"But you love your other children, and they love you?"


Book 7 - THE MOTHER AND THE SON | Chapter 53


"Oh, yes," she answered, as to a question about a matter of course, while she folded her arms again.


"But,"----she added in a deeper tone,----"I am not a loving woman.


Others have loved me--and I have acted their love.


I know very well what love makes of men and women--it is subjection.

I know what love makes of men and women - it is subjection.


It takes another for a larger self, enclosing this one,"--she pointed to her own bosom.


"I was never willingly subject to any man.


"Perhaps the man who was subject was the happier of the two," said Deronda--not with a smile, but with a grave, sad sense of his mother's privation.


"Perhaps--but I _was_ happy--for a few years I was happy.


If I had not been afraid of defeat and failure, I might have gone on.


Men talk of 'another life,' as if it only began on the other side of the grave.


With the last words she raised her arms till they were bare to the elbow, her brow was contracted in one deep fold, her eyes were closed, her voice was smothered: in her dusky flame-colored garment, she looked like a dreamed visitant from some region of departed mortals.

Her eyes were closed, her voice was smothered: in her dusky flame-coloured garment, she looked like a visitant from some land of the dead.


Deronda's feeling was wrought to a pitch of acuteness in which he was no longer quite master of himself.

Deronda was no longer quite master of himself.


His mother opened her eyes, and letting her hands again rest on his shoulders, said,


He clasped his arms round her neck, and they kissed each other.


Deronda did not know how he got out of the room.


All his boyish yearnings and anxieties about his mother had vanished.

All his boyish yearnings about his mother had vanished.


He had gone through a tragic experience which must forever solemnize his life and deepen the significance of the acts by which he bound himself to others.

He had gone through a tragic experience which must forever solemnize his life.


"Her wit Values itself so highly, that to her All matter else seems weak."


Gwendolen's reception in the neighborhood fulfilled her uncle's expectations.

Gwendolen's reception in the neighbourhood fulfilled her uncle's expectations.


From Brackenshaw 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.

She was welcomed with admiration, and even those ladies who did not quite like her felt a comfort in having a new, striking girl to invite to their parties.


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 everywhere in request for his own sake.

In addition, Mrs. Davilow always made a quiet, picturesque figure as a chaperon, and Mr. Gascoigne was everywhere in demand 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 introduction for her to the society of the neighborhood; for in a select party of thirty and of well-composed proportions as to age, few visitable families could be entirely left out.

One of her first invitations was to a large dinner-party there, which introduced her to the society of the neighbourhood.


No youthful figure there was comparable to Gwendolen's as she passed through 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.

No figure there compared to Gwendolen's as she passed through the long suite of rooms adorned with light and flowers. Visible at first as a slim figure floating in white drapery, she approached through one wide doorway after another into fuller illumination.


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.

She had never had that sort of promenade before, and she felt exultingly that it befitted her: while her cousin Anna felt as embarrassed as a rabbit suddenly deposited in that well-lit-space.


said the archdeacon, neglecting a discussion of military manoeuvres 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?"

"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.

But to some onlookers, it was rather exasperating to see how Gwendolen eclipsed others, including Miss Arrowpoint, unfortunately also dressed in white.


Since Miss Arrowpoint was generally liked for the amiable unpretending way in which she wore her fortunes, and made a softening screen for the oddities of her mother, there seemed to be some unfitness in Gwendolen's looking so much more like a person of social importance.

Since Miss Arrowpoint was generally liked for the amiable unpretending way in which she wore her fortunes, and softened the oddities of her mother, it did not seem fitting for Gwendolen to look so much more important.


"She is not really so handsome if you come to examine her features," said Mrs. Arrowpoint, later in the evening, confidentially to Mrs. Vulcany.

"She is not really so handsome," 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 afterward she is less agreeable."

"She has a certain style, which produces a great effect at first, but afterward she is less agreeable."


In fact, Gwendolen, not intending it, but intending the contrary, had offended her hostess, who, though not a splenetic or vindictive woman, had her susceptibilities.

In fact, Gwendolen had unintentionally offended her hostess.


Several conditions had met in the Lady of Quetcham which to the reasoners in that neighborhood seemed to have an essential connection with each other.


