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DANIEL DERONDA.
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r^RAND-COURT AND GWENDOLEN IN THE PA RK. Photogravure. From drawing by Charles Co^eland.
The Complete Works
of
George Eliot
DANIEL DERONDA
VOLUME 1
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK AND LONDON
HARPER & BROTHERS
PUBLISHERS
C^.^)
TO MY DEAR HUSBAND
GEORGE HENRY LEWES.
*' Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Desiring this man^s art and that mun^s scope. With what I most enjoy contented hast; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee — and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remembered such loealth brings, Thai then I acoi^n to change my state with kings."
MC>\.3
Bxtrctcts from a letter written Oct. 29, 1876, to Mbs. Harriet Beecheb Stowe.
''As to the Jewish element in Deronda, I expected from first to last, in writing it, that it would create much stronger resistance and even repulsion than it has actually met with. But precisely because I felt that the usual attitude of Christians towards Jews is — I hardly know whether to say more impious or more stupid when viewed in the light of their professed principles, I therefore felt urged to treat Jews with such sympathy and understanding as my nature and knowledge could attain to. Moreover, not only towards the Jews, hut towards all Oriental peoples with whom we English come in contact, a spirit of arrogance and contemptuous dictatorialness is observable which has become a national disgrace to us. There is nothing I should care more to do, if it were possible, than to rouse the imagination of men and women to a vision of human claims in those races of their fellowmen who most differ from them in customs and beliefs. But towards the Hebrews we Western people who have been reared in Christianity have a peculiar debt, and whether we acknowledge it or not, a peculiar thoroughness of fellowship in religious and moral sentiment. Can any- thing be more disgusting than to hear people called * educated ' making small jokes about eating ham, and showing themselves empty of any real knowledge as to the relation of their own social and religious life to the history of the people they think themselves witty in insulting ? They hardly know that Christ was a Jew. And I find men, educated, supposing that Christ spoke Greek. To my feeling, this deadness to
the history which has prepared half our world for us, this inability to find interest in any form of life that is not clad in the same coat-tails and flounces as our own, lies very close to the worst kind of irreligion. The best that can be said of it is that it is a sign of the intellectual narrowness — in plain English, the stupidity — which is still the average mark of our culture. Yes, I expected more aversion than I have found. But I was happily independent in material things, and felt no temptation to accommodate my writing to any standard except that of trying to do my best in what seemed to me most needful to be done; and I sum up with the writer of the Book of Maccabees : * If I have done well and as befits the subject, it is what I desired; and if I have done ill, it is what I could attain unto.' "
CONTENTS.
BOOK PAGE
I. The Spoiled Child 1
11. Meeting Streams 141
III. Maidens Choosing 276
\
ILLUSTRATIONS
Vol. I. Grandcourt and Gwendolen in the Park {p. 177) Frontispiece
Gwendolen at the Gaming-Table Page 4
Grandcourt and Gwendolen at the Archery
Tournament 144
Deronda meets Mirah on the Banks of the Thames 254
DANIEL DEEONDA.
BOOK I.
THE SPOILED CHILD.
CHAPTER I.
" Men can do nothing without the make-believe of a beginning. Even Science, the strict measurer, is obliged to start with a make- believe unit, and must fix on a point in the stars' unceasing journey when his sidereal clock shall pretend that time is at Nought. His less accurate grandmother Poetry has always been understood to start in the middle ; but on reflection it appears that her proceeding is not very different from his ; since Science, too, reckons back- wards as well as forwards, divides his unit into billions, and with his clock -finger at Nought really sets off in medias res. No retro- spect will take us to the true beginning ; and whether our prologue be in heaven or on earth, it is but a fraction of that all-presuppos- ing fact with which our story sets out."
Was she beautiful or not beautiful ? and what was the secret of form or expression which gave the dynamic quality to her glance ? Was the good or the evil genius dominant in those beams ? Probably the evil ; else why was the effect that of unrest rather than of undisturbed charm ? Why was the wish to look again felt as coercion, and not as a longing in which the whole being consents ?
She who raised these questions in Daniel Deron- da's mind was occupied in gambling : not in the open air under a southern sky, tossing coppers on a
VOL. I. — 1
2 DANIEL DERONDA.
ruined wall, with rags about her limbs ; but in one of those splendid resorts which the enlightenment of ages has prepared for the same species of pleasure at a heavy cost of gilt mouldings, dark-toned colour, and chubby nudities, all correspondingly heavy, — forming a suitable condenser for human breath be- longing, in great part, to the highest fashion, and not easily procurable to be breathed in elsewhere in the like proportion, at least by persons of little fashion.
It was near four o'clock on a September day, so that the atmosphere was well brewed to a visible haze. There was deep stillness, broken only by a light rattle, a light chink, a small sweeping sound, and an occasional monotone in French, such as might be expected to issue from an ingeniously constructed automaton. Eound two long tables were gathered two serried crowds of human beings, all save one having their faces and attention bent on the tables. The one exception was a melan- choly little boy, with his knees and calves simply in their natural clothing of epidermis, but for the rest of his person in a fancy dress. He alone had his face turned towards the doorway, and fixing on it the blank gaze of a bedizened child stationed as a masquerading advertisement on the platform of an itinerant show, stood close behind a lady deeply engaged at the roulette-table.
About this table fifty or sixty persons were assembled, many in the outer rows, where there was occasionally a deposit of new-comers, being mere spectators, only that one of them, usually a woman, might now and then be observed putting down a five-franc piece with a simpering air, just to see what the passion of gambling really was. Those who were taking their pleasure at a higher strength,
THE SPOILED CHILD. 3
and were absorbed in play, showed very distant varieties of European type : Livonian and Spanish, Graeco-Italian and miscellaneous German, English aristocratic and English plebeian. Here certainly was a striking admission of human equality. The white bejewelled fingers of an English countess were very near touching a bony, yellow, crab-like hand stretch- ing a bared wrist to clutch a heap of coin, — a hand easy to sort with the square, gaunt face, deep-set eyes, grizzled eyebrows, and ill-combed scanty hair ■which seemed a slight metamorphosis of the vul- ture. And where else would her ladyship have gra- ciously consented to sit by that dry-lipped feminine figure prematurely old, withered after short bloom like her artificial flowers, holding a shabby velvet reticule before her, and occasionally putting in her mouth the point with which she pricked her card ? There too, very near the fair countess, was a re- spectable London tradesman, blond and soft-handed, his sleek hair scrupulously parted behind and before, conscious of circulars addressed to the nobility and gentry, whose distinguished patronage enabled him to take his holidays fashionably, and to a certain extent in their distinguished company. Not his the gambler's passion that nullifies appetite, but a well- fed leisure, which in the intervals of winning money in business and spending it showily, sees no better resource than winning money in play and spending it yet more showily, — reflecting always that Provi- dence had never manifested any disapprobation of his amusement, and dispassionate enough to leave off if the sweetness of winning much and seeing others lose had turned to the sourness of losing much and seeing others win. For the vice of gam- bling lay in losing money at it. In his bearing there might be something of the tradesman, but in.
4 DANIEL DEKONDA.
his pleasures he was fit tb rank with the owners of the oldest titles. Standing close to his chair was a handsome Italian, calm, statuesque, reaching across him to place the first pile of napoleons from a new bagful just brought him by an envoy with a scrolled mustache. The pile was in half a minute pushed over to an old bewigged woman with eyeglasses pinching her nose. There was a slight gleam, a faint mumbling smile about the lips of the old woman ; but the statuesque Italian remained impas- sive, and — probably secure in an infallible system which placed his foot on the neck of chance — im- mediately prepared a new pile. So did a man with the air of an emaciated beau or worn-out libertine, who looked at life through one eyeglass, and held out his hand tremulously when he asked for change. It could surely be no severity of system, but rather some dream of white crows, or the induction that the 8th of the month was lucky, which inspired the fierce yet tottering impulsiveness of his play.
But while every single player differed markedly from every other, there was a certain uniform nega- tiveness of expression which had the effect of a mask, — as if they had all eaten of some root that for the time compelled the brains of each to the same narrow monotony of action.
Deronda's first thought when his eyes fell on this scene of dull, gas-poisoned absorption was that the gambling of Spanish shepherd-boys had seemed to him more enviable, — so far Rousseau might be justified in maintaining that art and science had done a poor service to mankind. But; suddenly he felt the moment become dramatic. His attention was arrested by a young lady, who, standing at an angle not far from him, was the last to whom his eyes travelled. She was bending and speaking
c
THE SPOILED CHILD. 5
English to a middle-aged lady seated at play beside her; but the next instant she returned to her play, and showed the full height of a graceful figure, with a face which might possibly be looked at without admiration, but could hardly be passed with indifference.
The inward debate which she raised in Deronda gave to his eyes a growing expression of scrutiny, tending farther and farther away from the glow of mingled undefined sensibilities forming admiration. At one moment they followed the movements of the figure, of the arms and hands, as this proble- matic sylph bent forward to deposit her stake with an air of firm choice ; and the next they returned to the face, which, at present unaffected by be- holders, was directed steadily towards the game. The sylph was a winner ; and as her taper fingers, delicately gloved in pale-gray, were adjusting the coins which had been pushed towards her in order to pass them back again to the winning point, she looked round her with a survey too markedly cold and neutral not to have in it a little of that nature which we call art concealing an inward exultation.
But in the course of that survey her eyes met Deronda's, and instead of averting them as she would have desired to do, she was unpleasantly conscious that they were arrested — how long ? The darting sense that he was measuring her and looking down on her as an inferior, that he was of different quality from the human dross around her, that he felt himself in a region outside and above her, and was examining her as a specimen of a lower order, roused a tingling resentment which stretched the moment with conflict. It did not bring the blood to her cheeks, but sent it away from
6 DANIEL DERONDA.
her lips. She controlled herself by the help of an inward defiance, and without other sign of emotion than this lip-paleness, turned to her play. But Deronda's gaze seemed to have acted as an evil eye. Her stake was gone. No matter ; she had been winning ever since she took to roulette with a few napoleons at command, and had a considerable reserve. She had begun to believe in her luck, others had begun to believe in it: she had visions of being followed by a corUge who would worship her as a goddess of luck and watch her play as a directing augury. Such things had been known of male gamblers ; why should not a woman have a like supremacy ? Her friend and chaperon who had not wished her to play at first was beginning to approve, only administering the prudent advice to stop at the right moment and carry money back to England, — advice to which Gwendolen had replied that she cared for the excitement of play, not the winnings. On that supposition the pres- ent moment ought to have made the flood-tide in her eager experience of gambling. Yet when her next stake was swept away, she felt the orbits of her eyes getting hot, and the certainty she had (without looking) of that man still watching her, was something like a pressure which begins to be torturing : the more reason to her why she should not flinch, but go on playing as if she were indif- ferent to loss or gain. Her friend touched her elbow, and proposed that they should quit the table. For reply Gwendolen put ten louis on the same spot ; she was in that mood of defiance in which the mind loses sight of any end beyond the satisfaction of enraged resistance, and with the puerile stupidity of a dominant impulse includes
THE SPOILED CHILD. 7
luck among its objects of defiance. Since she was not winning strikingly, the next best thing was to lose strikingly. She controlled her muscles, and showed no tremor of mouth or hands. Each time her stake was swept off she doubled it. Many were now watching her ; but the sole observation she was conscious of was Deronda's, who, though she never looked towards him, she was sure had not moved away. Such a drama takes no long while to play out ; development and catastrophe can often be measured by nothing clumsier than the moment- hand. " Faites votre jeu, mesdames et messieurs," said the automatic voice of destiny from between the mustache and imperial of the croupier, and Gwendolen's arm was stretched to deposit her last poor heap of napoleons. " Le jeu ne va plus," said destiny. And in five seconds Gwendolen turned from the table, but turned resolutely with her face towards Deronda and looked at him. There was a smile of irony in his eyes as their glances met ; but it was at least better that he should have kept his attention fixed on her than that he should have disregarded her. as one of an insect swarm who had no individual physiognomy. Besides, in spite of his superciliousness and irony, it was difficult to believe that he did not admire her spirit as well as her person : he was young, handsome, distinguished in appearance, — not one of those ridiculous and dowdy Philistines who thought it incumbent on them to blight the gaming-table with a sour look of protest as they passed by it. The general con- viction that we are admirable does not easily give way before a single negative ; rather, when any of Vanity's large family, male or female, find their performance received coldly, they are apt to believe
8 DANIEL DERONDA.
that a little more of it will wiu over the unaccoun- table dissident. In Gwendolen's habits of mind it had been taken for granted that she knew what was admirable and that she herself was admired. This basis of her thinking had received a disagreeable concussion, and reeled a little, but was not easily to be overthrown.
In the evening the same room was more stiflingly heated, was brilliant with gas and with the costumes of many ladies who floated their trains along it or were seated on the ottomans.
The Nereid in sea-green robes and silver orna- ments, with a pale sea-green feather fastened in silver falling backward over her green hat and light-brown hair, was Gwendolen Harleth. She was under the wing, or rather soared by the shoulder, of the lady who had sat by her at the roulette-table ; and with them was a gentleman with a white mustache and clipped hair : solid-browed, stiff, and German. They were walking about or standing to chat with acquaintances ; and Gwen- dolen was much observed by the seated groups.
" A striking girl — that Miss Harleth — unlike others."
" Yes ; she has got herself up as a sort of serpent now, all green and silver, and winds her neck about a little more than usual."
" Oh, she must always be doing something extra- ordinary. She is that kind of girl, I fancy. Do you think her pretty, Mr. Vandernoodt ? "
"Very. A man might risk hanging for her, — I mean, a fool might."
" You like a nez retroussS then, and long narrow eyes ? "
" When they go with such an ensemble."
THE SPOILED CHILD. 9
" The ensemhle du serpe7it ? "
" If you will. Woman was tempted by a serpent: why not man ? "
" She is certainly very graceful. But she wants a tinge of colour in her cheeks : it is a sort of Lamia beauty she has."
" On the contrary, I think her complexion one of her chief charms. It is a warm paleness : it looks thoroughly healthy. And that delicate nose with its gradual little upward curve is distracting. And then her mouth, — there never was a prettier mouth, the lips curl backward so finely, eh, Mackworth ? "
" Think so ? I cannot endure that sort of mouth. It looks so self-complacent, as if it knew its own beauty, — the curves are too immovable. I like a mouth that trembles more."
" For my part I think her odious," said a dowager. "It is wonderful what unpleasant girls get into vogue. Who are these Langens ? Does anybody know them ? "
" They are quite co7nme il faut. I have dined with them several times at the Bussie. The baroness is English. Miss Harleth calls her cousin. The girl herself is thoroughly well-bred, and as clever as possible."
" Dear me ! And the baron ? "
" A very good furniture picture."
" Your baroness is always at the roulette-table," said Mackworth. " I fancy she has taught the girl to gamble."
" Oh, the old woman plays a very sober game ; drops a ten-franc piece here and there. The girl is more headlong. But it is only a freak."
" I hear she has lost all her winnings to-day. Are they rich ? Who knows ? "
10 DANIEL DERONDA.
" Ah, who knows ? who knows that about any- body ? " said Mr. Vandemoodt, moving off to join the Langens.
The remark that Gwendolen wound her neck about more than usual this evening was true. But it was not that she might carry out the serpent idea more completely : it was that she watched for any chance of seeing Deronda, so that she might inquire about this stranger, under whose measuring gaze she was still wincing. At last her opportunity came.
" Mr. Vandemoodt, you know everybody," said Gwendolen, not too eagerly, rather with a certain languor of utterance which she sometimes gave to her clear soprano. " Who is that near the door ? "
" There are half-a-dozen near the door. Do you mean that old Adonis in the George the Fourth wig?"
" No, no ; the dark-haired young man on the right with the dreadful expression."
" Dreadful, do you call it ? I think he is an uncommonly fine fellow."
" But who is he ? "
" He is lately come to our hotel with Sir Hugo Mallinger."
" Sir Hugo Mallinger?"
"Yes. Do you know him ?"
" No." (Gwendolen coloured slightly.) ** He has a place near us, but he never comes to it. What did you say was the name of that gentleman near the door ? "
" Deronda, — Mr. Deronda."
" What a delightful name 1 Is he an English- man?"
" Yes. He is reported to be rather closely related to the baronet. You are interested in him ? "
THE SPOILED CHILD. ii
"Yes. I think he is not like young men in general."
" And you don't admire young men in general ? "
" Not in the least. I always know what they will say. I can't at all guess what this Mr. Deronda would say. What does he say ? "
"Nothing, chiefly. I sat with his party for a good hour last night on the terrace, and he never spoke — and was not smoking either. He looked bored."
" Another reason why I should like to know him. I am always bored."
" I should think he would be charmed to have an introduction. Shall I bring it about ? Will you allow it, baroness ? "
"Why not? — since he is related to Sir Hugo Mallinger. It is a new rdle of yours, Gwendolen, to be always bored," continued Madame von Langen, when Mr. Vandernoodt had moved away. " Until now you have always seemed eager about something from morning till night."
" That is just because I am bored to death. If I am. to leave off play, I must break my arm or my collar-bone. I must make something happen ; un- less you will go into Switzerland and take me up the Matterhorn."
" Perhaps this Mr. Deronda's acquaintance will do instead of the Matterhorn."
"Perhaps."
But Gwendolen did not make Deronda's acquaint- ance on this occasion. Mr. Vandernoodt did not succeed in bringing him up to her that evening, and when she re-entered her own room she found a letter recalling her home.
CHAPTER IL
*• This man contrives a secret 'twixt us two, That he may quell me with his meetmg eyes Like one who quells a lioness at bay."
This was the letter Gwendolen found on her table : —
Dearest Child, — I have been expecting to hear from you for a week. In your last you said the Lan- gens thought of leaving Leubronn and going to Baden. How could you be so thoughtless as to leave ipe in uncertainty about your address? I am in the greatest anxiety lest this should not reach you. In any case you were to come home at the end of September, and I must now entreat you to return as quickly as possible, for if you spent all your money it would be out of my power to send j'ou any more, and you must not borrow of the Langens, for 1 could not repay them. This is the sad truth, my child — I wish I could prepare you for it better — but a dreadful calamity has befallen us all. You know nothing about business and will not under- stand it; but Grapnell & Co. have failed for a million and we are totally ruined — your aunt Gascoigne as well as I, only that your uncle has his benefice, so that by putting down their carriage and getting* interest for the boys, the family can go on. All the property our poor father saved for us goes to pay the liabilities. There is nothing I can call my own. It is better you should know this at once, though it rends my heart to have to tell it you. Of course we cannot help thinking what a pity it was that you went away just when you did. But I shall never reproach you, my dear child;
THE SPOILED CHILD. 13
I would sav6 you from all trouble if I could. On your way home you will have time to prepare yourself for the change you will find. We shall perhaps leave Offendene at once, for we hope that Mr. Haynes, who wanted it before, may be ready to take it off my hands. Of course we cannot go to the Rectory, — there is not a corner there to spare. We must get some hut or other to shelter us, and we must live on your uncle Gascoigne's charity, until I see what else can be done. I shall not be able to pay the debts to the tradesmen besides the servants' wages. Summon up your fortitude, my dear child; we must resign ourselves to God's will. But it is hard to resign one's self to Mr. Lassman's wicked recklessness, which they say was the cause of the fail- ure. Your poor sisters can only cry with me and give me no help. If you were once here, there might be a break in the cloud. T always feel it impossible that you can have been meant for poverty. If the Langens wish to remain abroad, perhaps you can put yourself under some one else's care for the journey. But come as soon as you can to your afflicted and loving mamma,
Fanny Davilow.
