Daniel Deronda
乔治.艾略特 George Eliot
CHAPTER XIII. Page 2
"Mr. Grandcourt has been saying something?--Tell me, dear." The last wordswere uttered beseechingly.
"What am I to tell you, mamma?" was the perverse answer.
"I am sure something has agitated you. You ought to confide in me, Gwen.You ought not to leave me in doubt and anxiety." Mrs. Davilow's eyesfilled with tears.
"Mamma, dear, please don't be miserable," said Gwendolen, with pettishremonstrance. "It only makes me more so. I am in doubt myself."
"About Mr. Grandcourt's intentions?" said Mrs. Davilow, gatheringdetermination from her alarms.
"No; not at all," said Gwendolen, with some curtness, and a pretty littletoss of the head as she put on her hat again.
"About whether you will accept him, then?"
"Precisely."
"Have you given him a doubtful answer?"
"I have given him no answer at all."
"He _has_ spoken so that you could not misunderstand him?"
"As far as I would let him speak."
"You expect him to persevere?" Mrs. Davilow put this question ratheranxiously, and receiving no answer, asked another: "You don't considerthat you have discouraged him?"
what he has been thinking of. But he may have.
"I dare say not."
"I thought you liked him, dear," said Mrs. Davilow, timidly.
"So I do, mamma, as liking goes. There is less to dislike about him thanabout most men. He is quiet and _distingué_." Gwendolen so far spoke witha pouting sort of gravity; but suddenly she recovered some of hermischievousness, and her face broke into a smile as she added--"Indeed hehas all the qualities that would make a husband tolerable--battlement,veranda, stable, etc., no grins and no glass in his eye."
"Do be serious with me for a moment, dear. Am I to understand that youmean to accept him?"
"Oh, pray, mamma, leave me to myself," said Gwendolen, with a pettishdistress in her voice.
And Mrs. Davilow said no more.
When they got home Gwendolen declared that she would not dine. She wastired, and would come down in the evening after she had taken some rest.The probability that her uncle would hear what had passed did not troubleher. She was convinced that whatever he might say would be on the side ofher accepting Grandcourt, and she wished to accept him if she could. Atthis moment she would willingly have had weights hung on her own caprice.
Mr. Gascoigne did hear--not Gwendolen's answers repeated verbatim, but asoftened generalized account of them. The mother conveyed as vaguely asthe keen rector's questions would let her the impression that Gwendolenwas in some uncertainty about her own mind, but inclined on the whole toacceptance. The result was that the uncle felt himself called on tointerfere; he did not conceive that he should do his duty in witholdingdirection from his niece in a momentous crisis of this kind. Mrs. Davilowventured a hesitating opinion that perhaps it would be safer to saynothing--Gwendolen was so sensitive (she did not like to say willful). Butthe rector's was a firm mind, grasping its first judgments tenaciously andacting on them promptly, whence counter-judgments were no more for himthan shadows fleeting across the solid ground to which he adjustedhimself.
This match with Grandcourt presented itself to him as a sort of publicaffair; perhaps there were ways in which it might even strengthen theestablishment. To the rector, whose father (nobody would have suspectedit, and nobody was told) had risen to be a provincial corn-dealer,aristocratic heirship resembled regal heirship in excepting its possessorfrom the ordinary standard of moral judgments, Grandcourt, the almostcertain baronet, the probable peer, was to be ranged with publicpersonages, and was a match to be accepted on broad general groundsnational and ecclesiastical. Such public personages, it is true, are oftenin the nature of giants which an ancient community may have felt pride andsafety in possessing, though, regarded privately, these born eminencesmust often have been inconvenient and even noisome. But of the futurehusband personally Mr. Gascoigne was disposed to think the best. Gossip isa sort of smoke that comes from the dirty tobacco-pipes of of those whodiffuse it: it proves nothing but the bad taste of the smoker. But ifGrandcourt had really made any deeper or more unfortunate experiments infolly than were common in young men of high prospects, he was of an age tohave finished them. All accounts can be suitably wound up when a man hasnot ruined himself, and the expense may be taken as an insurance againstfuture error. This was the view of practical wisdom; with reference tohigher views, repentance had a supreme moral and religious value. Therewas every reason to believe that a woman of well-regulated mind would behappy with Grandcourt.
