Daniel Deronda
乔治.艾略特 George Eliot
CHAPTER XIV.
I will not clothe myself in wreck--wear gemsSawed from cramped finger-bones of women drowned;Feel chilly vaporous hands of ireful ghostsClutching my necklace: trick my maiden breastWith orphans' heritage. Let your dead loveMarry it's dead.
Gwendolen looked lovely and vigorous as a tall, newly-opened lily the nextmorning: there was a reaction of young energy in her, and yesterday'sself-distrust seemed no more than the transient shiver on the surface of afull stream. The roving archery match in Cardell Chase was a delightfulprospect for the sport's sake: she felt herself beforehand moving aboutlike a wood-nymph under the beeches (in appreciative company), and theimagined scene lent a charm to further advances on the part of Grandcourt--not an impassioned lyrical Daphnis for the wood-nymph, certainly: but somuch the better. To-day Gwendolen foresaw him making slow conversationalapproaches to a declaration, and foresaw herself awaiting and encouragingit according to the rational conclusion which she had expressed to heruncle.
When she came down to breakfast (after every one had left the table exceptMrs. Davilow) there were letters on her plate. One of them she read with agathering smile, and then handed it to her mamma, who, on returning it,smiled also, finding new cheerfulness in the good spirits her daughter hadshown ever since waking, and said--
"You don't feel inclined to go a thousand miles away?"
"Not exactly so far."
"It was a sad omission not to have written again before this. Can't youwrite how--before we set out this morning?"
"It is not so pressing. To-morrow will do. You see they leave town to-day.I must write to Dover. They will be there till Monday."
"Shall I write for you, dear--if it teases you?"
Gwendolen did not speak immediately, but after sipping her coffee,answered brusquely, "Oh no, let it be; I will write to-morrow." Then,feeling a touch of compunction, she looked up and said with playfultenderness, "Dear, old, beautiful mamma!"
"Old, child, truly."
"Please don't, mamma! I meant old for darling. You are hardly twenty-fiveyears older than I am. When you talk in that way my life shrivels upbefore me."
"One can have a great deal of happiness in twenty-five years, my dear."
"I must lose no time in beginning," said Gwendolen, merrily. "The sooner Iget my palaces and coaches the better."
"And a good husband who adores you, Gwen," said Mrs. Davilow,encouragingly.
drawback on her pleasure in starting that the rector wasdetained by magistrate?
Gwendolen put out her lips saucily and said nothing.
It was a slight drawback on her pleasure in starting that the rector wasdetained by magistrate's business, and would probably not be able to getto Cardell Chase at all that day. She cared little that Mrs. Gascoigne andAnna chose not to go without him, but her uncle's presence would haveseemed to make it a matter of course that the decision taken would beacted on. For decision in itself began to be formidable. Having come closeto accepting Grandcourt, Gwendolen felt this lot of unhoped-for fullnessrounding itself too definitely. When we take to wishing a great deal forourselves, whatever we get soon turns into mere limitation and exclusion.Still there was the reassuring thought that marriage would be the gateinto a larger freedom.
The place of meeting was a grassy spot called Green Arbor, where a bit ofhanging wood made a sheltering amphitheatre. It was here that the coachfulof servants with provisions had to prepare the picnic meal; and the wardenof the Chase was to guide the roving archers so as to keep them within thedue distance from this centre, and hinder them from wandering beyond thelimit which had been fixed on--a curve that might be drawn through certainwell-known points, such as the double Oak, the Whispering Stones, and theHigh Cross. The plan was to take only a preliminary stroll beforeluncheon, keeping the main roving expedition for the more exquisite lightsof the afternoon. The muster was rapid enough to save every one from dullmoments of waiting, and when the groups began to scatter themselvesthrough the light and shadow made here by closely neighboring beeches andthereby rarer oaks, one may suppose that a painter would have been glad tolook on. This roving archery was far prettier than the stationary game,but success in shooting at variable marks were less favored by practice,and the hits were distributed among the volunteer archers otherwise thanthey would have been in target-shooting. From this cause, perhaps, as wellas from the twofold distraction of being preoccupied and wishing not tobetray her preoccupation, Gwendolen did not greatly distinguish herself inthese first experiments, unless it were by the lively grace with which shetook her comparative failure. She was in white and green as on the day ofthe former meeting, when it made an epoch for her that she was introducedto Grandcourt; he was continually by her side now, yet it would have beenhard to tell from mere looks and manners that their relation to each otherhad at all changed since their first conversation. Still there were othergrounds that made most persons conclude them to be, if not engagedalready, on the eve of being so. And she believed this herself. As theywere all returning toward Green Arbor in divergent groups, not thinking atall of taking aim but merely chattering, words passed which seemed reallythe beginning of that end--the beginning of her acceptance. Grandcourtsaid, "Do you know how long it is since I first saw you in this dress?"