It was occasionally 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 squat figure, a harsh parrot-like voice, and a high head-dress; and since these points made her appear rather ridiculous, it seemed only natural that she should have 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 compatible 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 toward 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 inclined to show.

Gwendolen, who was kindly disposed toward anyone who could make life agreeable to her, meant to win Mrs. Arrowpoint by showing her more interest and attention than other people were likely to.


But self-confidence is apt to address itself to an imaginary dullness 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.

But self-confidence is apt to imagine dullness in others; as people who are well off speak in a cajoling tone to the poor, and the young raise their voice and talk artificially to seniors, assuming them to be deaf and slow.


Gwendolen, with all her cleverness and purpose to be agreeable, could not escape that form of stupidity: it followed in her mind, unreflectingly, 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 behavior were all noted.

Gwendolen, with all her cleverness, could not escape that form of stupidity: she thought, unreflectingly, that because Mrs. Arrowpoint was ridiculous she was also likely to be lacking in penetration, and she went through her little scenes without suspicion that her behaviour was 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--tete_ in the drawing-room after dinner.

"You are fond of books, I hear," Mrs. Arrowpoint said to her after dinner.


"Catherine will be very glad to have so sympathetic a neighbor."

"Catherine will be very glad to have so sympathetic a neighbour."


This little speech might have seemed the most graceful politeness, spoken in a low, melodious tone; but with a twang, fatally loud, it gave Gwendolen a sense of exercising patronage when she answered, gracefully:

This little speech might have seemed gracefully polite if spoken in a low, melodious tone; but with a twang, fatally loud, it gave Gwendolen a sense of exercising patronage when she answered:


Miss Arrowpoint will teach me what good music is.


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 compositions.

We have a first-rate musician in the house - Herr Klesmer; perhaps you know his compositions.


You must allow me to introduce him to you.


Catherine plays three instruments, but she does not sing.


I understand you are an accomplished singer."


"Oh, no!--'die Kraft ist schwach, allein die Lust ist gross,' as Mephistopheles says."

"Oh, no! - 'die Kraft ist schwach, allein die Lust ist gross,' as Mephistopheles says."


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.

There is nothing readable in the library at Offendene; the books


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 instead of reading other people's!


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,

For an instant Mrs. Arrowpoint's glance was a little sharper, but Gwendolen appeared more simple than satirical when she added,


"I would give anything to write a book!"


Pen, ink, and paper are at everybody's command.

"Pen and paper are at everybody's command.


But I will send you all I have written with pleasure."


I shall be so glad to read your writings.


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.

Knowing authors must give a special 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 Shakespeare, you know, and other great writers that we can never see.

Here Gwendolen became aware of danger, and added quickly, "In Shakespeare, you know, and other great writers.


But I always want to know more than there is in the books."


"If you are interested in any of my subjects I can lend you many extra sheets in manuscript," said Mrs. Arrowpoint--while Gwendolen felt herself painfully in the position of the young lady who professed to like potted sprats.

"If you are interested in any of my subjects I can lend you many extra sheets in manuscript," said Mrs. Arrowpoint - while Gwendolen felt herself painfully in the position of the young lady who pretended to like potted sprats.


"These are things I dare say I shall publish eventually: several friends have urged me to do so, and one doesn't like to be obstinate.


My Tasso, for example--I could have made it twice the size."


"Well, you shall have all my papers, if you like.

"Well, you shall have my papers, if you like.


So many, you know, have written about Tasso; but they are all wrong.


As to the particular 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.

as to the nature of his madness, and his feelings for Leonora, they are all wrong.


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.

This speech renewed a slight suspicion in Mrs. Arrowpoint.


But Gwendolen looked very innocent, and continued with a docile air:


"I know nothing of Tasso except the _Gerusalemme Liberata_, which we read and learned by heart at school."

"I know nothing of Tasso except the Gerusalemme Liberata, which we read 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.

"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 much that must be true."


"Imagination is often truer than fact," said 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 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?"


"I suppose some of them rolled their eyes in private.


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 _navet_.

Again a shade flitted over Mrs. Arrowpoint's face; but then the gentlemen came in.