The first effect of this letter on Gwendolen was half stupefying. The implicit confidence that her destiny must be one of luxurious ease, where any trouble that occurred would be well clad and pro- vided for, had been stronger in her own mind than in her mamma's, being fed there by her youthful blood and that sense of superior claims which made a large part of her consciousness. It was almost as difficult for her to believe suddenly that her position had become one of poverty and humiliating depen- dence, as it would have been to get into the strong current of her blooming life the chill sense that her death would really come. She stood motionless for a few minutes, then tossed off her hat and automati-
14 DANIEL DERONDA.
cally looked in the glass. The coils of her smooth light-brown hair were still in order perfect enough for a ball-room ; and as on other nights, Gwendolen might have looked lingeringly at herself for pleasure (surely an allowable indulgence) ; but now she took no conscious note of her reflected beauty, and simply stared right before her as if she had been jarred by a hateful sound and was waiting for any sign of its cause. By and by she threw herself in the corner of the red velvet sofa, took up the letter again and read it twice deliberately, letting it at last fall on the ground, while she rested her clasped hands on her lap and sat perfectly still, shedding no tears. Her impulse was to survey and resist the situation rather than to wail over it. There was no inward exclamation of " Poor mamma ! " Her mamma had never seemed to get much enjoyment out of life ; and if Gwendolen had been at this moment disposed to feel pity, she would have bestowed it on herself, — for was she not naturally and rightfully the chief object of her mamma's anxiety too ? But it was anger, it was resistance, that possessed her ; it was bitter vexation that she had lost her gains at roulette, whereas if her luck had continued through this one day she would have had a handsome sum to carry home, or she might have gone on playing and won enough to support them all. Even now was it not possible ? She had only four napoleons left in her purse, but she possessed some ornaments which she could sell, — a practice so common in stylish society at German baths that there was no need to be ashamed of it ; and even if she had not received her mamma's letter, she would probably have decided to get money for an Etruscan necklace which she hap- pened not to have been wearing since her arrival ',
THE SPOILED CHILD. 15
nay, she might have done so with an agreeable sense that she was living with some intensity and escap- ing humdrum. With ten louis at her disposal and a return of her former luck, which seemed probable, what could she do better than go on playing for a few days ? If her friends at home disapproved of the way in which she got the money, as they cer- tainly would, still the money would be there. Gwendolen's imagination dwelt on this course and created agreeable consequences, but not with unbro- ken confidence and rising certainty, as it would have done if she had been touched with the gambler's mania. She had gone to the roulette-table not because of passion, but in search of it: her mind was still sanely capable of picturing balanced proba- bilities, an^ while the chance of winning allured her, the chance of losing thrust itself on her with alternate strength, and made a vision from which her pride shrank sensitively. For she was resolved not to tell the Langens that any misfortune had befallen her family, or to make herself in any way indebted to their compassion ; and if she were to part with her jewelry to any observable extent, they would interfere by inquiries and remonstrances. The course that held the least risk of intolerable annoyance was to raise money on her necklace early in the morning, tell the Langens that her mamma desired her immediate return without giving a reason, and take the train for ^ Brussels that evening. She had no maid with her, and the Langens might make difficulties about her returning alone, but her will was peremptory.
Instead of going to bed she made as brilliant a light as she could and began to pack, working diU- ijently, though all the while visited by the scenes
i6 DANIEL DERONDA.
that might take place on the coming day, — now by the tiresome explanations and farewells and the whirling journey towards a changed home, now by the alternative of staying just another day and standing again at the roulette-table. But always in this latter scene there was the presence of that Deronda, watching her with exasperating irony, and — the two keen experiences were inevitably revived together — beholding her again forsaken by luck. This importunate image certainly helped to sway her resolve on the side of immediate departure, and to urge her packing to the point which would make a change of mind inconvenient. It had struck twelve when she came into her room, and by the time she was assuring herself that she had left out only what was necessary, the faint dawn was stealing through the white blinds and dulling her candles. What was the use of going to bed? Her cold bath was refreshment enough, and she saw that a slight trace of fatigue about the eyes only made her look the more interesting. Before six o'clock she was completely equipped in her gray travelling dress even to her felt hat, for she meant to walk out as soon as she could count on seeing other ladies on their way to the springs. And happening to be seated sideways before the long strip of mirror between her two windows, she turned to look at herself, leaning her elbow on the back of the chair in an attitude that might have been chosen for her portrait. It is possible to have a strong self-love without any self-satisfaction, rather with a self-discontent which is the more intense because one's own little core of egoistic sensibility is a supreme care ; but Gwendolen knew nothing of such inward strife. She had a naive delight in
THE SPOILED CHILD. 17
her fortunate self, which any but the harshest saintliness will have some indulgence for in a girl who had every day seen a pleasant reflection of that self in her friends' flattery as well as in the looking-glass. And even in this beginning of troubles, while for lack of anything else to do she sat gazing at her image in the growing light, her face gathered a complacency gradual as the cheerfulness of the morning. Her beautiful lips curled into a more and more decided smile, till at last she took off her hat, leaned forward and kissed the cold glass which had looked so warm. How could she believe in sorrow? If it attacked her, she felt the force to crush it, to defy it, or run away from it, as she had done already. Anything seemed more possible than that she could go on bearing miseries, great or small.
Madame von Langen never went out before break- fast, so that Gwendolen could safely end her early walk by taking her way homeward through the Obere Strasse in which was the needed shop, sure to be open after seven. At that hour any observers whom she minded would be either on their walks in the region of the springs, or would be still in their bedrooms ; but certainly there was one grand hotel, the Czarina, from which eyes might follow her up to Mr. Wiener's door. This was a chance to be risked : might she not be going in to buy something which had struck her fancy ? This implicit falsehood passed through her mind as she remembered that the Czarina was Deronda's hotel ; but she was then already far up the Obere Strasse, and she walked on with her usual floating movement, every line in her figure and drapery falling in gentle curves, attractive to all eyes except those wliich discerned
VOL. I. — 2
I8 DANIEL DERONDA.
in them too close a resemblance to the serpent, and objected to the revival of serpent-worship. She looked neither to the right hand nor to the left, and transacted her business in the shop with a coolness which gave little Mr, Wiener nothing to remark except her proud grace of manner, and the superior size and quality of the three central turquoises in the necklace she offered him. They had belonged to a chain once her father's ; but she had never known her father, and the necklace was in all respects the ornament she could most conven- iently part with. Who supposes that it is an impossible contradiction to be superstitious and rationalizing at the same time? Roulette encour- ages a romantic superstition as to the chances of the game, and the most prosaic rationalism as to human sentiments which stand in the way of raising need- ful money. Gwendolen's dominant regret was that after all she had only nine louis to add to the four in her purse : these Jew dealers were so unscrupu- lous in taking advantage of Christians unfortunate at play ! But she was the Langens' guest in their hired apartment, and had nothing to pay there; thirteen louis would do more than take her l|ome ; even if she determined on risking three, the remain- ing ten would more than suffice, since she meant to travel right on, day and night. As she turned homewards, nay, entered and seated herself in the salon to await her friends and breakfast, she still wavered as to her immediate departure, or rather she had concluded to tell the Langens simply that she had had a letter from her mamma desiring her return, and to leave it still undecided when she should start. It was already the usual breakfast- time, and hearing some one enter as she was lean-
THE SPOILED CHILD. 19
ing back rather tired and hungry with her eyes shut, she rose expecting to see one or other of the Langens, — the words which might determine her lingering at least another day ready formed to pass her lips. But it was the servant bringing in a small packet for Miss Harleth, which had that moment been left at the door. Gwendolen took it in her hand and immediately hurried into her own room. She looked paler and more agitated than when she had first read her mamma's letter. Something — she never quite knew what — revealed to her before she opened the packet that it contained the necklace she had just parted with. Underneath the paper it was wrapt in a cambric handkerchief, and within this was a scrap of torn-off note-paper, on which was written with a pencil in clear but rapid handwriting : "A stranger who has found Miss Harleth's necklace returns it to her with the hope that she will not again risk the loss of it."
Gwendolen reddened with the vexation of wounded pride. A large corner of the handkerchief seemed to have been recklessly torn off to get rid of a mark ; but she at once believed in the first image of " the stranger " that presented itself to her mind. It was Deronda ; he must have seen her go into the shop ; he must have gone in immediately after, and re- purchased the necklace. He had taken an unpar- donable liberty, and had dared to place her in a thoroughly hateful position. What could she do ? — Not, assuredly, act on her conviction that it was he who had sent her the necklace and straightway send it back to him : that would be to face the possibility that she had been mistaken ; nay, even if the " stranger " were he and no other, it would be some- thing too gross for her to let him know that she
20 DANIEL DERONDA.
had divined this, and to meet him again with that recognition in their minds. He knew very well that he was entangling her in helpless humiliation : it was another way of smiling at her ironically, and taking the air of a supercilious mentor. Gwendolen felt the bitter tears of mortification rising and rolling down her cheeks. No one had ever before dared to treat her with irony and contempt. One thing was clear: she must carry out her resolution to quit this place at once ; it was impossible for her to reappear in the public salon, still less stand at the gaming-table with the risk of seeing Deronda. Now came an impor- tunate knock at the door: breakfast was ready. Gwendolen with a passionate movement thrust neck- lace, cambric, scrap of paper, and all into her n^ces- saire, pressed her handkerchief against her face, and after pausing a minute or two to summon back her proud self-control, went to join her friends. Such signs of tears and fatigue as were left seemed accor- dant enough with the account she at once gave of her having been called home, for some reason which she feared might be a trouble of her mamma's ; and of her having sat up to do her packing, instead of waiting for help from her friend's maid. There was much protestation, as she had expected, against her travelling alone, but she persisted in refusing any arrangements for companionship. She would be put into the ladies' compartment and go right on. She could rest exceedingly well in the train, and was afraid of nothing.
In this way it happened that Gwendolen never reappeared at the roulette-table, but that Thursday evening left Leubronn for Brussels, and on Saturday morning arrived at Offendene, the home to which she and her family were soon to say a last go.od-by.
CHAPTEE HI.
Let no flower of the spring pass by us : let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they be withered. — Book of Wisdom.
Pity that Offendene was not the home of Miss Harleth's childhood, or endeared to her by family memories ! A human life, I think, should be well rooted in some spot of a native land, where it may get the love of tender kinship for the face of earth, for the labours men go forth to, for the sounds and accents that haunt it, for whatever will give that early home a familiar unmistakable difference amidst the future widening of knowledge : a spot where the definiteness of early memories may be inwrought with affection, and kindly acquaintance with all neighbours, even to the dogs and donkeys, may spread not by sentimental effort and reflection, but as a sweet habit of the blood. At five years old, mortals are not prepared to be citizens of the world, to be stimulated by abstract nouns, to soar above preference into impartiality ; and that prejudice in favour of milk with which we blindly begin, is a type of the way body and soul must get nourished at least for a time. The best introduction to astron- omy is to think of the nightly heavens as a little lot of stars belonging to one's own homestead.
But this blessed persistence in which affection can take root had been wanting in Gwendolen's life. It was only a year before her recall from Leubronn that Offendene had been chosen as her
ai DANIEL DERONDA.
mamma's home, simply for its nearness to Pennicote Rectory, and that Mrs. Davilow, Gwendolen, and her four half-sisters (the governess and the maid following in another vehicle) had been driven along the avenue for the first time, on a late October afternoon when the rooks were cawing loudly above them, and the yellow elm-leaves were whirling.
The season suited the aspect of the old oblong red brick house, rather too anxiously ornamented with stone at every line, not excepting the double row of narrow windows and the large square portico. The stone encouraged a greenish lichen, the brick a powdery gray, so that though the building was rigidly rectangular there was no harshness in the physiognomy which it turned to the three avenues cut east, west, and south in the hundred yards' breadth of old plantation encircling the immediate grounds. One would have liked the house to have been lifted on a knoll, so as to look beyond its own little domain to the long thatched roofs of the distant villages, the church towers, the scattered homesteads, the gradual rise of surging woods, and the green breadths of undulating park which made the beautiful face of the earth in that part of Wes- sex. But though standing thus behind a screen amid flat pastures, it had on one side a glimpse of the wider world in the lofty curves of the chalk downs, grand steadfast forms played over by the changing days.
The house was but just large enough to be called a mansion, and was moderately rented, having no manor attached to it, and being rather difficult to let with its sombre furniture and faded upholstery. But inside and outside it was what no beholder could suppose to be inhabited by retired tradespeople :
THE SPOILED CHILD. 23
a certainty which was worth many conveniences to tenants who not only had the taste that shrinks from new finery, but also were in that border- territory of rank where annexation is a burning topic ; and to take up her abode in a house which had once sufficed for dowager countesses gave a perceptible tinge to Mrs. Davilow's satisfaction in having an establishment of her own. This, rather mysteriously to Gwendolen, appeared suddenly possi- ble on the death of her step-father Captain Davilow, who had for the last nine years joined his family only in a brief and fitful manner, enough to reconcile them to his long absences; but she cared much more for the fact than for the explanation. All her prospects had become more agreeable in consequence. She had disliked their former way of life, roving from one foreign watering-place or Parisian apart- ment to another, always feeling new antipathies to new suites of hired furniture, and meeting new people under conditions which made her appear of little importance ; and the variation of having passed two years at a showy school, where on all occasions of display she had been put foremost, had only deepened her sense that so exceptional a person as herself could hardly remain in ordinary circum- stances or in a social position less than advantageous. Any fear of this latter evil was banished now that her mamma was to have an establishment ; for on the point of birth Gwendolen was quite easy. She had no notion how her maternal grandfather got the fortune inherited by his two daughters ; but he had been a West Indian — which seemed to exclude further question; and she knew that her father's family was so high as to take no notice of her mamma, who nevertheless preserved with much.
24 DANIEL DERONDA.
pride the miniature of a Lady Molly in that connec- tion. She would probably have known much more about her father but for a little incident which happened when she was twelve years old. Mrs. Davilow had brought out, as she did only at wide intervals, various memorials of her first husband, and while showing his miniature to Gwendolen recalled, with a fervour which seemed to count on a peculiar filial sympathy, the fact that dear papa had died when his little daughter was in long clothes. Gwendolen, immediately thinking of the unlovable step-father whom she had been acquainted with the greater part of her life while her frocks were short, said, —
" Why did you marry again, mamma ? It would have been nicer if you had not."
Mrs. Davilow coloured deeply, a slight convulsive movement passed over her face, and straightway shutting up the memorials, she said, with a violence quite unusual in her, —
" You have no feeling, child ! "
Gwendolen, who was fond of her mamma, felt hurt and ashamed, and had never since dared to ask a question about her father.
This was not the only instance in which she had brought on herself the pain of some filial compunc- tion. It was always arranged, when possible, that she should have a small bed in lier mamma's room ; for Mrs. Davilow's motherly tenderness clung chiefly to her eldest girl, who had been born in her happier time. One night under an attack of pain she found that the specific regularly placed by her bedside had been forgotten, and begged Gwendolen to get out of bed and reach it for her. That healthy young lady, snug and warm as a rosy infant in her
THE SPOILED CHILD. 2$
little couch, objected to step out into the cold, and lying perfectly still, grumbled a refusal. Mrs. Davilow went without the medicine, and never reproached her daughter-, but the next day Gwen- dolen was keenly conscious of what must be in her mamma's mind, and tried to make amends by caresses which cost her no effort. Having always been the pet and pride of the household, waited on by mother, sisters, governess, and maids, as if she had been a princess in exile, she naturally found it difficult to think her own pleasure less important than others made it, and when it was positively thwarted felt an astonished resentment apt, in her cruder days, to vent itself in one of those passion- ate acts which look like a contradiction of habitual tendencies. Though never even as a child thought- lessly cruel, nay, delighting to rescue drowning insects and watch their recovery, there was a dis- agreeable silent remembrance of her having strangled her sister's canary-bird in a final fit of exasperation at its shrill singing which had again and again jar- ringly interrupted her own. She had taken pains to buy a white mouse for her sister in retribution, and though inwardly excusing herself on the ground of a peculiar sensitiveness which was a mark of her general superiority, the thought of that infelonious murder had always made her wince. Gwendolen's nature was not remorseless, but she liked to make her penances easy, and now that she was twenty and more, some of her native force had turned into a self-control by which she guarded herself from penitential humiliation. There was more show of fire and will in her than ever, but there was more calculation underneath it.
On this day of arrival at Offendene, which not
26 DANIEL DERONDA.
even Mrs. Davilow had seen before, — the place having been taken for her by her brother-in-law Mr. Gascoigne, — when all had got down from the car- riage, and were standing under the porch in front of the open door, so that they could have both a general view of the place and a glimpse of the stone hall and staircase hung with sombre pictures, but enlivened by a bright wood fire, no one spoke : mamma, the four sisters, and the governess all looked at Gwendolen, as if their feelings depended entirely on her decision. Of the girls, from Alice in her sixteenth year to Isabel in her tenth, hardly anything could be said on a first view, but that they were girlish, and that their black dresses were get- ting shabby. Miss Merry was elderly, and altogether neutral in expression. Mrs. Davilow's worn beauty seemed the more pathetic for the look of entire appeal which she cast at Gwendolen, who was glancing round at the house, the landscape, and the entrance-hall with an air of rapid judgment. Imagine a young race-horse in the paddock among untrimmed ponies and patient hacks.
" Well, dear, what do you think of the place ? " said Mrs. Davilow at last, in a gentle deprecatory tone.
" I think it is charming," said Gwendolen, quickly. " A romantic place ; anything delightful may happen in it ; it would be a good background for anything. No one need be ashamed of living here."
" There is certainly nothing common about it."
" Oh, it would do for fallen royalty or any sort of grand poverty. We ought properly to have been liv- ing in splendour, and have come down to this. It would have been as romantic as could be. But I thought my uncle and aunt Gascoigne would be here
THE SPOILED CHILD. 27
to meet us, and my cousin Anna," added Gwendolen, her tone changed to sharp surprise.
"We are early," said Mrs. Davilow ; and entering the hall, she said to the housekeeper, who came forward, " You expect Mr. and Mrs. Gascoigne ? "
" Yes, madam : they were here yesterday to give particular orders about the fires and the dinner. But as to fires, I 've had 'em in all the rooms for the last week, and everything is well aired. I could wish some of the furniture paid better for all the cleaning it 's had, but I think you '11 see the brasses have been done justice to. I think, when Mr. and Mrs. Gascoigne come, they '11 tell you noth- ing 's been neglected. They '11 be here at five, fof certain."
This satisfied Gwendolen, who was not prepared to have their arrival treated with indifference-; and after tripping a little way up the matted stone stair- case to take a survey there, she tripped down again, and followed by all the girls looked into each of the rooms opening from the hall, — the dining- room all dark oak and worn red satin damask, with a copy of snarling, worrying dogs from Snyders over the sideboard, and a Christ breaking bread over the mantelpiece ; the library with a general aspect and smell of old brown leather; and lastly, the drawing room, which was entered through a small antechamber crowded with venerable knick-knacks.
" Mamma, mamma, pray come here ! " said Gwen- dolen, Mrs. Davilow having followed slowly in talk with the housekeeper. " Here is an organ. I will be Saint Cecilia : some one shall paint me as Saint Cecilia. Jocosa (this was her name for Miss Merry), let down my hair. See, mamma!"
She had thrown off her hat and gloves, and seated
28 DANIEL DEHONDA.
herself before the organ in an admirable pose, loot- ing upward ; while the submissive and sad Jocosa took out the one comb which fastened the coil of hair, and then shook out the mass till it fell in a smooth light-brown stream far below its owner's slim waist.
Mrs. Davilow smiled and said, " A charming pic- ture, my dear ! " not indifferent to the display of her pet, even in the presence of a housekeeper. Gwendolen rose and laughed with delight All this seemed quite to the purpose on entering a new house which was so excellent a background.