It was no surprise to Gwendolen on coming down to tea to be told that heruncle wished to see her in the dining-room. He threw aside the paper asshe entered and greeted her with his usual kindness. As his wife hadremarked, he always "made much" of Gwendolen, and her importance had risenof late. "My dear," he said, in a fatherly way, moving a chair for her ashe held her hand, "I want to speak to you on a subject which is moremomentous than any other with regard to your welfare. You will guess whatI mean. But I shall speak to you with perfect directness: in such mattersI consider myself bound to act as your father. You have no objection, Ihope?"
"Oh dear, no, uncle. You have always been very kind to me," saidGwendolen, frankly. This evening she was willing, if it were possible, tobe a little fortified against her troublesome self, and her resistanttemper was in abeyance. The rector's mode of speech always conveyed athrill of authority, as of a word of command: it seemed to take forgranted that there could be no wavering in the audience, and that everyone was going to be rationally obedient.
"It is naturally a satisfaction to me that the prospect of a marriage foryou--advantageous in the highest degree--has presented itself so early. Ido not know exactly what has passed between you and Mr. Grandcourt, but Ipresume there can be little doubt, from the way in which he hasdistinguished you, that he desires to make you his wife."
Gwendolen did not speak immediately, and her uncle said with moreemphasis--
"Have you any doubt of that yourself, my dear?"
"I suppose that is what he has been thinking of. But he may have changedhis mind to-morrow," said Gwendolen.
"Why to-morrow? Has he made advances which you have discouraged?"
"I think he meant--he began to make advances--but I did not encouragethem. I turned the conversation."
"Will you confide in me so far as to tell me your reasons?"
"I am not sure that I had any reasons, uncle." Gwendolen laughed ratherartificially.
"You are quite capable of reflecting, Gwendolen. You are aware that thisis not a trivial occasion, and it concerns your establishment for lifeunder circumstances which may not occur again. You have a duty here bothto yourself and your family. I wish to understand whether you have anyground for hesitating as to your acceptance of Mr. Grandcourt."
"I suppose I hesitate without grounds." Gwendolen spoke rather poutingly,and her uncle grew suspicious.
gossip hehad heard, but in any case he must endeavor to put all things in the!
"Is he disagreeable to you personally?"
"No."
"Have you heard anything of him which has affected you disagreeably?" Therector thought it impossible that Gwendolen could have heard the gossip hehad heard, but in any case he must endeavor to put all things in the rightlight for her.
"I have heard nothing about him except that he is a great match," saidGwendolen, with some sauciness; "and that affects me very agreeably."
"Then, my dear Gwendolen, I have nothing further to say than this: youhold your fortune in your own hands--a fortune such as rarely happens to agirl in your circumstances--a fortune in fact which almost takes thequestion out of the range of mere personal feeling, and makes youracceptance of it a duty. If Providence offers you power and position--especially when unclogged by any conditions that are repugnant to you--your course is one of responsibility, into which caprice must not enter. Aman does not like to have his attachment trifled with: he may not be atonce repelled--these things are matters of individual disposition. But thetrifling may be carried too far. And I must point out to you that in caseMr. Grandcourt were repelled without your having refused him--without yourhaving intended ultimately to refuse him, your situation would be ahumiliating and painful one. I, for my part, should regard you with severedisapprobation, as the victim of nothing else than your own coquetry andfolly."
anxiety." Mrs. Davilow's eyesfilled with tears.curtness, ?