"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.

"Ah, here is Herr Klesmer," said Mrs. Arrowpoint, rising; and introducing him to Gwendolen, she left them together. Herr Klesmer had a happy combination of German, Slav and Semitic looks, with grand features, brown hair floating in artistic fashion, and brown eyes in spectacles.


His English had little foreignness except its fluency; and his alarming cleverness was made less formidable just then by a certain softening air of silliness which will sometimes befall even Genius in the desire of being agreeable to Beauty.

His English had little foreignness; and his alarming cleverness was made less formidable by a softening air of silliness which will sometimes befall even Genius in the desire of being agreeable to Beauty.


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 the neutral, placid-faced Miss Arrowpoint had a mastery of the instrument which put her own execution out of question--though she was not discouraged as to her often-praised touch and style.

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 the placid-faced Miss Arrowpoint had a mastery of the instrument which put her own performance out of the question.


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 married Miss Cuttler and imported the best cigars; and he led her to the piano with easy politeness.

After this everyone became anxious to hear Gwendolen sing; and Mr. Arrowpoint led her to the piano.


Herr Klesmer closed the instrument in readiness for her, and smiled with pleasure at her approach; then placed himself at a distance of a few feet so that he could see her as she sang.

Herr Klesmer smiled with pleasure at her approach; then placed himself a few feet away so that he could see her as she sang.


Gwendolen was not nervous; what she undertook to do she did without trembling, and singing was an enjoyment to her.

Gwendolen was not nervous: she enjoyed singing.


Her voice was a moderately 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.

Her voice was a moderately powerful soprano, 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 prettier when she was singing than at other times, and that Herr Klesmer was in front of her seemed not disagreeable.

She had the rare advantage of looking almost prettier when she was singing than at other times, and to have Herr Klesmer in front of her was not disagreeable.


Her song, determined on beforehand, was a favorite aria of Belini's, in which she felt quite sure of herself.

Her song was an aria of Bellini's, in which she felt quite sure of herself.


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.

said Mr. Arrowpoint, and the word was echoed around the room.


But Herr Klesmer stood like a statue--if a statue can be imagined in spectacles; at least, he was as mute as a statue.

But Herr Klesmer stood as mute as a statue.


Gwendolen was pressed to keep her seat and double the general pleasure, and she did not wish to refuse; but before resolving to do so, she moved a little toward Herr Klesmer, saying with a look of smiling appeal, "It would be too cruel to a great musician.

Gwendolen was pressed to sing again, and she did not wish to refuse; but first she said to Herr Klesmer, with a smiling appeal, "It would be cruel to a great musician.


You cannot like to hear poor amateur singing."


"No, truly; but that makes nothing," said Herr Klesmer, 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 strongest brogue when they are fervid or quarrelsome.

"No, truly; but that makes nothing," said Herr Klesmer, suddenly speaking in an odious German fashion with staccato endings, just as Irishmen resume their strongest brogue when they are agitated.


It is always acceptable to see you sing."


Was there ever so unexpected an assertion of superiority--at least before the late Teutonic conquest?

Was there ever so unexpected an assertion of superiority?


Gwendolen colored deeply, but, with her usual presence of mind, did not show an ungraceful 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 conspicuously admiring than was quite consistent with good taste), now with the utmost tact and kindness came close to her and said,

Gwendolen coloured deeply, but, with her usual presence of mind, did not show an ungraceful resentment by moving away immediately; and Miss Arrowpoint, who had been near enough to overhear (and also to see that Herr Klesmer was looking at Gwendolen with more conspicuous admiration than was quite consistent with good taste), now with the utmost tact and kindness came up 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."

One can bear it when everyone else is admiring."


"I should be very much obliged to him for telling me the worst," said Gwendolen, recovering herself.


"I dare say I have been extremely ill taught, in addition to having no talent--only liking for music."

, answered, "I dare say I have been extremely ill 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.

You sing in tune, and you have a pretty fair voice.


But you produce your notes badly; and that music which you sing is beneath you.

But you produce your notes badly; and that dawdling, see-saw kind of music is beneath you.