"The archery meeting was on the 25th, and this is the 13th," saidGwendolen, laughingly. "I am not good at calculating, but I will ventureto say that it must be nearly three weeks."
A little pause, and then he said, "That is a great loss of time."
"That your knowing me has caused you? Pray don't be uncomplimentary; Idon't like it."
Pause again. "It is because of the gain that I feel the loss."
Here Gwendolen herself let a pause. She was thinking, "He is really veryingenious. He never speaks stupidly." Her silence was so unusual that itseemed the strongest of favorable answers, and he continued:
"The gain of knowing you makes me feel the time I lose in uncertainty. Do_you_ like uncertainty?"
"I think I do, rather," said Gwendolen, suddenly beaming on him with aplayful smile. "There is more in it."
Grandcourt met her laughing eyes with a slow, steady look right into them,which seemed like vision in the abstract, and then said, "Do you mean moretorment for me?"
There was something so strange to Gwendolen in this moment that she wasquite shaken out of her usual self-consciousness. Blushing and turningaway her eyes, she said, "No, that would make me sorry."
Grandcourt would have followed up this answer, which the change in hermanner made apparently decisive of her favorable intention; but he was notin any way overcome so as to be unaware that they were now, within sightof everybody, descending the space into Green Arbor, and descending it atan ill-chosen point where it began to be inconveniently steep. This was areason for offering his hand in the literal sense to help her; she tookit, and they came down in silence, much observed by those already on thelevel--among others by Mrs. Arrowpoint, who happened to be standing withMrs. Davilow. That lady had now made up her mind that Grandcourt's meritswere not such as would have induced Catherine to accept him, Catherinehaving so high a standard as to have refused Lord Slogan. Hence she lookedat the tenant of Diplow with dispassionate eyes.
"Mr. Grandcourt is not equal as a man to his uncle, Sir Hugo Mallinger--too languid. To be sure, Mr. Grandcourt is a much younger man, but Ishouldn't wonder if Sir Hugo were to outlive him, notwithstanding thedifference of years. It is ill calculating on successions," concluded Mrs.Arrowpoint, rather too loudly.
"It is indeed," said Mrs. Davilow, able to assent with quiet cheerfulness,for she was so well satisfied with the actual situation of affairs thather habitual melancholy in their general unsatisfactoriness was altogetherin abeyance.
I am not concerned to tell of the food that was eaten in that greenrefectory, or even to dwell on the stories of the forest scenery thatspread themselves out beyond the level front of the hollow; being just nowbound to tell a story of life at a stage when the blissful beauty of earthand sky entered only by narrow and oblique inlets into the consciousness,which was busy with a small social drama almost as little penetrated by afeeling of wider relations as if it had been a puppet-show. It will beunderstood that the food and champagne were of the best--the talk andlaughter too, in the sense of belonging to the best society, where no onemakes an invidious display of anything in particular, and the advantagesof the world are taken with that high-bred depreciation which follows frombeing accustomed to them. Some of the gentlemen strolled a little andindulged in a cigar, there being a sufficient interval before, fouro'clock--the time for beginning to rove again. Among these, strange tosay, was Grandcourt; but not Mr. Lush, who seemed to be taking hispleasure quite generously to-day by making himself particularlyserviceable, ordering everything for everybody, and by this activitybecoming more than ever a blot on the scene to Gwendolen, though he kepthimself amiably aloof from her, and never even looked at her obviously.When there was a general move to prepare for starting, it appeared thatthe bows had all been put under the charge of Lord Brackenshaw's valet,and Mr. Lush was concerned to save ladies the trouble of fetching theirsfrom the carriage where they were propped. He did not intend to bringGwendolen's, but she, fearful lest he should do so, hurried to fetch itherself. The valet, seeing her approach, met her with it, and in giving itinto her hand gave also a letter addressed to her. She asked no questionabout it, perceived at a glance that the address was in a lady'shandwriting (of the delicate kind which used to be esteemed femininebefore the present uncial period), and moving away with her bow in herhand, saw Mr. Lush coming to fetch other bows. To avoid meeting him sheturned aside and walked with her back toward the stand of carriages,opening the letter. It contained these words--
If Miss Harleth is in doubt whether she should accept Mr. Grandcourt,let her break from her party after they have passed the WhisperingStones and return to that spot. She will then hear something to decideher; but she can only hear it by keeping this letter a strict secretfrom every one. If she does not act according to this letter, she willrepent, as the woman who writes it has repented. The secrecy MissHarleth will feel herself bound in honor to guard.