Gwendolen became pallid as she listened to this admonitory speech. Theideas it raised had the force of sensations. Her resistant courage wouldnot help her here, because her uncle was not urging her against her ownresolve; he was pressing upon her the motives of dread which she alreadyfelt; he was making her more conscious of the risks that lay withinherself. She was silent, and the rector observed that he had produced somestrong effect.
"I mean this in kindness, my dear." His tone had softened.
"I am aware of that, uncle," said Gwendolen, rising and shaking her headback, as if to rouse herself out of painful passivity. "I am not foolish.I know that I must be married some time--before it is too late. And Idon't see how I could do better than marry Mr. Grandcourt. I mean toaccept him, if possible." She felt as if she were reinforcing herself byspeaking with this decisiveness to her uncle.
But the rector was a little startled by so bare a version of his ownmeaning from those young lips. He wished that in her mind his adviceshould be taken in an infusion of sentiments proper to a girl, and such asare presupposed in the advice of a clergyman, although he may not considerthem always appropriate to be put forward. He wished his niece parks,carriages, a title--everything that would make this world a pleasantabode; but he wished her not to be cynical--to be, on the contrary,religiously dutiful, and have warm domestic affections.
"My dear Gwendolen," he said, rising also, and speaking with benignantgravity, "I trust that you will find in marriage a new fountain of dutyand affection. Marriage is the only true and satisfactory sphere of awoman, and if your marriage with Mr. Grandcourt should be happily decidedupon, you will have, probably, an increasing power, both of rank andwealth, which may be used for the benefit of others. These considerationsare something higher than romance! You are fitted by natural gifts for aposition which, considering your birth and early prospects, could hardlybe looked forward to as in the ordinary course of things; and I trustthat, you will grace it, not only by those personal gifts, but by a goodand consistent life."
"I hope mamma will be the happier," said Gwendolen, in a more cheerfulway, lifting her hands backward to her neck and moving toward the door.She wanted to waive those higher considerations.
Mr. Gascoigne felt that he had come to a satisfactory understanding withhis niece, and had furthered her happy settlement in life by furtheringher engagement to Grandcourt. Meanwhile there was another person to whomthe contemplation of that issue had been a motive for some activity, andwho believed that he, too, on this particular day had done somethingtoward bringing about a favorable decision in _his_ sense--which happenedto be the reverse of the rector's.
Mr. Lush's absence from Diplow during Gwendolen's visit had been due, notto any fear on his part of meeting that supercilious young lady, or ofbeing abashed by her frank dislike, but to an engagement from which heexpected important consequences. He was gone, in fact, to the Wanchesterstation to meet a lady, accompanied by a maid and two children, whom heput into a fly, and afterward followed to the hotel of the Golden Keys, inthat town. An impressive woman, whom many would turn to look at again inpassing; her figure was slim and sufficiently tall, her face ratheremaciated, so that its sculpturesque beauty was the more pronounced, hercrisp hair perfectly black, and her large, anxious eyes what we callblack. Her dress was soberly correct, her age, perhaps, physically moreadvanced than the number of years would imply, but hardly less than seven-and-thirty. An uneasy-looking woman: her glance seemed to presuppose thatthe people and things were going to be unfavorable to her, while she was,nevertheless, ready to meet them with resolution. The children werelovely--a dark-haired girl of six or more, a fairer boy of five. When Lushincautiously expressed some surprise at her having brought the children,she said, with a sharp-toned intonation--
"Did you suppose I should come wandering about here by myself? Why shouldI not bring all four if I liked?"
"Oh, certainly," said Lush, with his usual fluent _nonchalance_.
He stayed an hour or so in conference with her, and rode back to Diplow ina state of mind that was at once hopeful and busily anxious as to theexecution of the little plan on which his hopefulness was based.Grandcourt's marriage to Gwendolen Harleth would not, he believed, be muchof a good to either of them, and it would plainly be fraught withdisagreeables to himself. But now he felt confident enough to sayinwardly, "I will take, nay, I will lay odds that the marriage will neverhappen."