It is a form of melody which expresses a puerile state of culture--a dawdling, canting, 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 passion--no conflict--no sense of the universal.

There is a self-satisfied folly about such melody; no deep, mysterious passion - no conflict - no sense of the universal.


It makes men small as they listen to it.


"Oh, not now--by-and-by," said Gwendolen, with a sinking of heart at the sudden width of horizon opened round her small musical performance.

"Oh, not now. By-and-by," said Gwendolen, with a sinking heart.


For a 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."

We will ask him to play to us now: he will 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 and depth of passion out of the piano as that moderately responsive instrument lends itself to, having an imperious magic in his fingers that seem to send a nerve-thrill through ivory key and wooden hammer, and compel the strings to make a quivering lingering speech for him.

To be quite safe on this point Herr Klesmer played a composition of his own; and he certainly fetched as much passion out of the piano as that instrument lends itself to, having an imperious magic in his fingers that drew a quivering lingering speech from the strings.


Gwendolen, in spite of her wounded egoism, had fullness of nature enough to feel the power of this playing, and it gradually turned her inward sob of mortification into an excitement 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 somebody else.

Gwendolen, despite her wounded egoism, could feel the power of this playing, and it gradually turned her mortification into an excitement which lifted her for the moment into a desperate indifference to her own shortcomings, or at least a determination to laugh at them.


Her eyes had become brighter, her cheeks slightly flushed, and her tongue ready for any mischievous remarks.

Her eyes had become brighter, her cheeks flushed, and her tongue ready for any mischief.


"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 wish you would sing to us again, Miss Harleth," said Clintock, the Archdeacon's son, 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.


but I could listen to your singing all day."


"Yes, we should be glad of something popular now--another song from you would be a relaxation," said Mrs. Arrowpoint, who had also come near with polite intentions.

"Yes, we should be glad of something popular now - another song from you would be a relaxation," said Mrs. Arrowpoint politely.


"That must be because you are in a puerile state of culture, and have no breadth of horizon.

"That must be because you have no breadth of horizon.


I have been taught how bad my taste is, and am feeling growing pains.

I have just been taught how bad my taste is, and am feeling growing pains.


They are never pleasant," said Gwendolen, not taking any notice of Mrs. Arrowpoint, and looking up with a bright smile at young Clintock.

They are never pleasant," said Gwendolen, ignoring Mrs. Arrowpoint, and smiling at young Clintock.


Mrs. Arrowpoint was not insensible to this rudeness, but merely said, "Well, we will not press anything disagreeably," and as there was a perceptible outburst of imprisoned conversation just then, and a movement of guests seeking each other, she remained seated where she was, and looked around her with the relief of a hostess at finding she is not needed.

Mrs. Arrowpoint was not insensible to this rudeness, but merely said, "Well, we will not press you."


"I am glad you like this neighborhood," said young Clintock, well-pleased with his station in front of Gwendolen.

"I am glad you like this neighbourhood," said young Clintock, well-pleased to be with Gwendolen.


There seems to be a little of everything and not much of anything."

There seems to be a little of everything, and not too much of anything.


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 dialogue, perceived quite a new tone in Gwendolen's speech, and felt a revival of doubt as to her interest 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 croquet club.


But depend upon it croquet is the game of the future.


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."


"No, no, not that; but do take to croquet.


I will send you Jenning's poem if you like.


"Oh, if he is only rather, I think I will decline.


Or, if you send it to 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.

"Decidedly," Mrs. Arrowpoint thought, "this girl is satirical.


But Gwendolen, nevertheless, continued to receive polite attentions from the family at Quetcham, not merely because invitations have larger grounds than those of personal liking, but because the trying little scene at the piano had awakened a kindly solicitude toward her in the gentle mind of Miss Arrowpoint, who managed all the invitations and visits, her mother being otherwise occupied.

But Gwendolen, nevertheless, continued to receive polite attentions from the family at Quetcham; the trying scene at the piano had awakened a kindly solicitude toward her in the gentle mind of Miss Arrowpoint, who managed all the invitations and visits, her mother being otherwise occupied.


With powdered lacquey and with charming bay; She sweeps the matting, treads the crimson stair.


Her arduous function solely "to be there."