Gwendolen felt an inward shock, but her immediate thought was, "It is comein time." It lay in her youthfulness that she was absorbed by the idea ofthe revelation to be made, and had not even a momentary suspicion ofcontrivance that could justify her in showing the letter. Her mindgathered itself up at once into the resolution, that she would manage togo unobserved to the Whispering Stones; and thrusting the letter into herpocket she turned back to rejoin the company, with that sense of havingsomething to conceal which to her nature had a bracing quality and helpedher to be mistress of herself.
It was a surprise to every one that Grandcourt was not, like the othersmokers, on the spot in time to set out roving with the rest. "We shallalight on him by-and-by," said Lord Brackenshaw; "he can't be gone far."At any rate, no man could be waited for. This apparent forgetfulness mightbe taken for the distraction of a lover so absorbed in thinking of thebeloved object as to forget an appointment which would bring him into heractual presence. And the good-natured Earl gave Gwendolen a distant jocosehint to that effect, which she took with suitable quietude. But thethought in her mind was "Can he too be starting away from a decision?" Itwas not exactly a pleasant thought to her; but it was near the truth."Starting away," however, was not the right expression for the languor ofintention that came over Grandcourt, like a fit of diseased numbness, whenan end seemed within easy reach: to desist then, when all expectation wasto the contrary, became another gratification of mere will, sublimelyindependent of definite motive. At that moment he had begun a second largecigar in a vague, hazy obstinacy which, if Lush or any other mortal whomight be insulted with impunity had interrupted by overtaking him with arequest for his return, would have expressed itself by a slow removal ofhis cigar, to say in an undertone, "You'll be kind enough to go to thedevil, will you?"
But he was not interrupted, and the rovers set off without any visibledepression of spirits, leaving behind only a few of the less vigorousladies, including Mrs. Davilow, who preferred a quiet stroll free fromobligation to keep up with others. The enjoyment of the day was soon atits highest pitch, the archery getting more spirited and the changingscenes of the forest from roofed grove to open glade growing lovelier withthe lengthening shadows, and the deeply-felt but undefinable gradations ofthe mellowing afternoon. It was agreed that they were playing anextemporized "As you like it;" and when a pretty compliment had beenturned to Gwendolen about her having the part of Rosalind, she felt themore compelled to be surpassing in loveliness. This was not very difficultto her, for the effect of what had happened to-day was an excitement whichneeded a vent--a sense of adventure rather than alarm, and a strainingtoward the management of her retreat, so as not to be impeded.
willrepent, as the woman who writes.
The roving had been lasting nearly an hour before the arrival at theWhispering Stones, two tall conical blocks that leaned toward each otherlike gigantic gray-mantled figures. They were soon surveyed and passed bywith the remark that they would be good ghosts on a starlit night. But asoft sunlight was on them now, and Gwendolen felt daring. The stones werenear a fine grove of beeches, where the archers found plenty of marks.
"How far are we from Green Arbor now?" said Gwendolen, having got in frontby the side of the warden.
"Oh, not more than half a mile, taking along the avenue we're going tocross up there: but I shall take round a Couple of miles, by the HighCross."
