Daniel Deronda
乔治.艾略特 George Eliot
CHAPTER XXVIII. Page 1
"Il est plus aisé de connoître l'homme en général que de connoître unhomme en particulier.--LA ROCHEFOUCAULD."
An hour after Grandcourt had left, the important news of Gwendolen'sengagement was known at the rectory, and Mr. and Mrs. Gascoigne, withAnna, spent the evening at Offendene.
"My dear, let me congratulate you on having created a strong attachment,"said the rector. "You look serious, and I don't wonder at it: a lifelongunion is a solemn thing. But from the way Mr. Grandcourt has acted andspoken I think we may already see some good arising out of our adversity.It has given you an opportunity of observing your future husband'sdelicate liberality."
Mr. Gascoigne referred to Grandcourt's mode of implying that he wouldprovide for Mrs. Davilow--a part of the love-making which Gwendolen hadremembered to cite to her mother with perfect accuracy.
"But I have no doubt that Mr. Grandcourt would have behaved quite ashandsomely if you had not gone away to Germany, Gwendolen, and had beenengaged to him, as you no doubt might have been, more than a month ago,"said Mrs. Gascoigne, feeling that she had to discharge a duty on thisoccasion. "But now there is no more room for caprice; indeed, I trust youhave no inclination to any. A woman has a great debt of gratitude to a manwho perseveres in making her such an offer. But no doubt you feelproperly."
"I am not at all sure that I do, aunt," said Gwendolen, with saucygravity. "I don't know everything it is proper to feel on being engaged."
The rector patted her shoulder and smiled as at a bit of innocentnaughtiness, and his wife took his behavior as an indication that she wasnot to be displeased. As for Anna, she kissed Gwendolen and said, "I dohope you will be happy," but then sank into the background and tried tokeep the tears back too. In the late days she had been imagining a littleromance about Rex--how if he still longed for Gwendolen her heart might besoftened by trouble into love, so that they could by-and-by be married.And the romance had turned to a prayer that she, Anna, might be able torejoice like a good sister, and only think of being useful in working forGwendolen, as long as Rex was not rich. But now she wanted grace torejoice in something else. Miss Merry and the four girls, Alice with thehigh shoulders, Bertha and Fanny the whisperers, and Isabel the listener,were all present on this family occasion, when everything seemedappropriately turning to the honor and glory of Gwendolen, and real lifewas as interesting as "Sir Charles Grandison." The evening passed chieflyin decisive remarks from the rector, in answer to conjectures from the twoelder ladies. According to him, the case was not one in which he couldthink it his duty to mention settlements: everything must, and doubtlesswould safely be left to Mr. Grandcourt.
"I should like to know exactly what sort of places Ryelands and Gadsmereare," said Mrs. Davilow.
"Gadsmere, I believe, is a secondary place," said Mr. Gascoigne; "ButRyelands I know to be one of our finest seats. The park is extensive andthe woods of a very valuable order. The house was built by Inigo Jones,and the ceilings are painted in the Italian style. The estate is said tobe worth twelve thousand a year, and there are two livings, one a rectory,in the gift of the Grandcourts. There may be some burdens on the land.Still, Mr. Grandcourt was an only child."
"It would be most remarkable," said Mrs. Gascoigne, "if he were to becomeLord Stannery in addition to everything else. Only think: there is theGrandcourt estate, the Mallinger estate, _and_ the baronetcy, _and_ thepeerage,"--she was marking off the items on her fingers, and paused on thefourth while she added, "but they say there will be no land coming to himwith the peerage." It seemed a pity there was nothing for the fifthfinger.
"The peerage," said the rector, judiciously, "must be regarded as a remotechance. There are two cousins between the present peer and Mr. Grandcourt.It is certainly a serious reflection how death and other causes dosometimes concentrate inheritances on one man. But an excess of that kindis to be deprecated. To be Sir Mallinger Grandcourt Mallinger--I supposethat will be his style--with corresponding properties, is a valuabletalent enough for any man to have committed to him. Let us hope it will bewell used."
"And what a position for the wife, Gwendolen!" said Mrs. Gascoigne; "agreat responsibility indeed. But you must lose no time in writing to Mrs.Mompert, Henry. It is a good thing that you have an engagement of marriageto offer as an excuse, else she might feel offended. She is rather a highwoman."