" What a queer, quaint, picturesque room ! " she went on, looking about her. "I like these old embroidered chairs, and the garlands on the wains- cot, and the pictures that may be anything. That one with the ribs — nothing but ribs and darkness — I should think that is Spanish, mamma."
" Oh, Gwendolen ! " said the small Isabel, in a tone of astonishment, while she held open a hinged panel of the wainscot at the other end of the room.
Every one, Gwendolen first, went to look. The opened panel had disclosed the picture of an upturned dead face, from which an obscure figure seemed to be fleeing with outstretched arms. " How horri- ble I " said Mrs. Davilow, with a look of mere disgust ; but Gwendolen shuddered silently, and Isabel, a plain and altogether inconvenient child with an alarming memory, said, —
"You will never stay in this room by yourself, Gwendolen."
" How dare you open things which were meant to be shut up, you perverse little creature ? " said Gwendolen, in her angriest tone. Then snatching the panel out of the hand of the culprit, she closed
THE SPOILED CHILD. 29
it hastily, saying, " There is a lock, — where is the key ? Let the key be found, or else let one be made, and let nobody open it again ; or rather, let the key be brought to me."
At this command to everybody in general Gwen- dolen turned with a face which was flushed in reaction from her chill shudder, and said, " Let us go up to our own room, mamma."
The housekeeper on searching found the key in the drawer of a cabinet close by the panel, and pres- ently handed it to Bugle, the lady's maid, telling her significantly to give it to her Royal Highness.
" I don't know who you mean, Mrs. Startin," said Bugle, who had been busy upstairs during the scene in the drawing-room, and was rather offended at this irony in a new servant.
"I mean the young lady that's to command us all — and well worthy for looks and figure," replied Mrs. Startin, in propitiation. " She '11 know what key it is."
" If you have laid out what we want, go and see to the others, Bugle," Gwendolen had said, when she and Mrs. Davilow entered their black and yellow bedroom, where a pretty little white couch was prepared by the side of the black and yellow catafalque known as " the best bed." " I will help mamma."
But her first movement was to go to the tall mirror between the windows, which reflected her- self and the room completely, while her mamma sat down and also looked at the reflection.
" That is a becoming glass, Gwendolen ; or is it the black and gold colour that sets you off ? " said Mrs. Davilow, as Gwendolen stood obliquely with her three-quarter face turned towards the mirros
30 DANIEL DERONDA.
and her left hand brushing back the stream of hair.
" I should make a tolerable Saint Cecilia with some white roses on my head," said Gwendolen, — "only, how about my nose, mamma? I think saints' noses never in the least turn up. I wish you had given me your perfectly straight nose ; it would have done for any sort of character, — a nose of all work. Mine is only a happy nose ; it would not do so well for tragedy."
" Oh, my dear, any nose will do to be miserable with in this world," said Mrs. Davilow, with a deep, weary sigh, throwing her black bonnet on the table, and resting her elbow near it.
" Now, mamma," said Gwendolen, in a strongly remonstrant tone, turning away from the glass with an air of vexation, "don't begin to be dull here. It spoils all my pleasure, and everything may be so happy now. What have you to be gloomy about now ? "
"Nothing, dear," said Mrs. Davilow, seeming to rouse herself, and beginning to take off her dress. "It is always enough for me to see you happy."
" But you should be happy yourself," said Gwen- dolen, still discontentedly, though going to help her mamma with caressing touches. " Can nobody be happy after they are quite yoimg? You have made me feel sometimes as if nothing were of any use. With the girls so troublesome, and Jocosa so dreadfully wooden and ugly, and every- thing makeshift about us, and you looking so dull, — what was the use of my being anything? But now you miffht be happy."
" So I shall, dear," said Mrs. Davilow, patting the cheek that was bending near her.
THE SPOILED CHILD. 31
"Yes, but really. Not with a sort of make- believe," said Gwendolen, with resolute persever- ance. " See what a hand and arm ! — much more beautiful than mine. Any one can see you were altogether more beautiful."
" No, no, dear ; I was always heavier. Never half so charming as you are."
" Well, but what is the use of my being charming, if it is to end in my being dull and not minding anything ? Is that what marriage always comes to ? "
" No, child, certainly not. Marriage is the only happy state for a woman, as I trust you will prove."
" I will not put up with it if it is not a happy state. I am determined to be happy, — at least, not to go on muddling away my life as other people do, being and doing nothing remarkable. I have made up my mind not to let other people interfere with me as they have done. Here is some warm water ready for you, mamma," Gwendolen ended, proceeding to take off her own dress and then wait- ing to have her hair wound up by her mamma.
There was silence for a minute or two, till Mrs. Davilow said, while coiling the daughter's hair, " I am sure I have never crossed you, Gwendolen."
" You often want me to do what I don't like."
" You mean, to give Alice lessons ? "
" Yes. And I have done it because you asked me. But I don't see why I should, else. It bores me to death, she is so slow. She has no ear for music, or language, or anything else. It would be much better for her to be ignorant, mamma: it is her role, she would do it well."
" That is a hard thing to say of your poor sister, Gwendolen, who is so good to you, and waits on you hand and foot."
32 DANIEL DERONDA.
" I don't see why it is liard to call things by their right names, and put them in their proper places. The hardship is for me to have to waste my time on her. Now let me fasten up your hair, mamma."
" We must make haste ; your uncle and aunt will be here soon. For heaven's sake, don't be scornful to theniy my dear child ! or to your cousin Anna, whom you will always be going out with. Do promise me, Gwendolen. You know, you can't expect Anna to be equal to you."
" I don't want her to be equal," said Gwendolen, n with a toss of her head and a smile ; and the dis- cussion ended there.
When Mr. and Mrs. Gascoigne and their daughter came, Gwendolen, far from being scornful, behaved as prettily as possible to them. She was introduc- ing herself anew to relatives who had not seen her since the comparatively unfinished age of sixteen, and she was anxious — no, not anxious, but resolved, — that they should admire her.
Mrs. Gascoigne bore a family likeness to her sister ; but she was darker and slighter, her face was unworn by grief, her movements were less languid, her expression more alert and critical as that of a rector's wife bound to exert a beneficent authority. Their closest resemblance lay in a non- resistant disposition, inclined to imitation and obedience ; but this, owing to the difference in their circumstances, had led them to very differ- ent issues. The younger sister had been indiscreet, or, at least, unfortunate in her marriages; the elder believed herself the most enviable of wives, and her pliancy had ended in her sometimes taking shapes of surprising definiteness. Many of her opinions, such as those on church government and
THE SPOILED CHILD. 33
the character of Archbishop Laud, seemed too decided under every alteration to have been arrived at otherwise than by a wifely receptiveness. And there was much to encourage trust in her husband's authority. He had some agreeable virtues, some striking advantages; and the failings that were imputed to him all leaned towards the side of success.
One of his advantages was a fine person, which perhaps was even more impressive at fifty-seven than it had been earlier in life. There were no distinctively clerical lines in the face, no official reserve or ostentatious benignity of expression, no tricks of starchiness or of affected ease: in his Inverness cape he could not have been identified except as a gentleman with handsome dark features, a nose which began with an intention to be aquiline but suddenly became straight, and iron-gray hair. Perhaps he owed this freedom from the sort of professional make-up which penetrates skin tones and gestures and defies all drapery, to the fact that he had once been Captain Gaskin, having taken orders and a diphthong but shortly before his engagement to Miss Armyn. If any one had objected that his preparation for the clerical func- tion was inadequate, his friends might have asked who made a better figure in it, who preached better or had more authority in his parish ? He had a native gift for administration, being tolerant both of opinions and conduct, because he felt himself able to overrule them, and was free from the irritations of conscious feebleness. He smiled pleasantly at the foible of a taste which he did not share, — at floriculture or antiquarianism, for example, which were much in vogue among his VOL. I. — 3
34 DANIEL DERONDA.
fellow-clergymen in the diocese: for himself, he preferred following the history of a campaign, or divining from his knowledge of Nesselrode's motives what would have been his conduct if our cabinet had taken a different course. Mr. Gascoigne's tone of thinking after some long-quieted fluctuations had become ecclesiastical rather than theological; not the modern Anglican, but what he would have called sound English, free from nonsense : such as became a man who looked at a national religion by daylight, and saw it in its relations to other things. No clerical magistrate had greater weight at sessions, or less of mischievous impracticableness in relation to worldly affairs. Indeed, the worst imputation thrown out against him was worldli- ness: it could not be proved that he forsook the less fortunate, but it was not to be denied that the friendships he cultivated were of a kind likely to be useful to the father of six sons and two daughters ; and bitter observers — for in Wessex, say ten years ago, there were persons whose bitter- ness may now seem incredible — remarked that the colour of his opinions had changed in consistency with this principle of action. But cheerful, success- ful worldliness has a false air of being more selfish than the acrid, unsuccessful kind, whose secret history is summed up in the terrible words, "Sold, but not paid for."
Gwendolen wondered that she had not better remembered how very fine a man her uncle was ; but at the age of sixteen she was a less capable and more indifferent judge. At present it was a matter of extreme interest to her that slie was to have the near countenance of a dignified male relative, and that the family life would cease to be entirely, in-
THE SPOILED CHILD. 35
sipidly feminine. She did not intend that her uncle should control her, but she saw at once that it would be altogether agreeable to her that he should be proud of introducing her as his niece. And there was every sign of his being likely to feel that pride. He certainly looked at her with admiration as he said, —
"You have outgrown Anna, my dear," putting his arm tenderly round his daughter, whose shy face was a tiny copy of his own, and drawing her forward. " She is not so old as you by a year, but her growing days are certainly over. I hope you will be excellent companions."
He did give a comparing glance at his daugh- ter, but if he saw her inferiority, he might also see that Anna's timid appearance and miniature figure must appeal to a different taste from that which was attracted by Gwendolen, and that the girls could hardly be rivals. Gwendolen, at least, was aware of this, and kissed her cousin with real cor- diality as well as grace, saying : " A companion is just what I want. I am so glad we are come to live here. And mamma will be much happier now she is near you, aunt."
The aunt trusted indeed that it would be so, and felt it a blessing that a suitable home had been vacant in their uncle's parish. Then, of course, notice had to be taken of the four other girls, whom Gwendolen had always felt to be superfluous : all of a girlish average that made four units utterly unimportant, and yet from her earliest days an ob- trusive influential fact in her life. She was con- scious of having been much kinder to them than could have been expected. And it was evident to her that her uncle and aunt also felt it a pity there
36 DANIEL DERONDA.
were so many girls, — what rational person could feel otherwise, except poor mamma, who never would see how Alice set up her shoulders and lifted her eyebrows till she had no forehead left, how Bertha and Fanny whispered and tittered together about everything, or how Isabel was always listening and staring and forgetting where she was, and treading on the toes of her suffering elders ?
"You have brothers, Anna," said Gwendolen, while the sisters were being noticed. " I think you are enviable there."
" Yes," said Anna, simply. " I am very fond of them ; but of course their education is a great anxi- ety to papa. He used to say they made me a tom- boy. I really was a great romp with Rex. I think you will like Hex. He will come home before Christmas."
" I "remember I used to think you rather wild and shy ; but it is difficult now to imagine you a romp," said Gwendolen, smiling.
" Of course I am altered now ; I am come out, and all that. But in reality I like to go blackberry- ing with Edwy and Lotta as well as ever. I am not very fond of going out ; but I dare say I shall like it better now you will be often with me. I am not at all clever, and I never know what to say. It seems so useless to say what everybody knows, and I can think of nothing else, except what papa says."
" I shall like going out with you very much," said Gwendolen, well disposed towards this naive cousin. " Are you fond of riding ? "
"Yes, but we have only one Shetland pony amongst us. Papa says he can't afford more, be- sides the carriage-horses and his own nag ; he has 60 many expenses."
THE SPOILED CHILD. 37
"I intend to have a horse and ride a great deal now," said Gwendolen, in a tone of decision, " Is the society pleasant in this neighbourhood ? "
" Papa says it is, very. There are the clergymen all about, you know ; and the Quallons, and the Arrowpoints, and Lord Bracken shaw, and Sir Hugo Mallinger's place, where there is nobody — that's very nice, because we make picnics there — and two or three families at Wanchester; oh, and old Mrs. Vulcany at Nuttingwood, and — "
But Anna was relieved of this tax on her descrip- tive powers by the announcement of dinner, and Gwendolen's question was soon indirectly answered by her uncle, who dwelt much on the advantages he had secured for them in getting a place like Ofifendene. Except the rent it involved no more expense than an ordinary house at Wanchester would have done.
" And it is always worth while to make a little sacrifice for a good style of house," said Mr. Gas- coigne, in his easy, pleasantly confident tone, which made the world in general seem a very manageable place of residence ; " especially where there is only a lady at the head. All the best people will call upon you ; and you need give no expensive dinners. Of course I have to spend a good deal in that way ; it is a large item. But then I get my house for nothing. If I had to pay three hundred a-year for my house I could not keep a table. My boys are too great a drain on me. You are better ofif than we are, in proportion ; there is no great drain on you now, after your house and carriage."
" I assure you, Fanny, now the children are grow- ing up, I am obliged to cut and contrive," said Mrs. Gascoigne. " I am not a good manager by nature,
38 DANIEL DERONDA.
but Henry has taught me. He is wonderful for making the best of everything ; he allows himself no extras, and gets his curates for nothing. It is rather hard that he has not been made a prebendary or something, as others have been, considering the friends he has made, and the need there is for men of moderate opinions in all respects. If the Church is to keep its position, ability and character ought to tell."
" Oh, my dear Nancy, you forget the old story, — thank Heaven, there are three hundred as good as I. And ultimately we shall have no reason to com- plain, I am pretty sure. There could hardly be a more thorough friend than Lord Brackenshaw, — your landlord, you know, Fanny. Lady Bracken- shaw will call upon you. And I have spoken for Gwendolen to be a member of our Archery Club, — the Brackenshaw Archery Club, — the most select thing anywhere. That is, if she has no objection," added Mr, Gascoigne, looking at Gwendolen with pleasant irony.
" I should like it, of all things," said Gwendolen. " There is nothing I enjoy more than taking aim — and hitting," she ended, with a pretty nod and smile.
"Our Anna, poor child, is too short-sighted for archery. But I consider myself a first-rate shot, and you shall practise with me. I must make you an accomplished archer before our great meeting in July. In fact, as to neighbourhood, you could hardly be better placed. There are the Arrowpoints, — they are some of our best people. Miss Arrow- point is a delightful girl, — she has been presented at Court. They have a magnificent place, — Quetcham Hall, — worth seeing in point of art ; and their par- ties, to which you are sure to be invited, are the
THE SPOILED CHILD. 39
best things of the sort we have. The archdeacon is intimate there, and they have always a good kind of people staying in the house. Mrs. Arrowpoint is peculiar, certainly, — something of a caricature, in fact, — but well-meaning. And Miss Arrowpoint is as nice as possible. It is not all young ladies who have mothers as handsome and graceful as yours and Anna's."
Mrs. Davilow smiled faintly at this little com- pliment ; but the husband and wife looked affection- ately at each other, and Gwendolen thought, "My uncle and aunt, at least, are happy : they are not dull and dismal." Altogether she felt satisfied with her prospects at Offendene, as a great improvement on anything she had known. Even the cheap cu- rates, she incidentally learned, were almost always young men of family ; and Mr. Middleton, the actual curate, was said to be quite an acquisition : it was only a pity he was so soon to leave.
But there was one point which she was so anxious to gain that she could not allow the evening to pass without taking her measures towards securing it. Her mamma, she knew, intended to submit entirely to her uncle's judgment with regard to expenditure ; and the submission was not merely prudential, for Mrs. Davilow, conscious that she had always been seen under a cloud as poor dear Fanny, who had made a sad blunder with her second marriage, felt a hearty satisfaction in being frankly and cordially identified with her sister's family, and in having her affairs canvassed and managed with an authority which presupposed a genuine interest. Thus the question of a suitable saddle-horse, which had been sufficiently discussed with mamma, had to be re- ferred to Mr. Gascoigne ; and after Gwendolen had
40 DANIEL DERONDA.
played on the piano, which had been provided from Wanchester, had sung to her hearers' admiration, and had induced her uncle to join her in a duet, — what more softening influence than this on any uncle who would have sung finely if his time had not been too much taken up by graver matters ? — she seized the opportune moment for saying, " Mamma, you have not spoken to my uncle about my riding."
" Gwendolen desires above all things to have a horse to ride, — a pretty, light lady's horse," said Mrs, Davilow, looking at Mr. Gascoigne. " Do you think we can manage it ? "
Mr. Gascoigne projected his lower lip and lifted his handsome eyebrows sarcastically at Gwendolen, who had seated herself with much grace on the elbow of her mamma's chair.
" We could lend her the pony sometimes, " said Mrs. Gascoigne, watching her husband's face, and feeling quite ready to disapprove if he did.
" That might be inconveniencing others, aunt, and would be no pleasure to me. I cannot endure ponies," said Gwendolen. "I would rather give up some other indulgence and have a horse. ' (Was there ever a young lady or gentleman not ready to give up an unspecified indulgence for the sake of the favourite one specified ? )
" She rides so well. She has had lessons, and the riding-master said she had so good a seat and hand she might be trusted with any mount, " said Mrs. Davilow, who, even if she had not wished her darling to have the horse, would not have dared to be lukewarm in trying to get it for her,
" There is the price of the horse, — a good sixty with the best chance, and then his keep, " said Mr.
THE SPOILED CHILD. 4t
Gascoigne, in a tone which, though demurring, betrayed the inward presence of something that favoured the demand. " There are the carriage- horses, already a heavy item. And remember what you ladies cost in toilet now. "
" I really wear nothing but two black dresses, " said Mrs. Davilow, hastily. " And the younger girls, of course, require no toilet at present. Be- sides, Gwendolen will save me so much by giving her sisters lessons." Here Mrs. Davilow's delicate cheek showed a rapid blush. " If it were not for that, I must really have a more expensive gover- ness, and masters besides. "
Gwendolen felt some anger with her mamma, but carefully concealed it.
" That is good, — that is decidedly good, " said Mr. Gascoigne, heartily, looking at his wife. And Gwendolen, who, it must be owned, was a deep young lady, suddenly moved away to the other end of the long drawing-room, and busied herself with arranging pieces of music.
" The dear child has had no indulgences, no pleasures, " said Mrs. Davilow, in a pleading un- dertone. " I feel the expense is rather imprudent in this first year of our settling. But she really needs the exercise, — she needs cheering. And if you were to see her on horseback, it is something splendid. "
" It is what we could not afford for Anna, " said Mrs. Gascoigne. " But she, dear child, would ride Lotta's donkey, and think it good enough. " (Anna was absorbed in a game with Isabel, who had hunted out an old backgammon-board, and had begged to sit up an extra hour.)
" Certainly, a fine woman never looks better
42 DANIEL BERONDA.
than on horseback, ' said Mr. Gascoigne. " And Gwendolen has the figure for it. I don't say the thing should not be considered. "
" We might try it for a time, at all events. It can be given up, if necessary, " said Mrs. Davilow.