She was falling back among the rest, when suddenly they seemed all to behurrying obliquely forward under the guidance of Mr. Lush, and lingering alittle where she was, she perceived her opportunity of slipping away. Soonshe was out of sight, and without running she seemed to herself to flyalong the ground and count the moments nothing till she found herself backagain at the Whispering Stones. They turned their blank gray sides to her:what was there on the other side? If there were nothing after all? Thatwas her only dread now--to have to turn back again in mystification; andwalking round the right-hand stone without pause, she found herself infront of some one whose large dark eyes met hers at a foot's distance. Inspite of expectation, she was startled and shrank bank, but in doing soshe could take in the whole figure of this stranger and perceive that shewas unmistakably a lady, and one who must have been exceedingly handsome.She perceived, also, that a few yards from her were two children seated onthe grass.
"Miss Harleth?" said the lady.
"Yes." All Gwendolen's consciousness was wonder.
"Have you accepted Mr. Grandcourt?"
"No."
"I have promised to tell you something. And you will promise to keep mysecret. However you may decide you will not tell Mr. Grandcourt, or anyone else, that you have seen me?"
"I promise."
"My name is Lydia Glasher. Mr. Grandcourt ought not to marry any one butme. I left my husband and child for him nine years ago. Those two childrenare his, and we have two others--girls--who are older. My husband is deadnow, and Mr. Grandcourt ought to marry me. He ought to make that boy hisheir."
She looked at the boy as she spoke, and Gwendolen's eyes followed hers.The handsome little fellow was puffing out his cheeks in trying to blow atiny trumpet which remained dumb. His hat hung backward by a string, andhis brown purls caught the sun-rays. He was a cherub.
The two women's eyes met again, and Gwendolen said proudly, "I will notinterfere with your wishes." She looked as if she were shivering, and herlips were pale.
"You are very attractive, Miss Harleth. But when he first knew me, I toowas young. Since then my life has been broken up and embittered. It is notfair that he should be happy and I miserable, and my boy thrust out ofsight for another."
These words were uttered with a biting accent, but with a determinedabstinence from anything violent in tone or manner. Gwendolen, watchingMrs. Glasher's face while she spoke, felt a sort of terror: it was as ifsome ghastly vision had come to her in a dream and said, "I am a woman'slife."
"Have you anything more to say to me?" she asked in a low tone, but stillproud and coldly. The revulsion within her was not tending to soften her.Everyone seemed hateful.
"Nothing. You know what I wished you to know. You can inquire about me ifyou like. My husband was Colonel Glasher."
"Then I will go," said Gwendolen, moving away with a ceremoniousinclination, which was returned with equal grace.
In a few minutes Gwendolen was in the beech grove again but her party hadgone out of sight and apparently had not sent in search of her, for allwas solitude till she had reached the avenue pointed out by the warden.She determined to take this way back to Green Arbor, which she reachedquickly; rapid movements seeming to her just now a means of suspending thethoughts which might prevent her from behaving with due calm. She hadalready made up her mind what step she would take.
Mrs. Davilow was of course astonished to see Gwendolen returning alone,and was not without some uneasiness which the presence of other ladieshindered her from showing. In answer to her words of surprise Gwendolensaid--
"Oh, I have been rather silly. I lingered behind to look at the WhisperingStones, and the rest hurried on after something, so I lost sight of them.I thought it best to come home by the short way--the avenue that thewarden had old me of. I'm not sorry after all. I had had enough walking."
"Your party did not meet Mr. Grandcourt, I presume," said Mrs. Arrowpoint,not without intention.
"No," said Gwendolen, with a little flash of defiance, and a light laugh."And we didn't see any carvings on the trees, either. Where can he be? Ishould think he has fallen into the pool or had an apoplectic fit."
apoplectic fit." by those already on thelevel--among others by Mrs. Arrowpoint.
With all Gwendolen's resolve not to betray any agitation, she could nothelp it that her tone was unusually high and hard, and her mother feltsure that something unpropitious had happened.
Mrs. Arrowpoint thought that the self-confident young lady was muchpiqued, and that Mr. Grandcourt was probably seeing reason to change hismind.
"If you have no objection, mamma, I will order the carriage," saidGwendolen. "I am tired. And every one will be going soon."
Mrs. Davilow assented; but by the time the carriage was announced as,ready--the horses having to be fetched from the stables on the warden'spremises--the roving party reappeared, and with them Mr. Grandcourt.