"I am rid of that horror," thought Gwendolen, to whom the name of Momperthad become a sort of Mumbo-jumbo. She was very silent through the evening,and that night could hardly sleep at all in her little white bed. It was ararity in her strong youth to be wakeful: and perhaps a still greaterrarity for her to be careful that her mother should not know of herrestlessness. But her state of mind was altogether new: she who had beenused to feel sure of herself, and ready to manage others, had just taken adecisive step which she had beforehand thought that she would not take--nay, perhaps, was bound not to take. She could not go backward now; sheliked a great deal of what lay before her; and there was nothing for herto like if she went back. But her resolution was dogged by the shadow ofthat previous resolve which had at first come as the undoubting movementof her whole being. While she lay on her pillow with wide-open eyes,"looking on darkness which the blind do see," she was appalled by the ideathat she was going to do what she had once started away from withrepugnance. It was new to her that a question of right or wrong in herconduct should rouse her terror; she had known no compunction that atoningcaresses and presents could not lay to rest. But here had come a momentwhen something like a new consciousness was awaked. She seemed on the edgeof adopting deliberately, as a notion for all the rest of her life, whatshe had rashly said in her bitterness, when her discovery had driven heraway to Leubronn:--that it did not signify what she did; she had only toamuse herself as best she could. That lawlessness, that casting away ofall care for justification, suddenly frightened her: it came to her withthe shadowy array of possible calamity behind it--calamity which hadceased to be a mere name for her; and all the infiltrated influences ofdisregarded religious teaching, as well as the deeper impressions ofsomething awful and inexorable enveloping her, seemed to concentratethemselves in the vague conception of avenging power. The brilliantposition she had longed for, the imagined freedom she would create forherself in marriage, the deliverance from the dull insignificance of hergirlhood--all immediately before her; and yet they had come to her hungerlike food with the taint of sacrilege upon it, which she must snatch withterror. In the darkness and loneliness of her little bed, her moreresistant self could not act against the first onslaught of dread afterher irrevocable decision. That unhappy-faced woman and her children--Grandcourt and his relations with her--kept repeating themselves in herimagination like the clinging memory of a disgrace, and graduallyobliterated all other thought, leaving only the consciousness that she hadtaken those scenes into her life. Her long wakefulness seemed a delirium;a faint, faint light penetrated beside the window-curtain; the chillnessincreased. She could bear it no longer, and cried "Mamma!"
"Yes, dear," said Mrs. Davilow, immediately, in a wakeful voice.
"Let me come to you."
She soon went to sleep on her mother's shoulder, and slept on till late,when, dreaming of a lit-up ball-room, she opened her eyes on her motherstanding by the bedside with a small packet in her hand.
"I am sorry to wake you, darling, but I thought it better to give you thisat once. The groom has brought Criterion; he has come on another horse,and says he is to stay here."
Gwendolen sat up in bed and opened the packet. It was a delicate enameledcasket, and inside was a splendid diamond ring with a letter whichcontained a folded bit of colored paper and these words:--
Pray wear this ring when I come at twelve in sign of our betrothal. Ienclose a check drawn in the name of Mr. Gascoigne, for immediateexpenses. Of course Mrs. Davilow will remain at Offendene, at leastfor some time. I hope, when I come, you will have granted me an earlyday, when you may begin to command me at a shorter distance.
Yours devotedly,
H. M. GRANDCOURT.
The checks was for five hundred pounds, and Gwendolen turned it toward hermother, with the letter.
"How very kind and delicate!" said Mrs. Davilow, with much feeling. "But Ireally should like better not to be dependent on a son-in-law. I and thegirls could get along very well."
"Mamma, if you say that again, I will not marry him," said Gwendolen,angrily.
"My dear child, I trust you are not going to marry only for my sake," saidMrs. Davilow, depreciatingly.
Gwendolen tossed her head on the pillow away from her mother, and let thering lie. She was irritated at this attempt to take away a motive. Perhapsthe deeper cause of her irritation was the consciousness that she was notgoing to marry solely for her mamma's sake--that she was drawn toward themarriage in ways against which stronger reasons than her mother'srenunciation were yet not strong enough to hinder her. She had waked up tothe signs that she was irrevocably engaged, and all the ugly visions, thealarms, the arguments of the night, must be met by daylight, in whichprobably they would show themselves weak. "What I long for is yourhappiness, dear," continued Mrs. Davilow, pleadingly. "I will not sayanything to vex you. Will you not put on the ring?"
