought one woman's secret toanother, even though the other was his wife--which shows that his chivalryincluded a rare reticence.
Deronda, after he had become engaged to Mirah, felt it right to make afull statement of his position and purposes to Sir Hugo, and he chose tomake it by letter. He had more than a presentiment that his fatherlyfriend would feel some dissatisfaction, if not pain, at this turn of hisdestiny. In reading unwelcome news, instead of hearing it, there is theadvantage that one avoids a hasty expression of impatience which mayafterward be repented of. Deronda dreaded that verbal collision whichmakes otherwise pardonable feeling lastingly offensive.
And Sir Hugo, though not altogether surprised, was thoroughly vexed. Hisimmediate resource was to take the letter to Lady Mallinger, who would besure to express an astonishment which her husband could argue against asunreasonable, and in this way divide the stress of his discontent. And infact when she showed herself astonished and distressed that all Daniel'swonderful talents, and the comfort of having him in the house, should haveended in his going mad in this way about the Jews, the baronet could say--
"Oh, nonsense, my dear! depend upon it, Dan will not make a fool ofhimself. He has large notions about Judaism--political views which youcan't understand. No fear but Dan will keep himself head uppermost."
But with regard to the prospective marriage she afforded him no counter-irritant. The gentle lady observed, without rancor, that she had littledreamed of what was coming when she had Mirah to sing at her musical partyand give lessons to Amabel. After some hesitation, indeed, she confessedit _had_ passed through her mind that after a proper time Daniel mightmarry Mrs. Grandcourt--because it seemed so remarkable that she should beat Genoa just at that time--and although she herself was not fond ofwidows she could not help thinking that such a marriage would have beenbetter than his going altogether with the Jews. But Sir Hugo was sostrongly of the same opinion that he could not correct it as a femininemistake; and his ill-humor at the disproof of his disagreeable conclusionson behalf of Gwendolen was left without vent. He desired Lady Mallingernot to breathe a word about the affair till further notice, saying tohimself, "If it is an unkind cut to the poor thing (meaning Gwendolen),the longer she is without knowing it the better, in her present nervousstate. And she will best learn it from Dan himself." Sir Hugo'sconjectures had worked so industriously with his knowledge, that hefancied himself well informed concerning the whole situation.
Meanwhile his residence with his family at Diplow enabled him to continuehis fatherly attentions to Gwendolen; and in these Lady Mallinger,notwithstanding her small liking for widows, was quite willing to secondhim.
The plan of removal to Offendene had been carried out; and Gwendolen, insettling there, maintained a calm beyond her mother's hopes. She wasexperiencing some of that peaceful melancholy which comes from therenunciation of demands for self, and from taking the ordinary good ofexistence, and especially kindness, even from a dog, as a gift aboveexpectation. Does one who has been all but lost in a pit of darknesscomplain of the sweet air and the daylight? There is a way of looking atour life daily as an escape, and taking the quiet return of morn andevening--still more the star-like out-glowing of some pure fellow-feeling,some generous impulse breaking our inward darkness--as a salvation thatreconciles us to hardship. Those who have a self-knowledge prompting suchself-accusation as Hamlet's, can understand this habitual feeling ofrescue. And it was felt by Gwendolen as she lived through and throughagain the terrible history of her temptations, from their first form ofillusory self-pleasing when she struggled away from the hold ofconscience, to their latest form of an urgent hatred dragging her towardits satisfaction, while she prayed and cried for the help of thatconscience which she had once forsaken. She was now dwelling on every wordof Deronda's that pointed to her past deliverance from the worst evil inherself, and the worst infliction of it on others, and on every word thatcarried a force to resist self-despair.
But she was also upborne by the prospect of soon seeing him again: she didnot imagine him otherwise than always within her reach, her supreme needof him blinding her to the separateness of his life, the whole scene ofwhich she filled with his relation to her--no unique preoccupation ofGwendolen's, for we are all apt to fall into this passionate egoism ofimagination, not only toward our fellow-men, but toward God. And thefuture which she turned her face to with a willing step was one where shewould be continually assimilating herself to some type that he would holdbefore her. Had he not first risen on her vision as a corrective presencewhich she had recognized in the beginning with resentment, and at lastwith entire love and trust? She could not spontaneously think of an end tothat reliance, which had become to her imagination like the firmness ofthe earth, the only condition of her walking.