" Well, I will consult Lord Brackenshaw's head groom. He is my fidus Achates in the horsey way. "
" Thanks, " said Mrs. Davilow, much relieved. " You are very kind. "
" That he always is, " said Mrs. Gascoigne. And later that night, when she and her husband were in private, she said, —
" I thought you were almost too indulgent about the horse for Gwendolen. She ought not to claim so much more than your own daughter would think of. Especially before we see how Fanny manages on her income. And you really have enough to do without taking all this trouble on yourself. "
" My dear Nancy, one must look at things from every point of view. This girl is really worth some expense: you don't often see her equal. She ought to make a first-rate marriage, and I should not be doing my duty if I spared my trouble in helping her forward. You know yourself she has been under a disadvantage with such a father-in- law, and a second family, keeping her always in the shade. I feel for the girl. And I should like your sister and her family now to have the benefit of your having married rather a better specimen of our kind than she did. "
" Rather better ! I should think so. However, it is for me to be grateful that you will take so much on your shoulders for the sake of my sister and her children. I am sure I would not grudge
THE SrOTLED CHILD. 43
anything to poor Fanny. But there is one thing I have been thinking of, though you have never mentioned it. "
" What is that ? "
" The boys. I hope they will not be falling in love with Gwendolen. "
" Don't presuppose anything of the kind, my dear, and there will be no danger. Eex will never be at home for long together, and Warham is going to India. It is the wiser plan to take it for granted that cousins will not fall in love. If you begin with precautions, the affair will come in spite of them. One must not undertake to act for Providence in these matters, which can no more be held under the hand than a brood of chickens. The boys will have nothing, and Gwendolen will have nothing. They can't marry. At the worst there would only be a little crying, and you can't save boys and girls from that. "
Mrs. Gascoigne's mind was satisfied : if any- thing did happen, there was the comfort of feeling that her husband would know what was to be done and would have the energy to do it.
CHAPTER IV.
Gorgihus. . . . Je te dia que le mariage est nne chose sainte et sacree, et qae c'est faire en hunuetes gens, que de debuter par la.
Madelon. Mon Dieu ! que si tout lo moude vous ressemblait, un romau serait bientot Hni ! I^a belle chose que ce serait, si d'abord Cyrus epousait Mandane, et qu'Aronce de plain-pied fflt marie' k Clelie! . . . Laissez nous faire k loisir le tissu de notre romau, et u'eu pressez pas taut la couclusion.
MoLii:R£ : Lea PrAieuses Ridicules,
It would be a little hard to blame the Eector of Pennicote that in the course of looking at things from every point of view, he looked at Gwendolen as a girl likely to make a brilliant marriage. Why should he be expected to differ from his contempo- raries in this matter, and wish his niece a worse end of her charming maidenhood than they would approve as the best possible ? It is rather to be set down to his credit that his feelings on the sub- ject were entirely good-natured. And in consider- ing the relation of means to ends, it would have been mere folly to have been guided by the excep- tional and idyllic, — to have recommended that Gwendolen should wear a gown as shabby as Griselda's in order that a marquis might fall in love with her, or to have insisted that since a fair maiden was to be sought, she should keep herself out of the way. Mr. Gascoigne's calculations were of the kind called rational, and he did not even think of getting a too frisky horse in order that Gwendolen might be threatened with an ac- cident and be rescued by a man of property.
THE SPOILED CHILD. 45
He wished his niece well, and he meant her to be seen to advantage in the best society of the neighbourhood.
Her uncle's intention fell in perfectly with Gwendolen's own wishes. But let no one suppose that she also contemplated a brilliant marriage as the direct end of her witching the world with her grace on horseback, or with any other accomplish- ment. That she was to be married some time or other she would have felt obliged to admit; and that her marriage would not be of a middling kind, such as most girls were contented with, she felt quietly, unargumentatively sure. But her thoughts never dwelt on marriage as the fulfilment of her ambition ; the dramas in which she imagined her- self a heroine were not wrought up to that close. To be very much sued or hopelessly sighed for as a bride was indeed an indispensable and agreeable guarantee of womanly power ; but to become a wife and wear all the domestic fetters of that con- dition, was on the whole a vexatious necessity. Her observation of matrimony had inclined her to think it rather a dreary state, in which a woman could not do what she liked, had more children than were desirable, was consequently dull, and became irrevocably immersed in humdrum. Of course marriage was social promotion ; she could not look forward to a single life ; but promotions have some- times to be taken with bitter herbs, — a peerage will not quite do instead of leadership to the man who meant to lead ; and this delicate-limbed sylph of twenty meant to lead. For such passions dwell in feminine breasts also. In Gwendolen's, how- ever, they dwelt among strictly feminine furniture, and had no disturbing reference to the advance-
46 DANIEL DERONDA.
ment of learning or the balance of the constitution; her knowledge being such as with no sort of stand- ing-room or length of lever could have been ex- pected to move the world. She meant to do what was pleasant to herself in a striking manner; or rather whatever she could do so as to strike others with admiration and get in that reflected way a more ardent sense of living, seemed pleasant to her fancy.
" Gwendolen will not rest without having the world at her feet," said Miss Merry, the meek governess, — hyperbolical words which have long come to carry the most moderate meanings ; for who has not heard of private persons having the world at their feet in the shape of some half-dozen items of flattering regard generally known in a genteel suburb ? And words could hardly be too wide or vague to indicate the prospect that made a hazy largeness about poor Gwendolen on the heights of her young self-exultation. Other people allowed themselves to be made slaves of, and to have their lives blown hither and thither like empty ships in which no will was present : it was not to be so with her, she would no longer be sacrificed to creatures worth less than herself, but would make the very best of the chances that life offered her, and conquer circumstance by her ex- ceptional cleverness. Certainly, to be settled at Offendene, with the notice of Lady Brackenshaw, the Archery Club, and invitations to dine with the Arrowpoints, as the highest lights in her scenery, was not a position that seemed to offer remarkable chances; but Gwendolen's confidence lay chiefly in herself. She felt well equipped for the mastery of life. With regard to much in her
THE SPOILED CHILD. 47
lot hitherto, she held herself rather hardly dealt with, but as to her " education " she would have admitted that it had left her under no disadvan- tages. In the schoolroom her quick mind had taken readily that strong starch of unexplained rules and disconnected facts which saves ignorance from any painful sense of limpness; and what remained of all things knowable, she was conscious of being sufficiently acquainted with through novels, plays, and poems. About her French and music, the two justifying accomplishments of a young lady, she felt no ground for uneasiness ; and when to all these qualifications, negative and posi- tive, we add the spontaneous sense of capability some happy persons are born with, so that any subject they turn attention to impresses them with their own power of forming a correct judg-^ ment on it, who can wonder if Gwendolen felt ready to manage her own destiny ?
There were many subjects in the world — per- haps the majority — in which she felt no interest because they were stupid ; for subjects are apt to appear stupid to the young as light seems dim to the old ; but she would not have felt at all help- less in relation to them, if they had turned up in conversation. It must be remembered that no one had disputed her power or her general superiority. As on the arrival at Offendene, so always, the first thought of those about her had been, what will Gwendolen think ? — if the footman trod heavily in creaking boots or if the laundress's work was unsatisfactory, the maid said, " This will never do for Miss Harleth ; " if the wood smoked in the bedroom fireplace, Mrs. Davilow, whose own weak eyes suffered much from this inconvenience, spoke
48 DANIEL DERONDA.
apologetically of it to Gwendolen. If, when they were under the stress of travelling, she did not appear at the breakfast-table till every one else had finished, the only question was, how Gwen- dolen's coffee and toast should still be of the hot- test and crispest ; and when she appeared with her freshly brushed light-brown hair streaming back- ward and awaiting her mamma's hand to coil it up, her long brown eyes glancing bright as a wave- washed onyx from under their long lashes, it was always she herself who had to be tolerant, — to beg that Alice who sat waiting on her would not stick up her shoulders in that frightful manner, and that Isabel instead of pushing up to her and ask- ing questions would go away to Miss Merry.
Always she was the princess in exile, who in time of famine was to have her breakfast-roll made of the finest-bolted flour from the seven thin ears of wheat, and in a general decampment was to have her silver fork kept out of the baggage. How was this to be accounted for? The answer may seem to lie quite on the surface, — in her beauty, a certain unusualness about her, a decision of will which made itself felt in her graceful movements and clear unhesitating tones, so that if she came into the room on a rainy day when everybody else was flaccid and the use of things in general was not apparent to them, there seemed to be a sudden, sufficient reason for keeping up the forms of life ; and even the waiters at hotels showed the more alacrity in doing away with crumbs and creases and dregs with struggling flies in them. This potent charm, added to the fact that she was the eldest daughter, towards whom her mamma had always been in an apologetic state of mind for the
THE SPOILED CHILD. 49
evils brought on her by a stepfather, may seem so full a reason for Gwendolen's domestic empire, that to look for any other would be to ask the reason of daylight when the sun is shining. But beware of arriving at conclusions without comparison. I remember having seen the same assiduous, apolo- getic attention awarded to persons who were not at all beautiful, or unusual, whose firmness showed itself in no very graceful or euphonious way, and who were not eldest daughters with a tender, timid mother, compunctious at having subjected them to inconveniences. Some of them were a very com- mon sort of men. And the only point of resem- blance among them all was a strong determination to have what was pleasant, with a total fearless- ness in making themselves disagreeable or danger- ous when they did not get it. Who is so much cajoled and served with trembling by the weak females of a household as the unscrupulous male, — capable, if he has not free way at home, of going and doing worse elsewhere ? Hence I am forced to doubt whether even without her potent charm and peculiar filial position Gwendolen might not still have played the queen in exile, if only she had kept her inborn energy of egoistic desire, and her power of inspiring fear as to what she might say or do. However, she had the charm, and those who feared her were also fond of her; the fear and the fondness being perhaps both heightened by what may be called the iridescence of her character, — the play of various, nay, con- trary tendencies. For Macbeth 's rhetoric about the impossibility of being many opposite things in the same moment, referred to the clumsy necessi- ties of action and not to the subtler possibilities of
VOL. I. — 4
so DANIEL DERONDA.
feeling. We cannot speak a loyal word and be meanly silent, we cannot kill and not kill in the same moment ; but a moment is room wide enough for the loyal and mean desire, for the outlash of a murderous thought and the sharp backward stroke of repentance.
CHAPTEE V.
Her wit Values itself so highly, that to her All matter else seems weak.
Much Ado about Nothing.
Gwendolen's reception in the neighbourhood ful- filled her uncle's expectations. From Bracken- shaw Castle to the Firs at Wanchester, where Mr. Quallon the banker kept a generous house, she was welcomed with manifest admiration, and even those ladies who did not quite like her, felt a comfort in having a new, striking girl to invite ; for hostesses who entertain much must make up their parties as ministers make up their cabinets, on grounds other than personal liking. Then, in order to have Gwendolen as a guest, it was not necessary to ask any one who was disagreeable, for Mrs. Davilow always made a quiet, picturesque figure as a chaperon, and Mr. Gascoigne was every- where in request for his own sake.
Among the houses where Gwendolen was not quite liked, and yet invited, was Quetcham Hall. One of her first invitations was to a large dinner- party there, which made a sort of general intro- duction for her to the society of the neighbourhood ; for in a select party of thirty, and of well-composed proportions as to age, few visitable families could be entirely left out. No youthful figure there was comparable to Gwendolen's as she passed through
52 DANIEL DERONDA.
the long suite of rooms adorned with light and flowers, and visible at first as a slim figure floating along in white drapery, approached through one wide doorway after another into fuller illumination and definiteness. She had never had that sort of promenade before, and she felt exultingly that it befitted her : any one looking at her for the first time might have supposed that long galleries and lackeys had always been a matter of course in her life ; while her cousin Anna, who was really more familiar with these things, felt almost as much embarrassed as a rabbit suddenly deposited in that well-lit space.
" Who is that with Gascoigne ? " said the arch- deacon, neglecting a discussion of military manoeu- vres on which, as a clergyman, he was naturally appealed to. And his son, on the other side of the room, — a hopeful young scholar, who had already suggested some " not less elegant than ingenious ' emendations of Greek texts, — said nearly at the same time, " By George ! who is that girl with the awfully well-set head and jolly figure ? "
But to a mind of general benevolence, wishing everybody to look well, it was rather exasperating to see how Gwendolen eclipsed others: how even the handsome Miss Lawe, explained to be the daughter of Lady Lawe, looked suddenly broad, heavy, and inanimate ; and how Miss Arrowpoint, unfortunately also dressed in white, immediately resembled a carte-de-visite in which one would fancy the skirt alone to have been charged for. Since Miss Arrowpoint was generally liked for the amiable unpretending way in which she wore her fortunes, and made a softening screen for the oddi- ties of her mother, there seemed to be some unfit-
THE SPOILED CHILD. S3
ness in Gwendolen's looking so much more like a person of social importance.
" She is not really so handsome if you come to examine her features, " said Mrs. Arrowpoint, later in the evening, confidentially to Mrs. Vulcany. " It is a certain style she has, which produces a great effect at first, but afterwards she is less agreeable. "
In fact, Gwendolen, not intending it, but in- tending the contrary, had offended her hostess, who, though not a splenetic or vindictive woman, had her susceptibilities. Several conditions had met in the Lady of Quetcham which to the rea- soners in that neighbourhood seemed to have an essential connection with each other. It was occa- sionally recalled that she had been the heiress of a fortune gained by some moist or dry business in the city, in order fully to account for her having a squat figure, a harsh parrot-like voice, and a systematically high head-dress ; and since these points made her externally rather ridiculous, it appeared to many only natural that she should have what are called literary tendencies. A little comparison would have shown that all these points are to be found apart ; daughters of aldermen being often well -grown and well-featured, pretty women having sometimes harsh or husky voices, and the production of feeble literature being found com- patible with the most diverse forms of physique, masculine as well as feminine.
Gwendolen, who had a keen sense of absurdity in others, but was kindly disposed towards any one who could make life agreeable to her, meant to win Mrs. Arrowpoint by giving her an interest and attention beyond what others were probably
54 DANIEL DERONDA.
inclined to show. But self-confidence is apt to address itself to an imaginary dulness in others ; as people who are well off speak in a cajoling tone to the poor, and those who are in the prime of life raise their voice and talk artificially to seniors, hastily conceiving them to be deaf and rather imbecile. Gwendolen, with all her cleverness and purpose to be agreeable, could not escape that form of stupidity : it followed in her mind, unreflect- ingly, that because Mrs. Arrowpoint was ridiculous she was also likely to be wanting in penetration, and she went through her little scenes without suspicion that the various shades of her behaviour were all noted.
" You are fond of books as well as of music, riding, and archery, I hear, " Mrs. Arrowpoint said, going to her for a tete-a-tete in the drawing- room after dinner : " Catherine will be very glad to have so sympathetic a neighbour. ' This little speech might have seemed the most graceful polite- ness, spoken in a low melodious tone ; but with a twang fatally loud it gave Gwendolen a sense of ex- ercising patronage when she answered gracefully, —
" It is I who am fortunate. Miss Arrowpoint will teach me what good music is: I shall be entirely a learner. I hear that she is a thorough musician. *
" Catherine has certainly had every advantage. We have a first-rate musician in the house now, — Herr Klesmer; perhaps you know all his composi- tions. You must allow me to introduce him to you. You sing, I believe. Catherine plays three instruments, but she does not sing. I hope you will let us hear you. I understand you are an accomplished singer. '
THE SPOILED CHILD. 5S
"Oh no! — 'die Kraft ist schwach, allein die Lust ist gross, ' as Mephistopheles says. "
" Ah, you are a student of Goethe. Young ladies are so advanced now. I suppose you have read everything. "
" No, really. I shall be so glad if you will tell me what to read. I have been looking into all the books in the library at Offendene, but there is nothing readable. The -leaves all stick together and smell musty. I wish I could write books to amuse myself, as you can ! How delightful it must be to write books after one's own taste in- stead of reading other people's ! Home-made books must be so nice. "
For an instant Mrs. Arrowpoint's glance was a little sharper, but the perilous resemblance to satire in the last sentence took the hue of girlish simplicity when Gwendolen added, —
" I would give anything to write a book ! "
" And why should you not ? " said Mrs. Arrow- point, encouragingly. " You have but to begin as I did. Pen, ink, and paper are at everybody's command. But I will send you all I have written with pleasure. "
" Thanks. I shall be so glad to read your writ- ings. Being acquainted with authors must give a peculiar understanding of their books : one would be able to tell then which parts were funny and which serious. I am sure I often laugh in the wrong place. " Here Gwendolen herself became aware of danger, and added quickly, " In Shake- speare, you know, and other great writers that we can never see. But I always want to know more than there is in the books."
" If you are interested in any of my subjects, I
56 DANIEL DERONDA.
can lend you many extra sheets in manuscript," said Mrs. Arrowpoint, — while Gwendolen felt her- self painfully in the position of the young lady who professed to like potted sprats. " These are things I dare say I shall publish eventually : sev- eral friends have urged me to do so, and one doesn't like to be obstinate. My Tasso, for ex- ample. — I could have made it twice the size. "
" I dote on Tasso, " said Gwendolen.
" Well, you shall have all my papers, if you like. So many, you know, have written about Tasso ; but they are all wrong. As to the particu- lar nature of his madness, and his feelings for Leonora, and the real cause of his imprisonment, and the character of Leonora, who, in my opinion, was a cold-hearted woman, else she would have married him in spite of her brother, — they are all wrong. I differ from everybody. "
" How very interesting ! " said Gwendolen. " I like to differ from everybody ; I think it is so stupid to agree. That is the worst of writing your opinions ; you make people agree with you. "
This speech renewed a slight suspicion in Mrs. Arrowpoint, and again her glance became for a moment examining. But Gwendolen looked very innocent, and continued with a docile air, —
" I know nothing of Tasso except the Gerusa- lemme Liherata, which we read and learned by heart at school. "
" Ah, his life is more interesting than his poetry. I have constructed the early part of his life as a sort of romance. When one thinks of his father Bernardo, and so on, there is so much that must be true. "
" Imagination is often truer than fact, " said
THE SPOILED CHILD. 57
Gwendolen, decisively, though she could no more have explained these glib words than if they had been Coptic or Etruscan, " I shall be so glad to learn all about Tasso, — and his madness especially. I suppose poets are always a little mad. "
" To be sure, — ' the poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling ; ' and somebody says of Marlowe, —
* For that fine madness still he did maintain Which always should possess the poet's brain.' "
" But it was not always found out, was it ? " said Gwendolen, innocently. " I suppose some of them rolled their eyes in private. Mad people are often very cunning. "
Again a shade flitted over Mrs. Arrowpoint's face ; but the entrance of the gentlemen prevented any immediate mischief between her and this too quick young lady, who had over-acted her naivete.
" Ah, here comes Herr Klesmer, " said Mrs. Arrowpoint, rising ; and presently bringing him to Gwendolen, she left them to a dialogue which was agreeable on both sides, Herr Klesmer being a felicitous combination of the German, the Sclave, and the Semite, with grand features, brown hair floating in artistic fashion, and brown eyes in spectacles. His English had little foreignness ex- cept its fluency ; and his alarming cleverness was made less formidable just then by a certain soften- ing air of silliness which will sometimes befall even Genius in the desire of being agreeable to Beauty.
Music was soon begun. Miss Arrowpoint and Herr Klesmer played a four-handed piece on two pianos which convinced the company in general that it was long, and Gwendolen in particular that
58 DANIEL DERONDA.
the neutral, placid-faced Miss Arrowpoint had a mastery of the instrument which put her own execution out of the question, — though she was not discouraged as to her often -praised touch and style. After this every one became anxious to hear Gwendolen sing, especially Mr. Arrowpoint ; as was natural in a host and a perfect gentleman, of whom no one had anything to say but that he had married Miss Guttler, and imported the best cigars; and he led her to the piano with easy politeness. Herr Klesmer closed the instrument in readiness for her, and smiled with pleasure at her approach ; then placed himself at the distance of a few feet, so that he could see her as she sang.
Gwendolen was not nervous : what she under- took to do she did without trembling, and singing was an enjoyment to her. Her voice was a moder- ately powerful soprano (some one had told her it was like Jenny Lind's), her ear good, and she was able to keep in tune, so that her singing gave pleasure to ordinary hearers, and she had been used to unmingled applause. She had the rare advantage of looking almost j)rettier when she was singing than at other times, and that Herr Klesmer was in front of her seemed not disagree- able. Her song, determined on beforehand, was a favourite aria of Bellini's, in which she felt quite sure of herself.