For a few moments Gwendolen did not answer, but her thoughts were active.At last she raised herself with a determination to do as she would do ifshe had started on horseback, and go on with spirit, whatever ideas mightbe running in her head.
"I thought the lover always put on the betrothal ring himself," she saidlaughingly, slipping the ring on her finger, and looking at it with acharming movement of her head. "I know why he has sent it," she added,nodding at her mamma.
"Why?"
"He would rather make me put it on than ask me to let him do it. Aha! heis very proud. But so am I. We shall match each other. I should hate a manwho went down on his knees, and came fawning on me. He really is notdisgusting."
"That is very moderate praise, Gwen."
"No, it is not, for a man," said Gwendolen gaily. "But now I must get upand dress. Will you come and do my hair, mamma, dear," she went on,drawing down her mamma's face to caress it with her own cheeks, "and notbe so naughty any more as to talk of living in poverty? You must bear tobe made comfortable, even if you don't like it. And Mr. Grandcourt behavesperfectly, now, does he not?"
"Certainly he does," said Mrs. Davilow, encouraged, and persuaded thatafter all Gwendolen was fond of her betrothed. She herself thought him aman whose attentions were likely to tell on a girl's feeling. Suitors mustoften be judged as words are, by the standing and the figure they make inpolite society: it is difficult to know much else of them. And all themother's anxiety turned not on Grandcourt's character, but on Gwendolen'smood in accepting him.
The mood was necessarily passing through a new phase this morning. Even inthe hour of making her toilet, she had drawn on all the knowledge she hadfor grounds to justify her marriage. And what she most dwelt on was thedetermination, that when she was Grandcourt's wife, she would urge him tothe most liberal conduct toward Mrs. Glasher's children.
"Of what use would it be to her that I should not marry him? He could havemarried her if he liked; but he did _not_ like. Perhaps she is to blamefor that. There must be a great deal about her that I know nothing of. Andhe must have been good to her in many ways, else she would not have wantedto marry him."
But that last argument at once began to appear doubtful. Mrs. Glashernaturally wished to exclude other children who would stand betweenGrandcourt and her own: and Gwendolen's comprehension of this feelingprompted another way of reconciling claims.
"Perhaps we shall have no children. I hope we shall not. And he mightleave the estate to the pretty little boy. My uncle said that Mr.Grandcourt could do as he liked with the estates. Only when Sir HugoMallinger dies there will be enough for two."
This made Mrs. Glasher appear quite unreasonable in demanding that her boyshould be sole heir; and the double property was a security thatGrandcourt's marriage would do her no wrong, when the wife was GwendolenHarleth with all her proud resolution not to be fairly accused. Thismaiden had been accustomed to think herself blameless; other persons onlywere faulty.
It was striking, that in the hold which this argument of her doing nowrong to Mrs. Glasher had taken on her mind, her repugnance to the idea ofGrandcourt's past had sunk into a subordinate feeling. The terror she hadfelt in the night-watches at overstepping the border of wickedness bydoing what she had at first felt to be wrong, had dulled any emotionsabout his conduct. She was thinking of him, whatever he might be, as a manover whom she was going to have indefinite power; and her loving himhaving never been a question with her, any agreeableness he had was somuch gain. Poor Gwendolen had no awe of unmanageable forces in the stateof matrimony, but regarded it as altogether a matter of management, inwhich she would know how to act. In relation to Grandcourt's past sheencouraged new doubts whether he were likely to have differed much fromother men; and she devised little schemes for learning what was expectedof men in general.
But whatever else might be true in the world, her hair was dressedsuitably for riding, and she went down in her riding-habit, to avoid delaybefore getting on horseback. She wanted to have her blood stirred oncemore with the intoxication of youth, and to recover the daring with whichshe had been used to think of her course in life. Already a load waslifted off her; for in daylight and activity it was less oppressive tohave doubts about her choice, than to feel that she had no choice but toendure insignificance and servitude.
"Go back and make yourself look like a duchess, mamma," she said, turningsuddenly as she was going down-stairs. "Put your point-lace over yourhead. I must have you look like a duchess. You must not take thingshumbly."
When Grandcourt raised her left hand gently and looked at the ring, shesaid gravely, "It was very good of you to think of everything and send methat packet."