And Deronda was not long before he came to Diplow, which was a moreconvenient distance from town than the Abbey. He had wished to carry out aplan for taking Ezra and Mirah to a mild spot on the coast, while heprepared another home which Mirah might enter as his bride, and where theymight unitedly watch over her brother. But Ezra begged not to be removed,unless it were to go with them to the East. All outward solicitations werebecoming more and more of a burden to him; but his mind dwelt on thepossibility of this voyage with a visionary joy. Deronda, in hispreparations for the marriage, which he hoped might not be deferred beyonda couple of months, wished to have fuller consultation as to his resourcesand affairs generally with Sir Hugo, and here was a reason for notdelaying his visit to Diplow. But he thought quite as much of anotherreason--his promise to Gwendolen. The sense of blessedness in his own lothad yet an aching anxiety at his heart: this may be held paradoxical, forthe beloved lover is always called happy, and happiness is considered as awell-fleshed indifference to sorrow outside it. But human experience isusually paradoxical, if that means incongruous with the phrases ofcurrent, talk or even current philosophy. It was no treason to Mirah, buta part of that full nature which made his love for her the more worthy,that his joy in her could hold by its side the care for another. For whatis love itself, for the one we love best?--an enfolding of immeasurablecares which yet are better than any joys outside our love.
Deronda came twice to Diplow, and saw Gwendolen twice--and yet he wentback to town without having told her anything about the change in his lotand prospects. He blamed himself; but in all momentous communicationlikely to give pain we feel dependent on some preparatory turn of words orassociations, some agreement of the other's mood with the probable effectof what we have to impart. In the first interview Gwendolen was soabsorbed in what she had to say to him, so full of questions which he mustanswer, about the arrangement of her life, what she could do to makeherself less ignorant, how she could be kindest to everybody, and makeamends for her selfishness and try to be rid of it, that Deronda utterlyshrank from waiving her immediate wants in order to speak of himself, nay,from inflicting a wound on her in these moments when she was leaning onhim for help in her path. In the second interview, when he went with newresolve to command the conversation into some preparatory track, he foundher in a state of deep depression, overmastered by some distastefulmiserable memories which forced themselves on her as something more realand ample than any new material out of which she could mould her future.She cried hysterically, and said that he would always despise her. Hecould only seek words of soothing and encouragement: and when shegradually revived under them, with that pathetic look of renewed childlikeinterest which we see in eyes where the lashes are still beaded withtears, it was impossible to lay another burden on her.
But time went on, and he felt it a pressing duty to make the difficultdisclosure. Gwendolen, it was true, never recognized his having anyaffairs; and it had never even occurred to her to ask him why he happenedto be at Genoa. But this unconsciousness of hers would make a suddenrevelation of affairs that were determining his course in life all theheavier blow to her; and if he left the revelation to be made by differentpersons, she would feel that he had treated her with cruelinconsiderateness. He could not make the communication in writing: histenderness could not bear to think of her reading his virtual farewell insolitude, and perhaps feeling his words full of a hard gladness forhimself and indifference for her. He went down to Diplow again, feelingthat every other peril was to be incurred rather than that of returningand leaving her still in ignorance.
On this third visit Deronda found Hans Meyrick installed with his easel atDiplow, beginning his picture of the three daughters sitting on a bank,"in the Gainsborough style," and varying his work by rambling to Pennicoteto sketch the village children and improve his acquaintance with theGascoignes. Hans appeared to have recovered his vivacity, but Derondadetected some feigning in it, as we detect the artificiality of a lady'sbloom from its being a little too high-toned and steadily persistent (a"Fluctuating Rouge" not having yet appeared among the advertisements).Also with all his grateful friendship and admiration for Deronda, Hanscould not help a certain irritation against him, such as extremelyincautious, open natures are apt to feel when the breaking of a friend'sreserve discloses a state of things not merely unsuspected but the reverseof what had been hoped and ingeniously conjectured. It is true that poorHans had always cared chiefly to confide in Deronda, and had been quiteincurious as to any confidence that might have been given in return; butwhat outpourer of his own affairs is not tempted to think any hint of hisfriend's affairs is an egotistic irrelevance? That was no reason why it wasnot rather a sore reflection to Hans that while he had been all alongnaively opening his heart about Mirah, Deronda had kept secret a feelingof rivalry which now revealed itself as the important determining fact.Moreover, it is always at their peril that our friends turn out to besomething more than we were aware of. Hans must be excused for thesepromptings of bruised sensibility, since he had not allowed them to governhis substantial conduct: he had the consciousness of having done right byhis fortunate friend; or, as he told himself, "his metal had given abetter ring than he would have sworn to beforehand." For Hans had alwayssaid that in point of virtue he was a _dilettante_: which meant that hewas very fond of it in other people, but if he meddled with it himself hecut a poor figure. Perhaps in reward of his good behavior he gave histongue the more freedom; and he was too fully possessed by the notion ofDeronda's happiness to have a conception of what lie was feeling aboutGwendolen, so that he spoke of her without hesitation.
"When did you come down, Hans?" said Deronda, joining him in the groundswhere he was making a study of the requisite bank and trees.