"Charming!" said Mr. Arrowpoint, who had remained near; and the word was echoed around without more insincerity than we recognize in a brotherly way as human. But Herr Klesmer stood like a statue, — if a statue can be imagined in spec- tacles; at least, he was as mute as a statue. Gwendolen was pressed to keep her seat and double
THE SPOILED CHILD. 59
the general pleasure, and she did not wish to re- fuse ; but before resolving to do so, she moved a little towards Herr Klesmer, saying with a look of smiling appeal, " It would be too cruel to a great musician. You cannot like to hear poor amateur singing. "
" No, truly ; but that makes nothing, " said Herr Ivlesmer, suddenly speaking in .an odious German fashion with staccato endings, quite unobservable in him before, and apparently depending on a change of mood, as Irishmen resume their strong- est brogue when they are fervid or quarrelsome. " That makes nothing. It is always acceptable to see you sing. "
Was there ever so unexpected an assertion of superiority, at least before the late Teutonic con- quest ? Gwendolen coloured deeply, but, with her usual presence of mind, did not show an ungrace- ful resentment by moving away immediately ; and Miss Arrowpoint, who had been near enough to overhear (and also to observe that Herr Klesmer 's mode of looking at Gwendolen was more conspicu- ously admiring than was quite consistent with good taste), now with the utmost tact and kind- ness came close to her and said, —
" Imagine what I have to go through with this professor! He can hardly tolerate anything we English do in music. We can only put up with his severity, and make use of it to find out the worst that can be said of us. It is a little comfort to know that ; and one can bear it when every one else is admiring. "
" I should be very much obliged to him for tell- ing me the worst," said Gwendolen, recovering herself. " I dare say I have been extremely ill
6o DANIEL DERONDA.
taught, in addition to having no talent — only liking for music. " This was very well expressed considering that it had never entered her mind before.
" Yes, it is true ; you have not been well taught, * said Herr Klesmer, quietly. Woman was dear to him, but music was dearer. " Still you are not quite without gifts. You sing in tune, and you have a pretty fair organ. But you produce your notes badly; and that music which you sing is beneath you. It is a form of melody which ex- presses a puerile state of culture, — a dandling, cant- ing, see-saw kind of stuff, — the passion and thought of people without any breadth of horizon. There is a sort of self-satisfied folly about every phrase of such melody ; no cries of deep, mysterious pas- sion,— no conflict, — no sense of the universal. It makes men small as they listen to it. Sing now something larger. And I shall see. "
"Oh, not now, — by and by, " said Gwendolen, with a sinking of heart at the sudden width of horizon opened round her small musical perform- ance. For a young lady desiring to lead, this first encounter in her campaign was startling. But she was bent on not behaving foolishly, and Miss Arrowpoint helped her by saying, —
" Yes, by and by. I always require half an hour to get up my courage after being criticised by Herr Klesmer. We will ask him to play to us now : he is bound to show us what is good music. "
To be quite safe on this point, Herr Klesmer played a composition of his own, a fantasia called Freudvoll, Leidvoll, Gedankenvoll, — an extensive commentary on some melodic ideas not too grossly evident; and he certainly fetched as much variety
THE SPOILED CHILD. 6t
and depth of passion out of the piano as that mod- erately responsive instrument lends itself to, hav- ing an imperious magic in his fingers that seemed to send a nerve-thrill through ivory key and wooden hammer, and compel the strings to make a quiver- ing, lingering speech for him. Gwendolen, in spite of her wounded egoism, had fulness of nature enough to feel the power of this playing ; and it gradually turned her inward sob of mortification into an ex- citement which lifted her for the moment into a desperate indifference about her own doings, or at least a determination to get a superiority over them by laughing at them as if they belonged to some- body else. Her eyes had become brighter, her cheeks slightly flushed, and her tongue ready for any mischievous remarks.
" I wish you would sing to us again. Miss Harleth," said young Clintock, the archdeacon's classical son, who had been so fortunate as to take her to dinner, and came up to renew conversation as soon as Herr Klesmer's performance was ended. " That is the style of music for me. I never can make anything of this tip -top playing. It is like a jar of leeches, where you can never tell either beginnings or endings. I could listen to your singing all day. "
" Yes, we should be glad of something popular now, — another song from you would be a relaxa- tion," said Mrs. Arrowpoint, who had also come near with polite intentions.
" That must be because you are in a puerile state of culture, and have no breadth of horizon. I have just learned that. I have been taught how bad my taste is, and am feeling growing pains. They are never pleasant, " said Gwendolen, not
62 DANIEL DERONDA.
taking any notice of Mrs. Arrowpoint, and looking up with a bright smile at young Clintock.
Mrs. Arrowpoint was not insensible to this rude- ness, but merely said, " Well, we will not press anything disagreeably ; " and as there was a per- ceptible outrush of imprisoned conversation just then, and a movement of guests seeking each other, she remained seated where she was, and looked round her with the relief of the hostess at finding she is not needed
" I am glad you like this neighbourhood, " said young Clintock, well pleased with his station in front of Gwendolen.
" Exceedingly. There seems to be a little of everything and not much of anything. "
" That is rather equivocal praise. "
" Not with me. I like a little of everything ; a little absurdity, for example, is very amusing. I am thankful for a few queer people ; but much of them is a bore. "
(Mrs. Arrowpoint, who was hearing this dia- logue, perceived quite a new tone in Gwendolen's speech, and felt a revival of doubt as to her inter- est in Tasso's madness.)
" I think there should be more croquet, for one thing, " said young Clintock ; " I am usually away, but if I were more here I should go in for a cro- quet club. You are one of the archers, I think. But depend upon it, croquet is the game of the future. It wants writing up, though. One of our best men has written a poem on it, in four cantos, — as good as Pope. I want him to publish it. You never read anything better. "
" I shall study croquet to-morrow. I shall take to it instead of singing. "
THE SPOILED CHILD. 63
"No, no, not that; but do take to croquet. I will send you Jenning's poem, if you like. I have a manuscript copy. "
" Is he a great friend of yours ? '
" Well, rather. "
" Oh, if he is only rather, I think I will decline. Or, if you send it me, will you promise not to catechise me upon it and ask me which part I like best ? Because it is not so easy to know a poem without reading it as to know a sermon without listening. "
" Decidedly, " Mrs. Arrowpoint thought, " this girl is double and satirical. I shall be on my guard against her. "
But Gwendolen, nevertheless, continued to re- ceive polite attentions from the family at Quetcham, not merely because invitations have larger grounds than those of personal liking, but because the try- ing little scene at the piano had awakened a kindly solicitude towards her in the gentle mind of Miss Arrowpoint, who managed all the invitations and visits, her mother being otherwise occupied.
CHAPTEE VI.
Croyez-vons m'avoir humiliee pour m'avoi rappris qne la terra tourne autour du soleil? Je voua jure que je ue m'en estirne paa mollis. — FoNTENELLE : PluroUle des Mondes.
That lofty criticism had caused Gwendolen a new sort of pain. She would not have chosen to con- fess how unfortunate she thought herself in not having had Miss Arrowpoint's musical advantages, so as to be able to question Herr Klesmer's taste with the confidence of thorough knowledge; still less to admit even to herself that Miss Arrowpoint each time they met raised an unwonted feeling of jealousy in her : not in the least because she was an heiress, but because it was really provoking that a girl whose appearance you could not char- acterize except by saying that her figure was slight and of middle stature, her features small, her eyes tolerable, and her complexion sallow, had never- theless a certain mental superiority which could not be explained away, — an exasperating thorough- ness in her musical accomplishment, a fastidious discrimination in her general tastes, which made it impossible to force her admiration and kept you in awe of her standard. This insignificant-looking young lady of four-and-twenty, whom any one's eyes would have passed over negligently if she had not been Miss Arrowpoint, might be suspected of a secret opinion that Miss Harleth's acquirements were rather of a common order j and such an opin-
THE SPOILED CHILD. 65
ion was not made agreeable to think of by being always veiled under a perfect kindness of manner.
But Gwendolen did not like to dwell on facts which threw an unfavourable light on herself. The musical Magus who had so suddenly widened her horizon was not always on the scene ; and his being constantly backwards and forwards between London and Quetcham soon began to be thought of as offering opportunities for converting him to a more admiring state of mind. Meanwhile, in the manifest pleasure her singing gave at Brackenshaw Castle, the Firs, and elsewhere, she recovered her equanimity, being disposed to think approval more trustworthy than objection, and not being one of the exceptional persons who have a parching thirst for a perfection undemanded by their neighbours. Perhaps it would have been rash to say then that she was at all exceptional inwardly, or that the unusual in her was more than her rare grace of movement and bearing, and a certain daring which gave piquancy to a very common egoistic ambition, such as exists under many clumsy exteriors and is taken no notice of. For I suppose that the set of the head does not really determine the hunger of the inner self for supremacy : it only makes a dif- ference sometimes as to the way in which the supremacy is held attainable, and a little also to the degree in which it can be attained ; especially when the hungry one is a girl, whose passion for doing what is remarkable has an ideal limit in consistency with the highest breeding and perfect freedom from the sordid need of income. Gwen- dolen was as inwardly rebellious against the re- straints of family conditions, and as ready to look through obligations into her own fundamental
VOL. I. — 5
66 DANIEL DERONDA.
want of feeling for them, as if she had been sus- tained by the boldest speculations ; but she really had no such speculations, and would at once have marked herself off from any sort of theoretical or practically reforming women by satirizing them. She rejoiced to feel herself exceptional ; but her horizon was that of the genteel romance where the heroine's soul poured out in her journal is full of vague power, originality, and general rebellion, while her life moves strictly in the sphere of fash- ion ; and if she wanders into a swamp, the pathos lies partly, so to speak, in her having on her satin shoes. Here is a restraint which nature and soci- ety have provided on the pursuit of striking adven- ture ; so that a soul burning with a sense of what the universe is not, and ready to take all existence as fuel, is nevertheless held captive by the ordi- nary wire-work of social forms, and does nothing particular.
This commonplace result was what Gwendolen found herself threatened with even in the novelty of the first winter at Offendene. What she was clear upon was, that she did not wish to lead the same sort of life as ordinary young ladies did ; but what she was not clear upon was, how she should set about leading any other, and what were the particular acts which she would assert her freedom by doing. Offendene remained a good background, if anything would happen there ; but on the whole the neighbourhood was in fault.
Beyond the effect of her beauty on a first presen- tation, there was not much excitement to be got out of her earliest invitations, and she came home after little sallies of satire and knowingness, such as had offended Mrs. Arrowpoint, to fill the iu-
THE SPOILED CHILD. 67
tervening days with the most girlish devices. The strongest assertion she was able to make of her individual claims was to leave out Alice's lessons (on the principle that Alice was more likely to excel in ignorance), and to employ her with Miss Merry, and the maid who was under- stood to wait on all the ladies, in helping to arrange various dramatic costumes which Gwen- dolen pleased herself with having in readiness for some future occasions of acting in charades or theatrical pieces, occasions which she meant to bring about by force of will or contrivance. She had never acted, — only made a figure in tableaux vivans at school ; but she felt assured that she could act well, and having been once or twice to the Theatre Frangais, and also heard her mamma speak of Eachel, her waking dreams and cogita- tions as to how she would manage her destiny sometimes turned on the question whether she would become an actress like Eachel, since she was more beautiful than that thin Jewess. Mean- while the wet days before Christmas were passed pleasantly in the preparation of costumes, Greek, Oriental, and Composite, in which Gwendolen attitudinized and speechified before a domestic audience, including even the housekeeper, who was once pressed into it that she might swell the notes of applause ; but having shown herself un- worthy by observing that Miss Harleth looked far more like a queen in her own dress than in that baggy thing with her arms all bare, she was not invited a second time.
" Do I look as well as Eachel, mamma ? " said Gwendolen, one day when she had been showing herself in her Greek dress to Anna, and going through scraps of scenes with much tragic intention.
68 DANIEL DERONDA.
" You have better arms than Rachel, " said Mrs. Davilow ; " your arms would do for anything, Gwen. But your voice is not so tragic as hers ; it is not so deep. "
" I can make it deeper, if I like, " said Gwen- dolen, provisionally; then she added, with deci- sion, " I think a higher voice is more tragic : it is more feminine ; and the more feminine a woman is, the more tragic it seems when she does desper- ate actions. "
" There may be something in that, " said Mrs. Davilow, languidly. "But I don't know what good there is in making one's blood creep. And if there is anything horrible to be done, I should like it to be left to the men. "
" Oh, mamma, you are so dreadfully prosaic ! As if all the great poetic criminals were not women! I think the men are poor cautious creatures. "
" Well, dear, and you — who are afraid to be alone in the night — I don't think you would be very bold in crime, thank God. "
" I am not talking about reality, mamma, " said Gwendolen, impatiently. Then, her mamma being called out of the room, she turned quickly to her cousin, as if taking an opportunity, and said : " Anna, do ask my uncle to let us get up some cha- Tades at the Rectory. Mr. Middle ton and Warham could act with us — just for practice. Mamma says it will not do to have Mr. Middleton consulting and rehearsing here. He is a stick, but we could give him suitable parts. Do ask ; or else I will. "
" Oh, not till Rex comes. He is so clever, and such a dear old thing, and he will act Napoleon looking over the sea. He looks just like Napo- leon. Rex can do anything. "
THE SPOILED CHILD. 69
" I don't in the least believe in your Eex, Anna," said Gwendolen, laughing at her. " He will turn out to be like those wretched blue and yellow water-colours of his which you hang up in your bedroom and worship. "
" Very well, you will see, " said Anna. " It is not that I know what is clever, but he has got a scholarship already, and papa says he will get a fellowship, and nobody is better at games. He is cleverer than Mr. Middleton, and everybody but you calls Mr. Middleton clever. "
" So he may be in a dark-lantern sort of way. But he *s a stick. If he had to say, * Perdition catch my soul, but I do love her, ' he would say it in just the same tone as, ' Here endeth the second lesson. ' "
" Oh, Gwendolen ! " said Anna, shocked at these promiscuous allusions. " And it is very unkind of you to speak so of him, for he admires you very much. I heard Warham say one day to mamma, ' Middleton is regularly spoony upon Gwendolen. ' She was very angry with him ; but I know what it means. It is what they say at college for being in love. "
" How can I help it ? " said Gwendolen, rather contemptuously. " Perdition catch my soul if I love him. "
" No, of course ; papa, I think, would not wish it. And he is to go away soon. But it makes me sorry when you ridicule him. "
" What shall you do to me when I ridicule Eex ? " said Gwendolen, wickedly.
" Now, Gwendolen dear, you will not ? " _ said Anna, her eyes filling with tears. " I could not bear it. But there really is nothing in him to
70 DANIEL DERONDA.
ridicule. Only you may find out things. For no one ever thought of laughing at Mr. Middleton before you. Every one said he was nice-looking, and his manners perfect. I am sure I have always been frightened at him because of his learning and his square-cut coat, and his being a nephew of the bishop's and all that. But you will not ridicule Rex, — promise me. " Anna ended with a beseech- ing look which touched Gwendolen.
" You are a dear little coz, " she said, just touch- ing the tip of Anna's chin with her thumb and forefinger. ** I don't ever want to do anything that will vex you. Especially if Rex is to make every- thing come off, — charades and everything."
And when at last Rex was there, the animation he brought into the life at Offendene and the Rec- tory, and his ready partnership in Gwendolen's plans, left her no inclination for any ridicule that was not of an open and flattering kind, such as he himself enjoyed. He was a fine open-hearted youth, with a handsome face strongly resembling his father's and Anna's, but softer in expression than the one, and larger in scale than the other; a bright, healthy, loving nature, enjoying ordinary, innocent things so much that vice had no tempta- tion for him, and what he knew of it lay too entirely in the outer courts and little-visited cham- bers of his mind for him to think of it with great repulsion. Vicious habits were with him " what some fellows did," — "stupid stuff" which he liked to keep aloof from. He returned Anna's affection as fully as could be expected of a brother whose pleasures apart from her were more than the sum total of hers; and he had never known a Stronger love.
THE SPOILED CHILD. 71
The cousins were continually together at the one house or the other, — chiefly at Offendene, where there was more freedom, or rather where there was a more complete sway for Gwendolen ; and what- ever she wished became a ruling purpose for Rex. The charades came off according to her plans ; and also some other little scenes not contemplated by her in which her acting was more impromptu. It was at Offendene that the charades and tableaux were rehearsed and presented, Mrs. Davilow seeing no objection even to Mr. Middleton's being invited to share in them, now that Eex too was there, — especially as his services were indispensable ; War- ham, who was studying for India with a Wanches- ter " coach, " having no time to spare, and being generally dismal under a cram of everything except the answers needed at the forthcoming Examina- tion, which might disclose the welfare of our Indian Empire to be somehow connected with a quotable knowledge of Browne's Pastorals.
Mr. Middleton was persuaded to play various grave parts, Gwendolen having flattered him on his enviable immobility of countenance ; and at first a little pained and jealous at her comradeship with Eex, he presently drew encouragement from the thought that this sort of cousinly familiarity excluded any serious passion. Indeed, he occa- sionally felt that her more formal treatment of himself was such a sign of favour as to warrant his making advances before he left Pennicote, though he had intended to keep his feelings in reserve until his position should be more assured. Miss Gwendolen, quite aware that she was adored by this unexceptionable young clergyman with pale whiskers and square-cut collar, felt nothing
72 DANIEL DERONDA.
more on the subject than that she had no objec- tion to be adored : she turned her eyes on him with calm mercilessness, and caused him many mildly agitating hopes by seeming always to avoid dra- matic contact with him, — for all meanings, we know, depend on the key of interpretation.
Some persons might have thought beforehand that a young man of Anglican leanings, having a sense of sacredness much exercised on small things as well as great, rarely laughing save from polite- ness, and in general regarding the mention of spades by their naked names as rather coarse, would not have seen a fitting bride for himself in a girl who was daring in ridicule, and showed none of the special grace required in the clergy- man's wife; or that a young man informed by theological reading would have reflected that he was not likely to meet the taste of a lively, rest- less young lady like Miss Harleth. But are we always obliged to explain why the facts are not what some persons thought beforehand ? The apology lies on their side who had that erroneous way of thinking.
As for Kex, who would possibly have been sorry for poor Middleton if he had been aware of the excellent curate's inward conflict, he was too com- pletely absorbed in a first passion to have observa- tion for any person or thing. He did not observe Gwendolen ; he only felt what she said or did, and the back of his head seemed to be a good organ of information as to whether she was in the room or out. Before the end of the first fortnight he was so deeply in love that it was impossible for him to think of his life except as bound up with Gwen- dolen's. He could see no obstacles, poor boy ; his
THE SPOILED CHILD. 73
own love seemed a guarantee of hers, since it was one with the unperturbed delight in her image, so that he could no more dream of her giving him pain than an Egyptian could dream of snow. Slie sang and played to him whenever he liked, was always glad of his companionship in riding, though his borrowed steeds were often comic, was ready to join in any fun of his, and showed a right appre- ciation of Anna. No mark of sympathy seemed absent. That because Gwendolen was the most perfect creature in the world she was to make a grand match, had not occurred to him. He had no conceit, — at least, not more than goes to make up the necessary gum and consistence of a substan- tial personality : it was only that in the young bliss of loving he took Gwendolen's perfection as part of that good which had seemed one with life to him, being the outcome of a happy, well-em- bodied nature.
One incident which happened in the course of their dramatic attempts impressed Eex as a sign of her unusual sensibility. It showed an aspect of her nature which could not have been preconceived by any one who, like him, had only seen her habitual fearlessness in active exercises and her high spirits in society.