So the Grandcourts were in Grosvenor Square in time to receive a card for the musical party at Lady Mallinger's, there being reasons of business which made Sir Hugo know beforehand that his ill-beloved nephew was coming up.

The Grandcourts were in Grosvenor Square in time to receive a card for the musical party at Lady Mallinger's.


It was only the third evening after their arrival, and Gwendolen made rather an absent-minded acquaintance with her new ceilings and furniture, preoccupied with the certainty that she was going to speak to Deronda again, and also to see the Miss Lapidoth who had gone through so much, and was "capable of submitting to anything in the form of duty."

It was only the third evening after their arrival, and Gwendolen made rather an absent-minded acquaintance with her new ceilings and furniture, preoccupied with the certainty that she was going to speak to Deronda again, and also to see the Miss Lapidoth who had gone through so much, and was "capable of submitting to any duty."


For Gwendolen had remembered nearly every word that Deronda had said about Mirah, and especially that phrase, which she repeated to herself bitterly, having an ill-defined consciousness that her own submission was something very different.

For Gwendolen remembered nearly every word that Deronda had said about Mirah, and repeated that phrase to herself bitterly, conscious that her own submission was very different.


She would have been obliged to allow, if any one had said it to her, that what she submitted to could not take the shape of duty, but was submission to a yoke drawn on her by an action she was ashamed of, and worn with a strength of selfish motives that left no weight for duty to carry.

What she submitted to was not duty, but a yoke laid on her by an action she was ashamed of, and worn with selfish motives.


The drawing-rooms in Park Lane, all white, gold, and pale crimson, were agreeably furnished, and not crowded with guests, before Mr. and Mrs. Grandcourt entered; and more than half an hour of instrumental music was being followed by an interval of movement and chat.

The drawing-rooms in Park Lane, white, gold, and pale crimson, were not crowded when Mr. and Mrs. Grandcourt entered. Half an hour of instrumental music was being followed by an interval of movement and chat.


Klesmer was there with his wife, and in his generous interest for Mirah he proposed to accompany her singing of Leo's "_O patria mia_," which he had before recommended her to choose, as more distinctive of her than better known music.

Klesmer was there with his wife, and he generously proposed to accompany Mirah's singing of Leo's "O patria mia."


He was already at the piano, and Mirah was standing there conspicuously, when Gwendolen, magnificent in her pale green velvet and poisoned diamonds, was ushered to a seat of honor well in view of them.

He was already at the piano, and Mirah was standing there, when Gwendolen, magnificent in her pale green velvet and poisoned diamonds, was ushered to a seat of honour well in view of them.


With her long sight and self-command she had the rare power of quickly distinguishing persons and objects on entering a full room, and while turning her glance toward Mirah she did not neglect to exchange a bow with Klesmer as she passed.

While turning her glance toward Mirah, she did not neglect to exchange a bow with Klesmer as she passed.


The smile seemed to each a lightning-flash back on that morning when it had been her ambition to stand as the "little Jewess" was standing, and survey a grand audience from the higher rank of her talent--instead of which she was one of the ordinary crowd in silk and gems, whose utmost performance it must be to admire or find fault.

The smile seemed to each to flash back to that morning when it had been her ambition to stand as the "little Jewess" was standing - instead of which she was one of the ordinary crowd in silk and gems, whose performance must be to admire or find fault.


"He thinks I am in the right road now," said the lurking resentment within her.


Gwendolen had not caught sight of Deronda in her passage, and while she was seated acquitting herself in chat with Sir Hugo, she glanced round her with careful ease, bowing a recognition here and there, and fearful lest an anxious-looking exploration in search of Deronda might be observed by her husband, and afterward rebuked as something "damnably vulgar."

Gwendolen had not seen Deronda, and while she was seated in chat with Sir Hugo, she glanced round her with careful ease, bowing a recognition here and there, and fearful lest a search for Deronda might be observed by her husband, and afterward rebuked as "damnably vulgar."


But all traveling, even that of a slow gradual glance round a room, brings a liability to undesired encounters, and amongst the eyes that met Gwendolen's, forcing her into a slight bow, were those of the "amateur too fond of Meyerbeer," Mr. Lush, whom Sir Hugo continued to find useful as a half-caste among gentlemen.