"Ah, there you are!" said Lord Brackenshaw, going up to Gwendolen, who wasarranging her mamma's shawl for the drive. "We thought at first you hadalighted on Grandcourt and he had taken you home. Lush said so. But afterthat we met Grandcourt. However, we didn't suppose you could be in anydanger. The warden said he had told you a near way back."
"You are going?" said Grandcourt, coming up with his usual air, as if hedid not conceive that there had been any omission on his part. LordBrackenshaw gave place to him and moved away.
"Yes, we are going," said Gwendolen, looking busily at her scarf, whichshe was arranging across her shoulders Scotch fashion.
"May I call at Offendene to-morrow?"
"Oh yes, if you like," said Gwendolen, sweeping him from a distance withher eyelashes. Her voice was light and sharp as the first touch of frost.
Mrs. Davilow accepted his arm to lead her to the carriage; but while thatwas happening, Gwendolen with incredible swiftness had got in advance ofthem, and had sprung into the carriage.
"I got in, mamma, because I wished to be on this side," she said,apologetically. But she had avoided Grandcourt's touch: he only lifted hishat and walked away--with the not unsatisfactory impression that she meantto show herself offended by his neglect.
The mother and daughter drove for five minutes in silence. Then Gwendolensaid, "I intend to join the Langens at Dover, mamma. I shall pack upimmediately on getting home, and set off by the early train. I shall be atDover almost as soon as they are; we can let them know by telegraph."
"Good heavens, child! what can be your reason for saying so?"
"My reason for saying it, mamma, is that I mean to do it."
"But why do you mean to do it?"
"I wish to go away."
"Is it because you are offended with Mr. Grandcourt's odd behavior inwalking off to-day?"
"It is useless to enter into such questions. I am not going in any case tomarry Mr. Grandcourt. Don't interest yourself further about it."
"What can I say to your uncle, Gwendolen? Consider the position you placeme in. You led him to believe only last night that you had made up yourmind in favor of Mr. Grandcourt."
"I am very sorry to cause you annoyance, mamma, dear, but I can't helpit," said Gwendolen, with still harder resistance in her tone. "Whateveryou or my uncle may think or do, I shall not alter my resolve, and I shallnot tell my reason. I don't care what comes of it. I don't care if I nevermarry any one. There is nothing worth caring for. I believe all men arebad, and I hate them."
"But need you set off in this way, Gwendolen," said Mrs. Davilow,miserable and helpless.
"Now mamma, don't interfere with me. If you have ever had any trouble inyour own life, remember it and don't interfere with me. If I am to bemiserable, let it be by my own choice."
The mother was reduced to trembling silence. She began to see that thedifficulty would be lessened if Gwendolen went away.
And she did go. The packing was all carefully done that evening, and notlong after dawn the next day Mrs. Davilow accompanied her daughter to therailway station. The sweet dews of morning, the cows and horses lookingover the hedges without any particular reason, the early travelers on footwith their bundles, seemed all very melancholy and purposeless to themboth. The dingy torpor of the railway station, before the ticket could betaken, was still worse. Gwendolen had certainly hardened in the lasttwenty-four hours: her mother's trouble evidently counted for little inher present state of mind, which did not essentially differ from the moodthat makes men take to worse conduct when their belief in persons orthings is upset. Gwendolen's uncontrolled reading, though consistingchiefly in what are called pictures of life, had somehow not prepared herfor this encounter with reality. Is that surprising? It is to be believedthat attendance at the _opéra bouffe_ in the present day would not leavemen's minds entirely without shock, if the manners observed there withsome applause were suddenly to start up in their own families.Perspective, as its inventor remarked, is a beautiful thing. What horrorsof damp huts, where human beings languish, may not become picturesquethrough aerial distance! What hymning of cancerous vices may we notlanguish over as sublimest art in the safe remoteness of a strangelanguage and artificial phrase! Yet we keep a repugnance to rheumatism andother painful effects when presented incur personal experience.
Mrs. Davilow felt Gwendolen's new phase of indifference keenly, and as shedrove back alone, the brightening morning was sadder to her than before.
Mr. Grandcourt called that day at Offendene, but nobody was at home.