After a good deal of rehearsing it was resolved that a select party should be invited to Offendene to witness the performances which went with so much satisfaction to the actors. Anna had caused a pleasant surprise ; nothing could be neater than the way in which she played her little parts ; one would even have suspected her of hiding much sly observation under her simplicity. And Mr. Mid- dleton answered very well by not trying to be
74 DANIEL BERONDA.
comic. The main source of doubt and retardation had been Gwendolen's desire to appear in her Greek dress. No word for a charade would occur to her either waking or dreaming that suited her purpose of getting a statuesque pose in this favour- ite costume. To choose a motive from Eacine was of no use, since Rex and the others could not de- claim French verse, and improvised speeches would turn the scene into burlesque. Besides, Mr. Gas- coigne prohibited the acting of scenes from plays : he usually protested against the notion that an amusement which was fitting for every one else was unfitting for a clergyman ; but he would not in this matter overstep the line of decorum as drawn in that part of Wessex, which did not ex- clude his sanction of the young people's acting charades in his sister-in-law's house, — a very different affair from private theatricals in the full sense of the word.
Everybody of course was concerned to satisfy this wish of Gwendolen's, and Rex proposed that they should wind up with a tableau in which the effect of her majesty would not be marred by any one's speech. This pleased her thoroughly, and the only question was the choice of the tableau.
" Something pleasant, children, I beseech you, ' said Mrs. Davilow; "I can't have any Greek wickedness. "
" It is no worse than Christian wickedness, mamma," said Gwendolen, whose mention of Eachelesque heroines had called forth that remark.
" And less scandalous, " said Eex. " Besides, one thinks of it as all gone by and done with. What do you say to Briseis being led away ? I would be Achilles, and you would be looking
THE SPOILED CHILD. 75
round at me — after the print we have at the Kectory. "
" That would be a good attitude for me, " said Gwendolen, in a tone of acceptance. But after- wards she said with decision, " No. It will not do. There must be three men in proper costume, else it will be ridiculous. "
" I have it ! " said Rex, after a little reflection. " Hermione as the statue in the Winter's Tale! I will be Leontes, and Miss Merry Paulina, one on each side. Our dress won't signify," he went on laughingly ; " it will be more Shakespearian and romantic if Leontes looks like Napoleon, and Pau- lina like a modern spinster. "
And Hermione was chosen, all agreeing that age was of no consequence ; but Gwendolen urged that instead of the mere tableau there should be just enough acting of the scene to introduce the striking up of the music as a signal for her to step down and advance ; when Leontes, instead of em- bracing her, was to kneel and kiss the hem of her garment, and so the curtain was to fall. The antechamber with folding doors lent itself admi- rably to the purposes of a stage, and the whole of the establishment, with the addition of Jarrett the village carpenter, was absorbed in the preparations for an entertainment which, considering that it was an imitation of acting, was likely to be suc- cessful, since we know from ancient fable that an imitation may have more chance of success than the original.
Gwendolen was not without a special exultation in the prospect of this occasion, for she knew that Herr Klesmer was again at Quetcham, and she had taken care to include him among the invited.
76 DANIEL DERONDA.
Klesmer came. He was in one of his placid silent moods, and sat in serene contemplation, replying to all appeals in benignant-sounding syllables more or less articulate, — as taking up his cross meekly in a world overgrown with amateurs, or as careful how he moved his lion paws lest he should crush a rampant and vociferous mouse.
Everything indeed went off smoothly and accord- ing to expectation — all that was improvised and accidental being of a probable sort — until the in- cident occurred which showed Gwendolen in an unforeseen phase of emotion. How it came about was at first a mystery.
The tableau of Hermione was doubly striking from its dissimilarity with what had gone before : it was answering perfectly, and a murmur of ap- plause had been gradually suppressed while Leontes gave his permission that Paulina should exercise her utmost art and make the statue move.
Hermione, her arm resting on a pillar, was ele- vated by about six inches, which she counted on as a means of showing her pretty foot and instep, when at the given signal she should advance and descend.
" Music, awake her, strike ! " said Paulina (Mrs. Davilow, who by special entreaty had consented to take the part in a white burnous and hood)
• Herr Klesmer, who had been good-natured enough to seat himself at the piano, struck a thunderous chord — but in the same instant, and before Her- mione had put forth her foot, the movable panel, which was on a line with the piano, ilew open on the right opposite the stage, and disclosed the picture of the dead face and the fleeing figure, brought out in pale definiteness by the position of
THE SPOILED CHILD. ^^
the wax -lights. Every one was startled ; but all eyes in the act of turning towards the opened panel were recalled by a piercing cry from Gwendolen, who stood without change of attitude, but with a change of expression that was terrifying in its ter- ror. She looked like a statue into which a soul of Fear had entered : her pallid lips were parted ; her eyes, usually narrowed under their long lashes, were dilated and fixed. Her mother, less surprised than alarmed, rushed towards her, and Eex too could not help going to her side. But the touch of her mother's arm had the effect of an electric charge ; Gwendolen fell on her knees and put her hands before her faca She was still trembling, but mute, and it seemed that she had self-con- sciousness enough to aim at controlling her signs of terror, for she presently allowed herself to be raised from her kneeling posture and led away, while the company were relieving their minds by explanation.
" A magnificent bit of plastik that I " said Kles- mer to Miss Arrowpoint. And a quick fire of undertoned question and answer went round.
" Was it part of the play ? "
" Oh, no, surely not. Miss Harleth was too much affected. A sensitive creature ! "
" Dear me ! I was not aware that there was a painting behind that panel ; were you ? "
" No ; how should I ? Some eccentricity in one of the Earl's family long ago, I suppose. "
" How very painful ! Pray shut it up. "
" Was the door locked ? It is very mysterioua It must be the spirits. "
" But there is no medium present "
" How do you know that ? We must conclude that there is, when such things happen. "
78 DANIEL DERONDA.
* Oh, the door was not locked ; it was probahly the sudden vibration from the piano that sent it open. "
This conclusion came from Mr. Gascoigne, who begged Miss Merry if possible to get the key. But this readiness to explain the mystery was thought by Mrs. Vulcany unbecoming in a clergyman, and she observed in an undertone that Mr. Gascoigne was always a little too worldly for her taste. However, the key was produced, and the rector turned it in the lock with an emphasis rather offensively rationalizing — as who should say, " It will not start open again," — putting the key in his pocket as a security.
However, Gwendolen soon reappeared, showing her usual spirits, and evidently determined to ignore as far as she could the striking change she had made in the part of Hermiona
But when Klesmer said to her, " We have to thank you for devising a perfect climax : you could not have chosen a finer bit of plastik, " there was a Hush of pleasure in her face. She liked to accept as a belief what was really no more than delicate feigning. He divined that the betrayal into a pas- sion of fear had been mortifying to her, and wished her to understand that he took it for good acting. Gwendolen cherished the idea that now he was struck with her talent as well as her beauty, and her uneasiness about his opinion was half turned to complacency.
But too many were in the secret of what had been included in the rehearsals, and what had not ; and no one besides Klesmer took the trouble to soothe Gwendolen's imagined mortification. The general sentiment was that the incident should bo let drop.
THE SPOILED CHILD. 79
There had really been a medium concerned in the starting open of the panel : one who had quitted the room in haste and crept to bed in much alarm of conscience. It was the small Isabel, whose in- tense curiosity, unsatisfied by the brief glimpse she had had of the strange picture on the day of arrival at Offendene, had kept her on the watch for an opportunity of finding out where Gwendolen had put the key, of stealing it from the discovered drawer when the rest of the family were out, and getting on a stool to unlock the panel. While she was indulging her thirst for knowledge in this way, a noise which she feared was an approaching footstep alarmed her: she closed the door and attempted hurriedly to lock it, but failing and not daring to linger, she withdrew the key and trusted that the panel would stick, as it seemed well in- clined to do. In this confidence she had returned the key to its former place, stilling any anxiety by the thought that if the door were discovered to be unlocked nobody could know how the unlocking came about. The inconvenient Isabel, like other offenders, did not foresee her own impulse to con- fession, a fatality which came upon her the morn- ing after the party, when Gwendolen said at the breakfast-table, " I know the door was locked before the housekeeper gave me the key, for I tried it myself afterwards. Some one must have been to my drawer and taken the key. "
It seemed to Isabel that Gwendolen's awful eyes had rested on her more than on the other sisters, and without any time for resolve she said with a trembling lip, " Please forgive me, Gwendolen. "
The forgiveness was sooner bestowed than it would have been if Gwendolen had not desired to
8o DANIEL DERONDA.
dismiss from her own and every one else's memory any case in which she had shown her susceptibil- ity to terror. She wondered at herself in these occasional experiences, which seemed like a brief remembered madness, an unexplained exception from her normal life ; and in this instance she felt a peculiar vexation that her helpless fear had shown itself, not, as usual, in solitude, but in well-lit company. Her ideal was to be daring in speech and reckless in braving dangers, both moral and physical ; and though her practice fell far behind her ideal, this shortcoming seemed to be due to the pettiness of circumstances, the narrow theatre which life offers to a girl of twenty, who cannot conceive herself as anything else than a lady, or as in any position which would lack the tribute of respect. She had no permanent con- sciousness of other fetters, or of more spiritual restraints, having always disliked whatever was presented to her under the name of religion, in the same way that some people dislike arithmetic and accounts : it had raised no other emotion in her, no alarm, no longing ; so that the question whether she believed it had not occurred to her, any more than it had occurred to her to inquire into the conditions of colonial property and banking, on which, as she had had many opportunities of knowing, the family fortune was dependent. All these facts about herself she would have been ready to admit, and even, more or less indirectly, to state. What she unwillingly recognized, and would have been glad for others to be unaware of, was that liability of hers to fits of spiritual dread, though this fountain of awe within her had not found its way into connection with the religion
THE SPOILED CHILD. 8i
taught her or with any human relations. She was ashamed and frightened, as at what might happen again, in remembering her tremor on suddenly feeling herself alone, when, for example, she was walking without companionship and there came some rapid change in the light. Solitude in any wide scene impressed her with an undefined feel- ing of immeasurable existence aloof from her, in the midst of which she was helplessly incapable of asserting herself. The little astronomy taught her at school used sometimes to set her imagination at work in a way that made her tremble : but always when some one joined her she recovered her in- difference to the vastness in which she seemed an exile; she found again her usual world in which her will was of some avail, and the religious nomenclature belonging to this world was no more identified for her with those uneasy impressions of awe than her uncle's surplices seen out of use at the Eectory. With human ears and eyes about her, she had always hitherto recovered her confi- dence, and felt the possibility of winning empire.
To her mamma and others her fits of timidity or terror were sufficiently accounted for by her " sen- sitiveness " or the " excitability of her nature ; " but these explanatory phrases required conciliation with much that seemed to be blank indifference or rare self-mastery. Heat is a great agent and a useful word, but considered as a means of explain- ing the universe it requires an extensive knowl- edge of differences ; and as a means of explaining character " sensitiveness " is in much the same predicament. But who, loving a creature like Gwendolen, would not be inclined to regard every peculiarity in her as a mark of pre-eminence ?
VOL. I. — 6
8a DANIEL DERONDA.
That was what Rex did. After the Hermione scene he was more persuaded than ever that she must be instinct with all feeling, and not only readier to respond to a worshipful love, but able to love better than other girls. Rex felt the sum- mer on his young wings, and soared happily.
CHAPTER VII.
Perigot. As the bonny lasse passed bye,
Willie. Hey, ho, bonnilasse !
P. She roode at me with glauncing eye,
W. As clear as the crystall glasse.
P. All as the sunny beame so bright,
W. Hey, ho, the sunnebeame !
P. Glaunceth from Phcebus' face forthright,
W. So love into thy heart did streame.
Spenser: Shepheard's Calendar.
The kindliest symptom, yet the most alarming crisis in the ticklish state of youth; the nourisher and destroyer of hopeful wits ; . . . the servitude above freedom ; the gentle mind's religion ; the liberal superstition. — Charles Lamb.
The first sign of the unimagined snow-storm was like the transparent white cloud that seems to set off the blue. Anna was in the secret of Rex's feel- ing ; though for the first time in their lives he had said nothing to her about what he most thought of, and he only took it for granted that she knew it. For the first time, too, Anna could not say to Rex what was continually in her mind. Perhaps it might have been a pain which she would have had to conceal, that he should so soon care for some one else more than for herself, if such a feeling had not been thoroughly neutralized by doubt and anxiety on his behalf. Anna admired her cousin, — would have said with simple sincerity, "Gwendolen is always very good to me," and held it in the order of things for herself to be entirely subject to this cousin ; but she looked at her with mingled fear and distrust,
84 DANIEL DERONDA.
with a puzzled contemplation as of some wondrous and beautiful animal whose nature was a mystery, and who, for anything Anna knew, might have an appetite for devouring all the small creatures that were her own particular pets. And now Anna's heart was sinking under the heavy conviction which she dared not utter, that Gwendolen would never care for Rex. What she herself held in tenderness and reverence had constantly seemed indifferent to Gwendolen, and it was easier to imagine her scorning Rex than returning any tenderness of his. Besides, she was always thinking of being something extraor- dinary. And poor Rex ! Papa would be angry with him, if he knew. And of course he was too young to be in love in that way ; and she, Anna, had thought that it would be years and years before anything of that sort came, and that she would be Rex's housekeeper ever so long. But what a heart must that be which did not return his love ! Anna, in the prospect of his suffering, was beginning to dislike her too fascinating cousin. .
It seemed to her, as it did to Rex, that the weeks had been filled with a tumultuous life evident to all observers : if he had been questioned on the subject, he would have said that he had no wish to conceal what he hoped would be an engagement which he should immediately tell his father of ; and yet for the first time in his life he was reserved not only about his feelings, but — which was more remarkable to Anna — about certain actions. She, on her side, was nervous each time her father or mother began to speak to her in private, lest they should say any- thing about Rex and Gwendolen. But the elders were not in the least alive to this agitating drama, which went forward chiefly in a sort of pantomime
THE SPOILED CHILD. 85
extremely lucid in the minds thus expressing them- selves, but easily missed by spectators who were running their eyes over the "Guardian" or the "Clerical Gazette," and regarded the trivialities of the young ones with scarcely more interpretation than they gave to the actions of lively ants.
" Where are you going, Eex ? " said Anna one gray morning when her father had set off in the carriage to the sessions, Mrs, Gascoigne with him, and she had observed that her brother had on his antigropelos, the utmost approach he possessed to a hunting equipment.
" Going to see the hounds throw off at the Three Barns."
" Are you going to take Gwendolen ? " said Anna, timidly.
" She told you, did she ? "
"No; but I thought — Does papa know you are going ? "
" Not that I am aware of. I don't suppose he would trouble himself about the matter."
" You are going to use his horse ? "
" He knows I do that whenever I can."
" Don't let Gwendolen ride after the hounds, Eex," said Anna, whose fears gifted her with second-sight.
"Why not?" said Eex, smiling rather pro- vokingly.
" Papa and mamma and Aunt Davilow all wish her not to. They think it is not right for her."
"Why should you suppose she is going to do what is not right?"
" Gwendolen minds nobody sometimes," said Anna, getting bolder by dint of a little anger.
" Then she would not mind me," said Eex, per- versely making a joke of poor Anna's anxiety.
86 DANIEL DERONDA.
"Oh, Rex, I cannot bear it. You will make yourself very unhappy." Here Anna burst into tears.
"Nannie, Nannie, what on earth is the matter with you ? " said Rex, a little impatient at being kept in this way, hat on and whip in hand.
" She will not care for you one bit, — I know she never will ! " said the poor child in a sobbing whisper. She had lost all control of herself.
Rex reddened and hurried away from her out of the hall door, leaving her to the miserable con- sciousness of having made herself disagreeable in vain.
He did think of her words as he rode along : they had the unwelcomeness which all unfavourable fortune-telling has, even when laughed at ; but he quickly explained them as springing from little Anna's tenderness, and began to be sorry that he was obliged to come away without soothing her. Every other feeling on the subject, however, was quickly merged in a resistant belief to the contrary of hers, accompanied with a new determination to prove that he was right. This sort of certainty had just enough kinship to doubt and uneasiness to hurry on a confession which an untouched security might have delayed.
Gwendolen was already mounted and riding up and down the avenue when Rex appeared at the gate. She had provided herself against disappoint- ment in case he did not appear in time by having the groom ready behind her, for she would not have waited beyond a reasonable time. But now the groom was dismissed, and the two rode away in delightful freedom. Gwendolen was in her highest spirits, and Rex thought that she had never looked
THE SPOILED CHILD. 87
so lovely before : her figure, her long white throat, and the curves of her cheek and chin were always set off to perfection by the compact simplicity of her riding-dress. He could not conceive a more per- fect girl ; and to a youthful lover like Rex it seems that the fundamental identity of the good, the true, and the beautiful is already extant and manifest in the object of his love. Most observers would have held it more than equally accountable that a girl should have like impressions about Rex, for in his handsome face there was nothing corresponding to the undefinable stinging quality — as it were a trace of demon ancestry — which made some be- holders hesitate in their admiration of Gwendolen,
It was an exquisite January morning, in which there was no threat of rain, but a gray sky making the calmest background for the charms of a mild winter scene, — the grassy borders of the lanes, the hedgerows sprinkled with red berries and haunted with low twitterings, the purple bareness of the elms, the rich brown of the furrows. The horses' hoofs made a musical chime, accompanying their young voices. She was laughing at his equip- ment, for he was the reverse of a dandy, and he was enjoying her laughter: the freshness of the morning mingled with the freshness of their youth ; and every sound that came from their clear throats, every glance they gave each other, was the bubbling outflow from a spring of joy. It was all morning to them, within and without. And thinking of them in these moments one is tempted to that futile sort of wishing — if only things could have been a little otherwise then, so as to have been greatly other- wise after ! — if only these two beautiful young creatures could have pledged themselves to each
88 DANIEL DERONDA.
other then and there, and never through life have swerved from that pledge ! For some of the good- ness which Rex believed in was there. Goodness is a large, often a prospective word; like harvest, which at one stage when we talk of it lies all underground, with an indeterminate future : is the germ prospering in the darkness ? at another, it has put forth delicate green blades, and by and by the trembling blossoms are ready to be dashed off by an hour of rough wind or rain. Each stage has its peculiar blight, and may have the healthy life choked out of it by a particular action of the foul land which rears or neighbours it, or by damage brought from foulness afar.
" Anna had got it into her head that you would want to ride after the hounds this morning," said Rex, whose secret associations with Anna's words made this speech seem quite perilously near the most momentous of subjects.
" Did she ? " said Gwendolen, laughingly. " What a little clairvoyante she is ! "
" Shall you ? " said Rex, who had not believed in her intending to do it if the elders objected, but confided in her having good reasons.
" I don't know. I can't tell what I shall do till I get there. Clairvoyantes are often wrong: they foresee what is likely. I am not fond of what is likely ; it is always dull. I do what is unlikely."
" Ah, there you tell me a secret. When once I knew what people in general would be likely to do, I should know you would do the opposite. So you would have come round to a likelihood of your own sort. I shall be able to calculate on you. You couldn't surprise me."
THE SPOILED CniLB. 8^
" Yes, I could. I should turn round and do what was likely for people in general," said Gwendolen, with a musical laugh.
" You see you can't escape some sort of likeli- hood. And contradictoriness makes the strongest likelihood of all. You must give up a plan."
" No, I shall not. My plan is to do what pleases me." (Here should any young lady incline to imi- tate Gwendolen, let her consider the set of her head and neck : if the angle there had been differ- ent, the chin protrusive, and the cervical vertebrae a trifle more curved in their position, ten to one Gwendolen's words would have had a jar in them for the sweet-natured Kex. But everything odd in her speech was humour and pretty banter, which he was only anxious to turn towards one point.)