"Oh, ten days ago; before the time Sir Hugo fixed. I ran down with RexGascoigne and stayed at the rectory a day or two. I'm up in all the gossipof these parts; I know the state of the wheelwright's interior, and haveassisted at an infant school examination. Sister Anna, with the good upperlip, escorted me, else I should have been mobbed by three urchins and anidiot, because of my long hair and a general appearance which departs fromthe Pennicote type of the beautiful. Altogether, the village is idyllic.Its only fault is a dark curate with broad shoulders and broad trouserswho ought to have gone into the heavy drapery line. The Gascoignes areperfect--besides being related to the Vandyke duchess. I caught a glimpseof her in her black robes at a distance, though she doesn't show tovisitors."
"She was not staying at the rectory?" said Deronda,
like to know of. "Whydidn't she fall in love with me?" thought Hans, laughing at himself. "Shewould have had no rivals. No woman ever wanted to discuss theology withme."she would?
"No; but I was taken to Offendene to see the old house, and as aconsequence I saw the duchess' family. I suppose you have been there andknow all about them?"
"Yes, I have been there," said Deronda, quietly.
"A fine old place. An excellent setting for a widow with romanticfortunes. And she seems to have had several romances. I think I have foundout that there was one between her and my friend Rex."
"Not long before her marriage, then?" said Deronda, really interested,"for they had only been a year at Offendene. How came you to know anythingof it?"
"Oh--not ignorant of what it is to be a miserable devil. I learn to gloaton the signs of misery in others. I found out that Rex never goes toOffendene, and has never seen the duchess since she came back; and MissGascoigne let fall something in our talk about charade-acting--for I wentthrough some of my nonsense to please the young ones--something thatproved to me that Rex was once hovering about his fair cousin close enoughto get singed. I don't know what was her part in the affair. Perhaps theduke came in and carried her off. That is always the way when anexceptionally worthy young man forms an attachment. I understand now whyGascoigne talks of making the law his mistress and remaining a bachelor.But these are green resolves. Since the duke did not get himself drownedfor your sake, it may turn out to be for my friend Rex's sake. Who knows?"
"Is it absolutely necessary that Mrs. Grandcourt should marry again?" saidDeronda, ready to add that Hans's success in constructing her fortuneshitherto had not been enough to warrant a new attempt.
"You monster!" retorted Hans, "do you want her to wear weeds for _you_ allher life--burn herself in perpetual suttee while you are alive and merry?"
Deronda could say nothing, but he looked so much annoyed that Hans turnedthe current of his chat, and when he was alone shrugged his shoulders alittle over the thought that there really had been some stronger feelingbetween Deronda and the duchess than Mirah would like to know of. "Whydidn't she fall in love with me?" thought Hans, laughing at himself. "Shewould have had no rivals. No woman ever wanted to discuss theology withme."
No wonder that Deronda winced under that sort of joking with a whip-lash.It touched sensibilities that were already quivering with the anticipationof witnessing some of that pain to which even Hans's light words seemed togive more reality:--any sort of recognition by another giving emphasis tothe subject of our anxiety. And now he had come down with the firm resolvethat he would not again evade the trial. The next day he rode toOffendene. He had sent word that he intended to call and to ask ifGwendolen could receive him; and he found her awaiting him in the olddrawing-room where some chief crises of her life had happened. She seemedless sad than he had seen her since her husband's death; there was nosmile on her face, but a placid self-possession, in contrast with the moodin which he had last found her. She was all the more alive to the sadnessperceptible in Deronda; and they were no sooner seated--he at a littledistance opposite to her--than she said:
"You were afraid of coming to see me, because I was so full of grief anddespair the last time. But I am not so today. I have been sorry eversince. I have been making it a reason why I should keep up my hope and beas cheerful as I can, because I would not give you any pain about me."
There was an unwonted sweetness in Gwendolen's tone and look as sheuttered these words that seemed to Deronda to infuse the utmost crueltyinto the task now laid upon him. But he felt obliged to make his answer abeginning of the task.
"I _am_ in some trouble to-day," he said, looking at her rathermournfully; "but it is because I have things to tell you which you willalmost think it a want of confidence on my part not to have spoken ofbefore. They are things affecting my own life--my own future. I shall seemto have made an ill return to you for the trust you have placed in me--never to have given you an idea of events that make great changes for me.But when we have been together we have hardly had time to enter intosubjects which at the moment were really less pressing to me than thetrials you have been going through." There was a sort of timid tendernessin Deronda's deep tones, and he paused with a pleading look, as if it hadbeen Gwendolen only who had conferred anything in her scenes of beseechingand confession.
A thrill of surprise was visible in her. Such meaning as she found in hiswords had shaken her, but without causing fear. Her mind had flown at onceto some change in his position with regard to Sir Hugo and Sir Hugo'sproperty. She said, with a sense of comfort from Deronda's way of askingher pardon--