"You will tell me if there is anything I forget?" he said, keeping thehand softly within his own. "I will do anything you wish."
"But I am very unreasonable in my wishes," said Gwendolen, smiling.
"Yes, I expect that. Women always are."
"Then I will not be unreasonable," said Gwendolen, taking away her handand tossing her head saucily. "I will not be told that I am what womenalways are."
"I did not say that," said Grandcourt, looking at her with his usualgravity. "You are what no other woman is."
"And what is that, pray?" said Gwendolen, moving to a distance with alittle air of menace.
Grandcourt made his pause before he answered. "You are the woman I love."
"Oh, what nice speeches!" said Gwendolen, laughing. The sense of that lovewhich he must once have given to another woman under strange circumstanceswas getting familiar.
"Give me a nice speech in return. Say when we are to be married."
"Not yet. Not till we have had a gallop over the downs. I am so thirstyfor that, I can think of nothing else. I wish the hunting had begun.Sunday the twentieth, twenty-seventh, Monday, Tuesday." Gwendolen wascounting on her fingers with the prettiest nod while she looked atGrandcourt, and at last swept one palm over the other while she saidtriumphantly, "It will begin in ten days!"
blamefor that. There must be a great deal about her that I know nothing of. Andhe.
"Let us be married in ten days, then," said Grandcourt, "and we shall notbe bored about the stables."
"What do women always say in answer to that?" said Gwendolen,mischievously.
"They agree to it," said the lover, rather off his guard.
"Then I will not!" said Gwendolen, taking up her gauntlets and puttingthem on, while she kept her eyes on him with gathering fun in them.
The scene was pleasant on both sides. A cruder lover would have lost theview of her pretty ways and attitudes, and spoiled all by stupid attemptsat caresses, utterly destructive of drama. Grandcourt preferred the drama;and Gwendolen, left at ease, found her spirits rising continually as sheplayed at reigning. Perhaps if Klesmer had seen more of her in thisunconscious kind of acting, instead of when she was trying to betheatrical, he might have rated her chance higher.
When they had had a glorious gallop, however, she was in a state ofexhilaration that disposed her to think well of hastening the marriagewhich would make her life all of apiece with this splendid kind ofenjoyment. She would not debate any more about an act to which she hadcommitted herself; and she consented to fix the wedding on that day threeweeks, notwithstanding the difficulty of fulfilling the customary laws ofthe _trousseau_.
Lush, of course, was made aware of the engagement by abundant signs,without being formally told. But he expected some communication as aconsequence of it, and after a few days he became rather impatient underGrandcourt's silence, feeling sure that the change would affect hispersonal prospects, and wishing to know exactly how. His tactics no longerincluded any opposition--which he did not love for its own sake. He mighteasily cause Grandcourt a great deal of annoyance, but it would be to hisown injury, and to create annoyance was not a motive with him. MissGwendolen he would certainly not have been sorry to frustrate a little,but--after all there was no knowing what would come. It was nothing newthat Grandcourt should show a perverse wilfulness; yet in his freak aboutthis girl he struck Lush rather newly as something like a man who was_fey_--led on by an ominous fatality; and that one born to his fortuneshould make a worse business of his life than was necessary, seemed reallypitiable. Having protested against the marriage, Lush had a second-sightfor its evil consequences. Grandcourt had been taking the pains to writeletters and give orders himself instead of employing Lush, and appeared tobe ignoring his usefulness, even choosing, against the habit of years, tobreakfast alone in his dressing-room. But a _tete-à-tete_ was not to beavoided in a house empty of guests; and Lush hastened to use anopportunity of saying--it was one day after dinner, for there weredifficulties in Grandcourt's dining at Offendene--
"And when is the marriage to take place?"
Grandcourt, who drank little wine, had left the table and was lounging,while he smoked, in an easy chair near the hearth, where a fire of oakboughs was gaping to its glowing depths, and edging them with a delicatetint of ashes delightful to behold. The chair of red-brown velvet brocadewas a becoming back-ground for his pale-tinted, well-cut features andexquisite long hands. Omitting the cigar, you might have imagined him aportrait by Moroni, who would have rendered wonderfully the impenetrablegaze and air of distinction; and a portrait by that great master wouldhave been quite as lively a companion as Grandcourt was disposed to be.But he answered without unusual delay.