" Can you manage to feel only what pleases you ? " said ha
" Of course not ; that comes from what other people do. But if the world were pleasanter, one would only feel what was pleasant. Girls' lives are so stupid : they never do what they like."
" I thought that was more the case of the men. They are forced to do hard things, and are often dreadfully bored, and knocked to pieces too. And then, if we love a girl very dearly we want to do as she likes ; so after all you have your own way."
" I don't believe it. I never saw a married woman who had her own way."
" What should you like to do ? " said Rex, quite guilelessly, and in real anxiety.
" Oh, I don't know ! — go to the North Pole, or ride steeplechases, or go to be a queen in the East like Lady Hester Stanhope," said Gwendolen, flight- ily. Her words were born on her lips, but she
90 DANIEL DERONDA.
would have been at a loss to give an answer of deeper origin.
" You don't mean you would never be married ? "
" No ; I did n't say that. Only when I married, I should not do as other women do."
" You might do just as you liked if you married a man who loved you more dearly than anything else in the world," said Rex, who, poor youth, was moving in themes outside the curriculum in which he had promised to win distinction. " I know one who does."
"Don't talk of Mr. Middleton, for heaven's sake," said Gwendolen, hastily, a quick blush spreading over her face and neck ; " that is Anna's chant. I hear the hounds. Let us go on."
She put her chestnut to a canter, and Rex had no choice but to follow lier. Still he felt encouraged. Gwendolen was perfectly aware that her cousin was in love with her; but she had no idea that the matter was of any consequence, having never had the slightest visitation of painful love herself. She wished the small romance of Rex's devotion to fill up the time of his stay at Pennicote, and to avoid explanations which would bring it to an untimely end. Besides, she objected, with a sort of physical repulsion, to being directly made love to. With all her imaginative delight in being adored, there ^jras a certain fierceness of maidenhood in her.
But all other thoughts were soon lost for her in the excitement of the scene at the Three Barns. Several gentlemen of the hunt knew her, and she exchanged pleasant greetings. Rex could not get another word with her. The colour, the stir of the field had taken pos.session of Gwendolen with a strength which was not due to habitual associa-
THE SPOILED CHILD. 91
tion, for she had never yet ridden after the hounds, — only said she should like to do it, and so drawn forth a prohibition ; her mamma dreading th^ danger, and her uncle declaring that for his part he held that kind of violent exercise unseemly in a woman, and that whatever might be done in other parts of the country, no lady of good position followed the Wessex hunt : no one but Mrs. Gads- by, the yeomanry captain's wife, who had been a kitchen-maid, and still spoke like one. This last argument had some effect on Gwendolen, and had kept her halting between her desire to assert her freedom and her horror of being classed with Mrs. Gadsby.
Some of the most unexceptionable women in the neighbourhood occasionally went to see the hounds throw off ; but it happened that none of them were present this morning to abstain from following, while Mrs. Gadsby, with her doubtful antecedents, grammatical and otherwise, was not visible to make following seem unbecoming. Thus Gwendolen felt no check on the animal stimulus that came from the stir and tongue of the hounds, the pawing of the horses, the varying voices of men, the move- ment hither and thither of vivid colour on the back- ground of green and gray stillness, — that utmost excitement of the coming chase which consists in feeling something like a combination of dog and horse, with the superadded thrill of social vanities and consciousness of centaur-power which belong to humankind.
Rex would have felt more of the same enjoyment if he could have kept nearer to Gwendolen, and not seen her constantly occupied with acquaintances, or looked at by would-be acquaintances, all on lively
94 DANIEL DERONBA.
horses which veered about and swept the surround* ing space as effectually as a revolving lever.
" Glad to see you here this fine morning, Miss Har- leth," said Lord Brackenshaw, a middle-aged peer of aristocratic seediness in stained pink, with easy-going manners which would have made the threatened Deluge seem of no consequence. "We shall have a first-rate run. A pity you don't go with us. Have you ever tried your little chestnut at a ditch ? You wouldn't be afraid, eh?"
"Not the least in the world," said Gwendolen. And this was true ; she was never fearful in action and companionship. "I have often taken him at some rails and a ditch too, near — "
" Ah, by Jove ! " said his lordship, quietly, in notation that something was happening which must break off the dialogue ; and as he reined off his horse, Eex was bringing his sober hackney up to Gwen- dolen's side when — the hounds gave tongue, and the whole field was in motion as if the whirl of the earth were carrying it : Gwendolen along with every- thing else ; no word of notice to Rex, who without a second thought followed too. Could he let Gwen- dolen go alone ? Under other circumstances he would have enjoyed the run, but he was just now perturbed by the check which had been put on the impetus to utter his love, and get utterance in return, — an im- petus which could not at once resolve itself into a totally different sort of chase, at least with the con- sciousness of being on his father's gray nag, a good horse enough in his way, but of sober years and ecclesiastical habits. Gwendolen on her spirited little chestnut was up with the best, and felt as secure as an immortal goddess, having, if she had thought of risk, a core of confidence that no ill luck
THE SPOILED CHILD. 93
would happen to her. But she thought of no such thing, and certainly not of any risk there might be for her cousin. If she had thought of him, it would have struck her as a droll picture that he should be gradually falling behind, and looking round in search of gates : a fine lithe youth, whose heart must be panting with all the spirit of a beagle, stuck as if under a wizard's spell on a stiff clerical hackney, would have made her laugh with a sense of fun much too strong for her to reflect on his mortifica- tion. But Gwendolen was apt to think rather of those who saw her than of those whom she could not see ; and Rex was soon so far behind that if she had looked she would not have seen him. For I grieve to say that in the search for a gate, along a lane lately mended. Primrose fell, broke his knees, and undesignedly threw Rex over his head.
Fortunately a blacksmith's son who also followed the hounds under disadvantages, namely, on foot (a loose way of hunting which had struck some even frivolous minds as immoral), was naturally also in the rear, and happened to be within sight of Rex's misfortune. He ran to give help which was greatly needed, for Rex was a good deal stunned, and the complete recovery of sensation came in the form of pain. Joel Dagge on this occasion showed himself that most useful of personages, whose knowledge is of a kind suited to the immediate occasion : he not only knew perfectly well what was the matter with the horse, how far they were both from the nearest public-house and from Pennicote Rectory, and could certify to Rex that his shoulder was only a bit out of joint, but also offered experienced surgical aid.
" Lord, sir, let me shove it in again for you ! I 's see Nash the bone-setter do it, and done it myself
94 DANIEL DERONDA.
for our little Sally twice over. It 's all one and the same, shoulders is. If you '11 trusten to me and tighten your mind up a bit, I '11 do it for you in no time."
"Come then, old fellow," said Eex, who could tighten his mind better than his seat in the saddle. And Joel managed the operation, though not with- out considerable expense of pain to his patient, who turned so pitiably pale while tightening his mind, that Joel remarked : " Ah, sir, you are n't used to it, that 's how it is. I 's see lots and lots o' joints out. I see a man with his eye pushed out once, — that was a rum go as ever I see. You can't have a bit o' fun wi'out such a sort o' things. But it went in again. I's swallowed three teeth mysen, as sure as I'm alive. Now, sirrey" (this was addressed to Primrose), " come alonk, — you must n't make believe as you can't"
Joel being clearly a low character, it is happily not necessary to say more of him to the refined reader than that he helped Eex to get home with as little delay as possible. There was no alternative but to get home, though all the while he was in anxiety about Gwendolen, and more miserable in the thought that she too might have had an accident, than in the pain of his own bruises and the annoyance he was about to cause his father. He comforted himself about her by reflecting that every one would be anxious to take care of her, and that some ac- quaintance would be sure to conduct her home.
Mr, Gascoigne was already at home, and was writing letters in his study, when he was interrupted by seeing poor Eex come in with a face which was not the less handsome and ingratiating for being pale and a little distressed. He was secretly the favourite
THE SPOILED CHILD. 95
son, and a young portrait of the father ; who, how- ever, never treated him with any partiality, — rather, w^ith an extra rigour. Mr. Gascoigne, having inquired of Anna, knew that Rex had gone with Gwendolen to the meet at the Three Barns.
" What 's the matter ? " he said hastily, not laying down his pen,
"I'm very sorry, sir; Primrose has fallen down and broken his knees."
" Where have you been with him ? " said Mr. Gascoigne, with a touch of severity. He rarely gave way to temper.
" To the Three Barns to see the hounds throw off.**
" And you were fool enough to follow ? "
"Yes, sir. I didn't go at any fences, but the horse got his leg into a hole."
" And you got hurt yourself, I hope, eh ? "
" I got my shoulder put out, but a young black- smith put it in again for me. I'm just a little battered, that 's all."
" Well, sit down."
" I 'm very sorry about the horse, sir. I knew it would be a vexation to you."
" And what has become of Gwendolen ? " said Mr. Gascoigne, abruptly. Rex, who did not imagine that his father had made any inquiries about him, answered at first with a blush which was the more remarkable for his previous paleness. Then he said nervously, —
" I am anxious to know — I should like to go or send at once to Offendene — but she rides so well, and I think she would keep up — there would most likely be many round her."
" I suppose it was she who led you on, eh ? " said Mr. Gascoigne, laying down his pen, leaning back
96 DANIEL DERONDA.
in his chair, and looking at Rex with more marked examination.
"It was natural for her to want to go ; she didn't intend it beforehand, — she was led away by the spirit of the thing. And of course I went when she went."
Mr. Gascoigne left a brief interval of silence, and then said with quiet irony : " But now you observe, young gentleman, that you are not furnished with a horse which will enable you to play the squire to your cousin. You must give up that amusement. You have spoiled my nag for me, and that is enough mischief for one vacation. I shall beg you to get ready to start for Southampton to-morrow and join Stilfox, till you go up to Oxford with him. That will be good for your bruises as well as your studies."
Poor Rex felt his heart swelling and comporting itself as if it had been no better than a girl's.
" I hope you will not insist on my going imme- diately, sir."
" Do you feel too ill ? "
" No, not that — but — " Here Rex bit his lips and felt the tears starting, to his great vexation ; then he rallied and tried to say more firmly, " I want to go to Ofifendene — but I can go this evening."
"I am going there myself. I can bring word about Gwendolen, if that is what you want."
Rex broke down. He thought he discerned an intention fatal to his happiness, nay, his life. He was accustomed to believe in his father's pene- tration, and to expect firmness. "Father, I can't go away without telling her that I love her, and knowing that she loves me."
THE SPOILED CHILD. 97
Mr. Gascoigne was inwardly going through some self-rebuke for not being more wary, and was now really sorry for the lad ; but every consideration was subordinate to that of using the wisest tactics in the case. He had quickly made up his mind, and could answer the more quietly, —
" My dear boy, you are too young to be taking momentous, decisive steps of that sort. This is a fancy which you have got into your head during an idle week or two : you must set to work at some- thing and dismiss it. There is every reason against it. An engagement at your age would be totally rash and unjustifiable ; and moreover, alliances between first cousins are undesirable. Make up your mind to a brief disappointment. Life is full of them. We have all got to be broken in ; and this is a mild beginning for you."
" No, not mild. I can't bear it. I shall be good for nothing. I should n't mind anything, if it were settled between us. I could do anything then," said Eex, impetuously. " But it 's of no use to pre- tend that I will obey you. I can't do it. If I said I would, I should be sure to break my word. I should see Gwendolen again."
" "Well, wait till to-morrow morning, that we may talk of the matter again, — you will promise me that," said Mr. Gascoigne, quietly ; and Rex did not, could not refuse.
The Rector did not even tell his wife that he had any other reason for going to Offendene that even- ing than his desire to ascertain that Gwendolen had got home safely. He found her more than safe, — elated. Mr. Quallon, who had won the brush, had delivered the trophy to her, and she had brought it before her, fastened on the saddle ; more than that,
VOL. I. — 7
98 DANIEL DERONDA.
Lord Brackenshaw had conducted her home, and had shown himself delighted with her spirited rid- ing. All this was told at once to her uncle, that he might see how well justified she had been in acting against his advice ; and the prudential Rector did feel himself in a slight difficulty, for at that moment he was particularly sensible that it was his niece's serious interest to be well regarded by the Bracken- shaws, and their opinion as to her following the hounds really touched the essence of his objection. However, he was not obliged to say anything immediately, for Mrs. Davilow followed up Gwen- dolen's brief triumphant phrases with, —
" Still, I do hope you will not do it again, Gwen- dolen. I should never have a moment's quiet. Her father died by an accident, you know."
Here Mrs. Davilow had turned away from Gwen- dolen, and looked at Mr. Gascoigne.
" Mamma dear," said Gwendolen, kissing her mer- rily, and passing over the question of the fears which Mrs. Davilow had meant to account for, " children don't take after their parents in broken legs."
Not one word had yet been said about Rex. In fact, there had been no anxiety about him at Offendene. Gwendolen had observed to her mamma, " Oh, he must have been left far behind, and gone home in despair," and it could not be denied that this was fortunate so far as it made way for Lord Brackenshaw's bringing her home. But now Mr. Gascoigne said, with some emphasis, looking at Gwendolen, —
" Well, the exploit has ended better for you than for Rex."
"Yes, I dare say he had to make a terrible
THE SPOILED CHILD. 99
round. You have not taught Primrose to take the fences, uncle," said Gwendolen, without the faintest shade of alarm in her looks and tone.
" Rex has had a fall," said Mr. Gascoigne, curtly, throwing himself into an arm-chair, resting his elbows and fitting his palms and fingers together, while he closed his lips and looked at Gwendolen, who said, —
" Oh, poor fellow ! he is not hurt, I hope ? " with a correct look of anxiety such as elated mortals try to superinduce when their pulses are all the while quick with triumph; and Mrs. Davilow, in the same moment, uttered a low " Good heavens ! There ! "
Mr. Gascoigne went on : " He put his shoulder out, and got some bruises, I believe." Here he made another little pause of observation; but Gwendolen, instead of any such symptoms as pallor and silence, had only deepened the compassionate- ness of her brow and eyes, and said again, " Oh, poor fellow ! it is nothing serious, then ? " and Mr. Gascoigne held his diagnosis complete. But he wished to make assurance doubly sure, and went on still with a purpose.
" He got his arm set again rather oddly. Some blacksmith — not a parishioner of mine — was on the field, — a loose fish, I suppose, but handy, and set the arm for him immediately. So after all, I believe, I and Primrose come off worst. The horse's knees are cut to pieces. He came down in a hole, it seems, and pitched Rex over his head."
Gwendolen's face had allowably become contented again, since Rex's arm had been reset ; and now, at the descriptive suggestions in the latter part of her uncle's speech, her elated spirits made her features
loo DANIEL DERONDA.
less manageable than usual ; the smiles broke forth, and finally a descending scale of laughter.
" You are a pretty young lady — to laugh at other people's calamities," said Mr. Gascoigne, with a milder sense of disapprobation than if he had not had counteracting reasons to be glad that Gwendo- len showed no deep feeling on the occasion.
" Pray forgive me, uncle. Now Eex is safe, it is so droll to fancy the figure he and Primrose would cut — in a lane all by themselves — only a black- smith running up. It would make a capital cari- cature of ' Following the hounds.' "
Gwendolen rather valued herself on her superior freedom in laughing where others might only see matter for seriousness. Indeed, the laughter became her person so well that her opinion of its graceful- ness was often shared by others ; and it even entered into her uncle's course of thought at this moment, that it was no wonder a boy should be fascinated by this young witch, — who, however, was more mischievous than could be desired.
" How can you laugh at broken bones, child ? " said Mrs. Davilow, still under her dominant anxiety. " I wish we had never allowed you to have the horse. You will see that we were wrong," she added, look- ing with a grave nod at Mr. Gascoigne, — " at least I was, to encourage her in asking for it."
" Yes, seriously, Gwendolen," said Mr. Gascoigne, in a judicious tone of rational advice to a person understood to be altogether rational, " I strongly recommend you — I shall ask you to oblige me so far — not to repeat your adventure of to-day. Lord Brackenshaw is very kind, but I feel sure that he would concur with me in what I say. To be spoken of as ' tlie young lady who hunts ' by way of excep-
THE SPOILED CHILD. loi
tion, would give a tone to the language about you which I am sure you would not like. Depend upon it, his lordship would not choose that Lady Beatrice or Lady Maria should hunt in this part of the country, if they were old enough to do so. When you are married, it will be different : you may do whatever your husband sanctions. But if you intend to hunt, you must marry a man who can keep horses."
" I don't know why I should do anything so hor- rible as to marry without that prospect, at least," said Gwendolen, pettishly. Her uncle's speech had given her annoyance, which she could not show more directly ; but she felt that she was committing her- self, and after moving carelessly to another part of the room, went out.
" She always speaks in that way about marriage," said Mrs. Davilow ; " but it will be different when she has seen the right person."
" Her heart has never been in the least touched, that you know of ? " said Mr. Gascoigne.
Mrs. Davilow shook her head silently. " It was only last night she said to me, ' Mamma, I wonder how girls manage to fall in love. It is easy to make them do it in books. But men are too ridiculous.' "
Mr. Gascoigne laughed a little, and made no further remark on the subject. The next morning at breakfast he said, —
" How are your bruises, Eex ? "
" Oh, not very mellow yet, sir ; only beginning to turn a little."
"You don't feel quite ready for a journey to Southampton ? "
" Not quite," answered Eex, with his heart meta- phorically in his mouth.
102 DANIEL DERONDA.
" Well, you can wait till to-morrow, and go to say good-by to them at Ofifendene."
Mrs. Gascoigne, who now knew the whole affair, looked steadily at her coffee lest she also should begin to cry, as Anna was doing already.
Mr. Gascoigne felt that he was applying a sharp remedy to poor Rex's acute attack, but he believed it to be in the end the kindest. To let him know the hopelessness of his love from Gwendolen's own lips might be curative in more ways than one.
"I can only be thankful that she doesn't care about him," said Mrs. Gascoigne, when she joined her husband in his study. " There are things in Gwendolen I cannot reconcile myself to. My Anna is worth two of her, with all her beauty and talent. It looks so very ill in her that she will not help in the schools with Anna, — not even in the Sunday-school, What you or I advise is of no consequence to her ; and poor Fanny is completely under her thumb. But I know you think better of her," Mrs. Gascoigne ended with a deferential hesitation.
" Oh, my dear, there is no harm in the girl. It is only that she has a high spirit, and it will not do to hold the reins too tight. The point is, to get her well married. She has a little too much fire in her for her present life with her mother and sisters. It is natural and right that she should be married soon, — not to a poor man, but one who can give her a fitting position."
Presently Rex, with his arm in a sling, was on his two miles' walk to Offendene. He was rather puzzled by . the unconditional permission to see Gwendolen, but his father's real ground of action could not enter into his conjectures. If it had, he
TUE SPOILED CHILD. 103
would first have thought it horribly cold-blooded, and then have disbelieved in his father's conclusions.
When he got to the house, everybody was there but Gwendolen. The four girls, hearing him speak in the hall, rushed out of the library, which was their schoolroom, and hung round him with compassion- ate inquiries about his arm. Mrs. Davilow wanted to know exactly what had happened, and where the blacksmith lived, that she might make him a pre- sent; while Miss Merry, who took a subdued and melancholy part in all family affairs, doubted whether it would not be giving too much encouragement to that kind of character. Rex had never found the family troublesome before, but just now he wished them all away and Gwendolen there, and he was too uneasy for good-natured feigning. When at last he had said, " Where is Gwendolen ? " and Mrs. Davilow had told Alice to go and see if her sister were come down, adding, " I sent up her break- fast this morning ; she needed a long rest," — Rex took the shortest way out of his endurance by say- ing, almost impatiently, " Aunt, I want to speak to Gwendolen, — I want to see her alone."
"Very well, dear; go into the drawing-room. I will send her there," said Mrs. Davilow, who had observed that he was fond of being with Gwendolen, as was natural, but had not thought of this as hav- ing any bearing on the realities of life : it seemed merely part of the Christmas holidays which were spinning themselves out
Rex for his part felt that the realities of life were all hanging on this interview. He had to walk up and down the drawing-room in expectation for nearly ten minutes, — ample space for all imaginative fluc- tuations ; yet, strange to say, he was unvaryingly
104 DANIEL DERONDA,
occupied in thinking what and how much he could do, when Gwendolen had accepted him, to satisfy his father that the engagement was the most pru- dent thing in the world, since it inspired him with double energy for work. He was to be a lawyer, and what reason was there why he should not rise as high as Eldon did ? He was forced to look at life in the light of his father's mind.
But when the door opened and she whose pre- sence he was longing for entered, there came over him suddenly and mysteriously a state of tremor and distrust which he had never felt before. Miss Gwendolen, simple as she stood there, in her black silk, cut square about the round white pillar of her throat, a black band fastening her hair which streamed backwards in smooth silky abundance, seemed more queenly than usual. Perhaps it was that there was none of tlie latent fun and tricksi- ness which had always pierced in her greeting of Rex. How much of this was due to her presenti- ment from what he had said yesterday that he was going to talk of love ? How much from her desire to show regret about his accident ? Something of both. But the wisdom of ages has hinted that there is a side of the bed which has a malign influence if you happen to get out on it ; and this accident befalls some charming persons rather frequently. Perhaps it had befallen Gwendolen this morning. The hast- ening of her toilet, the way in which Bugle used the brush, the quality of the shilling serial mis- takenly written for her amusement, the probabilities of the coming day, and, in short, social institutions generally, were all objectionable to her. It was not that she was out of temper, but that the world was not equal to the demands of her fine organism.
THE SPOILED CHILD. 105
However it might be, Eex saw an awful majesty about her as she entered and put out her hand to him, without the least approach to a smile in eyes or mouth. The fun which had moved her in the evening had quite evaporated from the image of his accident, and the whole affair seemed stupid to her. But she said with perfect propriety, " I hope you are not much hurt, Rex ; I deserve that you should re- proach me for your accident."
" Not at all," said Eex, feeling the soul within him spreading itself like an attack of illness. "There is hardly anything the matter with me. I am so glad you had the pleasure : I would willingly pay for it by a tumble, only I was sorry to break the horse's knees."
Gwendolen walked to the hearth, and stood look- ing at the fire in the most inconvenient way for con- versation, so that he could only get a side view of her face.
" My father wants me to go to Southampton for the rest of the vacation," said Rex, his barytone trembling a little.
" Southampton ! That 's a stupid place to go to, is n't it ? " said Gwendolen, chilly.
" It would be to me, because you would not be there."
Silence. -^^
" Should you mind about my going away, Gwendolen ? "
" Of course. Every one is of consequence in this dreary country," said Gwendolen, curtly. The per- ception that poor Rex wanted to be tender made her curl up and harden like a sea-anemone at the touch of a finger.
" Are you angry with me, Gwendolen ? Why do
io6 DANIEL DERONDA.
you treat me in this way all at once ? " said Rex, flushing, and with more spirit in his voice, as if he too were capable of being angry.
Gwendolen looked round at him and smiled. " Treat you ? Nonsense I I am only rather cross. Why did you come so very early ? You must ex- pect to find tempers in dishabille."
" Be as cross with me as you like, — only don't treat me with indifference," said Rex, imploringly. " All the happiness of my life depends on your lov- ing me — if only a little — better than any one else."
He tried to take her hand, but she hastily eluded his grasp, and moved to the other end of the hearth, facing him.
" Pray don't make love to me ! I hate it" She looked at him fiercely.
Rex turned pale and was silent, but could not take his eyes off her, and the impetus was not yet exhausted that made hers dart death at him. Gwen- dolen herself could not have foreseen that she should feel in this way. It was all a sudden, new experi- ence to her. The day before she had been quite aware that her cousin was in love with her, — she did not mind how much, so that he said nothing about it; and if any one had asked her why she objected to love-making speeches, she would have said laughingly, " Oh, I am tired of them all in the books." But now the life of passion had begun negatively in her. She felt passionately averse to this volunteered love.
To Rex at twenty the joy of life seemed at an end more absolutely than it can do to a man at forty. But before they had ceased to look at each other, he did speak again.
THE SPOILED CHILD. 107
"Is that the last word you have to say to m^ Gwendolen ? Will it always be so ? "
She could not help seeing his wretchedness and feeling a little regret for the old Rex who had not offended her. Decisively, but yet with some return of kindliness, she said, —
" About making love ? Yes. But I don't dislike you for anything else/'
There was just a perceptible pause before he said a low "good-by," and passed out of the room. Almost immediately after, she heard the heavy hall-door bang behind him.
Mrs. Davilow, too, had heard Eex's hasty depar- ture, and presently came into the drawing-room, where she found Gwendolen seated on the low couch, her face buried, and her hair falling over her figure like a garment. She was sobbing bitterly. •* My child, my child, what is it ? " cried the mother, who had never before seen her darling struck down in this way, and felt something of the alarmed anguish that women feel at the sight of overpower- ing sorrow in a strong man ; for this child had been her ruler. Sitting down by her with circling arms, she pressed her cheek against Gwendolen's head, and then tried to draw it upward. Gwendolen gave way, and letting her head rest against her mother, cried out sobbingly, " Oh, mamma, what can become of my life ? there is nothing worth living for I "
" Why, dear ? " said Mrs Davilow. Usually she herself had been rebuked by her daughter for involuntary signs of despair.
"I shall never love anybody. I can't love people. I hate them."
" The time will come, dear, the time will come,"
Gwendolen was more and more convulsed with
io8 DANIEL DERONDA.
sobbing ; but, putting her arms round her mother's neck with an almost painful clinging, she said brokenly, " I can't bear any one to be very near me but you,"
Then the mother began to sob, for this spoiled child had never shown such dependence on her before; and so they clung to each other.
CHAPTER VIII.
" What name doth Joy most borrow When life is fair?
' To-morrow.'
" What name doth best fit Sorrow In jomig despair?
'To-morrow.' "
There was a much more lasting trouble at the Eec- tory. Rex arrived there only to throw himself on his bed in a state of apparent apathy, unbroken till the next day, when it began to be interrupted by more positive signs of illness. Nothing could be said about his going to Southampton : instead of that the chief thought of his mother and Anna was how to tend this patient who did not want to be well, and from being the brightest, most grateful spirit in the household, was metamorphosed into an irresponsive, dull-eyed creature who met all affectionate attempts with a murmur of "Let me alone." His father looked beyond the crisis, and believed it to be the shortest way out of an unlucky affair ; but he was sorry for the inevitable suffering, and went now and then to sit by him in silence for a few minutes, parting with a gentle pressure of his hand on Rex's blank brow, and a " God bless you, my boy." Warham and the younger children used to peep round the edge of the door to see this incredible thing of their lively brother being laid low ; but fingers were immediately shaken at them to drive them back. The guardian who was always there was Anna, and her little hand was allowed to
no DANIEL DERONDA.
rest within her brother's, though he never gave it a welcoming pressure. Her soul was divided between anguish for Eex and reproach of Gwendolen.
" Perhaps it is wicked of me, but I think I never can love her again," came as the recurrent burthen of poor little Anna's inward monody. And even Mrs. Gascoigne had an angry feeling towards her niece which she could not refrain from expressing (apologetically) to her husband.
" I know of course it is better, and we ought to be thankful that she is not in love with the poor boy ; but, really, Henry, I think she is hard : she has the heart of a coquette. I cannot help think- ing that she must have made him believe something, or the disappointment would not have taken hold of him in that way. And some blame attaches to poor Fanny ; she is quite blind about that girl. "
Mr. Gascoigne answered imperatively : " The less said on that point the better, Nancy. I ought to have been more awake myself. As to the boy, be thankful if nothing worse ever happens to him. Let the thing die out as quickly as possible ; and especially with regard to Gwendolen, — let it be as if it had never been."
The Rector's dominant feeling was that there had been a great escape. Gwendolen in love with Rex in return would have made a much harder problem, the solution of which might have been taken out of his hands. But he had to go through some further difficulty.
One fine morning Rex asked for his bath, and made his toilet as usual. Anna, full of excitement at this change, could do nothing but listen for his coming down, and at last hearing his step, ran to the foot of the stairs to meet him. For the first
THE SPOILED CHILD. m
time he gave her a faint smile, but it looked so melancholy on his pale face that she could hardly help crying.
" Nannie ! " he said gently, taking her hand and leading her slowly along with him to the drawing- room. His mother was there ; and when she came to kiss him, he said, " What a plague I am ! "
Then he sat still and looked out of the bow- window on the lawn and shrubs covered with hoar- frost, across which the sun was sending faint occasional gleams, — something like that sad smile on Eex's face, Anna thought. He felt as if he had had a resurrection into a new world, and did not know what to do with himself there, the old interests being left behind. Anna sat near him, pretending to work, but really watching him with yearning looks. Beyond the garden hedge there was a road where wagons and carts sometimes went on field-work : a railed opening was made in the hedge, because the upland with its bordering wood and clump of ash-trees against the sky was a pretty sight. Presently there came along a wagon laden with timber ; the horses were straining their grand muscles, and the driver, having cracked his whip, ran along anxiously to guide the leader's head, fearing a swerve. Eex seemed to be shaken into attention, rose and looked till the last quivering trunk of the timber had disappeared, and then walked once or twice along the room. Mrs. Gasr coigne was no longer there, and when he came to sit down again, Anna, seeing a return of speech in her brothers eyes, could not resist the impulse to bring a little stool and seat herself against his knee, looking up at him with an expression which seemed to say, " Do speak to me." And he spoke.
112 DANIEL DERONDA.
" I '11 tell you what I 'm thinking of, Nannie. I will go to Canada, or somewhere of that sort." (Rex had not studied the character of our colonial possessions.)
" Oh, Rex, not for always ! "
" Yes, to get my bread there. I should like to build a hut, and work hard at clearing, and have everything wild about me, and a great wide quiet."
"And not take me with you?" said Anna, the big tears coming fast.
« How could I ? "
" I should like it better than anything ; and settlers go with their families. I would sooner go there than stay here in England. I could make the fires, and mend the clothes, and cook the food ; and I could learn how to make the bread before we went. It would be nicer than anything — like playing at life over again, as we used to do when we made our tent with the drugget, and had our little plates and dishes."
" Father and mother would not let you go."
" Yes, I think they would, when I explained every- thing. It would save money ; and papa would have more to bring up the boys with."
There was further talk of the same practical kind at intervals, and it ended in Rex's being obliged to consent that Anna should go with him when he spoke to his father on the subject.
Of course it was when the Rector was alone in his study. Their mother would become reconciled to whatever he decided on ; but mentioned to her first, the question would have distressed her.
" Well, my children ! " said Mr. Gascoigne, cheer- fully, as they entered. It was a comfort to see Rex about again.
THE SPOILED CHILD. 113
" May we sit down with you a little, papa ? " said Anna, " Eex has something to say."
" With all my heart."
It was a noticeable group that these three crea- tures made, each of them with a face of the same structural type, — the straight brow, the nose sud- denly straightened from an intention of being aquiline, the short upper, lip, the short but strong and well-hung chin : there was even the same tone of complexion and set of the eye. The gray-haired father was at once massive and keen-looking ; there was a perpendicular line in his brow which when he spoke with any force of interest deepened; and the habit of ruling gave him an air of reserved authoritativeness. Rex would have seemed a vision of the father's youth, if it had been possible to imagine Mr. Gascoigne without distinct plans and without command, smitten with a heart sorrow, and having no more notion of concealment than a sick animal; and Anna was a tiny copy of Rex, with hair drawn back and knotted, her face following his in its changes of expression, as if they had one soul between them.
" You know all about what has upset me, father," Rex began ; and Mr. Gascoigne nodded.
" I am quite done up for life in this part of the world. I am sure it will be no use my going back to Oxford. I could n't do any reading. I should fail, and cause you expense for nothing. I want to have your consent to take another course, sir."
Mr. Gascoigne nodded more slowly, the perpen- dicular line on his brow deepened, and Anna's trembling increasedo
" If you would allow me a small outfit, I should like to go to the colonies and work on, the land
VOL. I. — 8
114 DANIEL DERONDA.
there." Eex thought the vagueness of the phrase prudential ; " the colonies " necessarily embracing more advantages, and being less capable of being rebutted on a single ground than any particular settlement
" Oh, and with me, papa," said Anna, not bearing to be left out from the proposal even temporarily. " Kex would want some one to take care of him, you know, — some one to keep house. And we shall never, either of us, be married. And I should cost nothing, and I should be so happy. I know it would be hard to leave you and mamma ; but there are all the others to bring up, and we two should be no trouble to you any more."
Anna had risen from her seat, and used the femi- nine argument of going closer to her papa as she spoke. He did not smile, but he drew her on his knee and held her there, as if to put her gently out of the question while he spoke to Rex.
"You will admit that my experience gives me some power of judging for you, and that I can prob- ably guide you in practical matters better than you can guide yourself ? "
Rex was obliged to say, " Yes, sir."
"And perhaps you will admit — though I don't wish to press that point — that you are bound in duty to consider my judgment and wishes?"
" I have never yet placed myself in opposition to you, sir." Rex in his secret soul could not feel that he was bound not to go to the colonies, but to go to Oxford again, — which was the point in question.
" But you will do so if you persist in setting your mind towards a rash and foolish procedure, and deafening yourself to considerations which my expe- rience of life assures me of. You think, I suppose,
THE SPOILED CHILD. 115
that you have had a shock which has changed all your inclinations, stupefied your brains, unfitted you for anything but manual labour, and given you a dislike to society ? Is that what you believe ? "
" Something like that. I shall never be up to the sort of work I must do to live in this part of the world. I have not the spirit for it. I shall never be the same again. And without any disrespect to you, father, I think a young fellow should be allowed to choose his way of life, if he does nobody any harm. There are plenty to stay at home, and those who like might be allowed to go where there are empty places."
" But suppose I am convinced on good evidence — as I am — that this state of mind of yours is tran- sient, and that if you went off as you propose, you would by and by repent, and feel that you had let yourself slip back from the point you have been gaining by your education till now ? Have you not strength of mind enough to see that you had better act on my assurance for a time, and test it ? In my opinion, so far from agreeing with you that you should be free to turn yoilrself into a colonist and work in your shirt-sleeves with spade and hatchet — in my opinion you have no right whatever to expatriate yourself until you have honestly endeav- oured to turn to account the education you have received here. I say nothing of the grief to your mother and me."
"I'm very sorry; but what can I do? I can't study, — that 's certain," said Kex.
" Not just now, perhaps. You will have to miss a term. I have made arrangements for you, — how you are to spend the next two months. But I con- fess I am disappointed in you, Rex. I thought you
Ii6 DANIEL DERONDA.
had more sense than to take up such ideas, — to suppose that because you have fallen into a very common trouble, such as most men have to go through, you are loosened from all bonds of duty, — just as if your brain had softened and you were no longer a responsible being "
What could Kex say ? Inwardly he was in a state of rebellion, but he had no arguments to meet his father's ; and while he was feeling, in spite of anything that might be said, that he should like to go off to " the colonies " to-morrow, it lay in a deep fold of his consciousness that he ought to feel — if he had been a better fellow he would have felt — more about his old ties. This is the sort of faith we live by in our soul-sicknesses.
Rex got up from his seat, as if he held the con- ference to be at an end. " You assent to my arrangement, then ? " said Mr. Gascoigne, with that distinct resolution of tone which seems to hold one in a vice.
There was a little pause before Rex answered, " 1 11 try what I can do, sir. I can't promise." His thought was that trying would be of no use.
Her father kept Anna, holding her fast, though she wanted to follow Rex. " Oh, papa," she said, the tears coming with her words when the door had closed; "it is very hard for him. Does n't he look ill?"
" Yes, but he will soon be better ; it will all blow over. And now, Anna, be as quiet as a mouse about it all. Never let it be mentioned when he is gone."
" No, papa. But I would not be like Gwendolen for anything, — to have people fall in love with me 80. It is very dreadful."
Anna dared not say that she was disappointed at
THE SPOILED CHILD. n;
not being allowed to go to tlie colonies with Eex ; but that was her secret feeling, and she often after- wards went inwardly over the whole affair, saying to herself, " I should have done with going out, and gloves, and crinoline, and having to talk when I am taken to dinner — and all that ! "
I like to mark the time, and connect the course of individual lives with the historic stream, for all classes of thinkers. Tliis was the period when the broadening of gauge in crinolines seemed to demand an agitation for the general enlargement of churches, ball-rooms, and vehicles. But Anna Gascoigne's figure would only allow the size of skirt manufactured for young ladies of fourteen.
CHAPTER IX.
^l't\ tell thee, Berthold, what men's hopes are like* A silly child that, quiveriug with joy, Would cast its little mimic fishing-line Baited with loadstone for a bowl of toys jn the salt ocean."
Eight months after the arrival of the family at Oftendene, that is to say, in the end of the follow- ing June, a rumour was spread in the neighbourhood which to many persons was matter of exciting interest. It had no reference to the results of the American war, but it was one which touched all classes within a certain circuit round Wanches- ter : the corn-factors, the brewers, the horse-dealers, and saddlers, all held it a laudable thing, and one which was to be rejoiced in on abstract grounds, as showing the value of an aristocracy in a free country like England ; the blacksmith in the hamlet of Diplow felt that a good time had come round ; the wives of labouring men hoped their nimble boys of ten or twelve would be taken into employ by the gentlemen in livery ; and the farmers about Diplow admitted, with a tincture of bitterness and reserve, that a man might now again perhaps have an easier market or exchange for a rick of old hay or a wagon- load of straw. If such were the hopes of low persons not in society, it may be easily inferred that their betters had better reasons for satisfaction, probably connected with the pleasures of life rather than its business. Marriage, however, must be considered as coming under both heads ; and just as when a visit
THE SPOILED CHILD. 119
of majesty is announced, the dream of knighthood or a baronetcy is to be found under various muni- cipal nightcaps, so the news in question raised a floating indeterminate vision of marriage in several well-bred imaginations.
The news was that Diplow Hall, Sir Hugo Mal- linger's place, which had for a couple of years turned its white window- shutters in a painfully wall-eyed manner on its fine elms and beeches, its lilied pool and grassy acres specked with deer, was being prepared for a tenant, and was for the rest of the summer and through the hunting season to be inhabited in a fitting style both as to house and stable. But not by Sir Hugo himself: by his nephew Mr. Mallinger Grandcourt, who was presump- tive heir to the baronetcy, his uncle's marriage having produced nothing but girls. Nor was this the only contingency with which fortune flattered young Grandcourt, as he was pleasantly called ; for while the chance of the baronetcy came through his father, his mother had given a baronial streak to his blood, so that if certain intervening persons slightly painted in the middle distance died, he would become a baron and peer of this realm.
It is the uneven allotment of nature that the male bird alone has the tuft, but we have not yet followed the advice of hasty philosophers who would have us copy nature entirely in these matters ; and if Mr. Mallinger Grandcourt became a baronet or a peer, his wife would share the title, — which in addition to his actual fortune was certainly a reason why that wife, being at present unchosen, should be thought of by more than one person with sympathetic interest as a woman sure to be well provided for.
120 DANIEL DERONDiL
Some readers of tliis history will doubtless regard it as incredible that people should construct mat- rimonial prospects on the mere report that a bachelor of good fortune and possibilities was coming within reach, and will reject the statement as a mere outflow of gall : they will aver that neither they nor their first cousins have minds so unbridled ; and that in fact this is not human nature, which would know that such speculations might turn out to be fallacious, and would therefore