Amongst the eyes that met Gwendolen's, forcing her into a slight bow, were those of Mr. Lush,


He was standing near her husband, who, however, turned a shoulder toward him, and was being understood to listen to Lord Pentreath.


How was it that at this moment, for the first time, there darted through Gwendolen, like a disagreeable sensation, the idea that this man knew all about her husband's life?

At this moment, for the first time, there darted through Gwendolen the disagreeable idea that this man knew all about her husband's life.


He had been banished from her sight, according to her will, and she had been satisfied; he had sunk entirely into the background of her thoughts, screened away from her by the agitating figures that kept up an inward drama in which Lush had no place.

When banished from her sight, he had sunk into the background of her thoughts;


Here suddenly he reappeared at her husband's elbow, and there sprang up in her, like an instantaneously fabricated memory in a dream, the sense of his being connected with the secrets that made her wretched.

but now there sprang up in her, like an instantaneously fabricated memory in a dream, the sense of his being connected with the secrets that made her wretched.


She was conscious of effort in turning her head away from him, trying to continue her wandering survey as if she had seen nothing of more consequence than the picture on the wall, till she discovered Deronda.

With an effort she turned her head away from him, trying to continue her survey with an indifferent manner, till she discovered Deronda.


But he was not looking toward her, and she withdrew her eyes from him, without having got any recognition, consoling herself with the assurance that he must have seen her come in.

But he was not looking toward her, and she withdrew her eyes, consoling herself with the assurance that he must have seen her come in.


In fact, he was not standing far from the door with Hans Meyrick, whom he had been careful to bring into Lady Mallinger's list.


They were both a little more anxious than was comfortable lest Mirah should not be heard to advantage.

; and they were both anxious that Mirah should be heard to advantage.


Deronda even felt himself on the brink of betraying emotion, Mirah's presence now being linked with crowding images of what had gone before and was to come after--all centering in the brother he was soon to reveal to her; and he had escaped as soon as he could from the side of Lady Pentreath, who had said in her violoncello voice,

Deronda felt on the brink of betraying emotion. He had escaped as soon as he could from Lady Pentreath, who had said in her deep voice-


"Well, your Jewess is pretty--there's no denying that.

"Well, your Jewess is pretty - there's no denying that.


I suppose she learned that on the stage."


He was beginning to feel on Mirah's behalf something of what he had felt for himself in his seraphic boyish time, when Sir Hugo asked him if he would like to be a great singer--an indignant dislike to her being remarked on in a free and easy way, as if she were an imported commodity disdainfully paid for by the fashionable public, and he winced the more because Mordecai, he knew, would feel that the name "Jewess" was taken as a sort of stamp like the lettering of Chinese silk.

He was beginning to feel on Mirah's behalf what he had felt as a boy, when Sir Hugo asked him if he would like to be a great singer - an indignant dislike to her being remarked on in a free and easy way, as if she were a commodity disdainfully paid for by the fashionable public.


In this susceptible mood he saw the Grandcourts enter, and was immediately appealed to by Hans about "that Vandyke duchess of a beauty."


Pray excuse Deronda that in this moment he felt a transient renewal of his first repulsion from Gwendolen, as if she and her beauty and her failings were to blame for the undervaluing of Mirah as a woman--a feeling something like class animosity, which affection for what is not fully recognized by others, whether in persons or in poetry, rarely allows us to escape.

Deronda felt a momentary renewal of his first repulsion from Gwendolen, as if she and her beauty and her failings were to blame for the undervaluing of Mirah.


To Hans admiring Gwendolen with his habitual hyperbole, he answered, with a sarcasm that was not quite good-natured,


"I thought you could admire no style of woman but your Berenice."


"That is the style I worship--not admire," said Hans.

"That is the style I worship - not admire," said Hans.


"Other styles of women I might make myself wicked for, but for Berenice I could make myself--well, pretty good, which is something much more difficult."

"Other styles of women I might make myself wicked for, but for Berenice I could make myself - well, pretty good, which is much more difficult."


"Hush," said Deronda, under the pretext that the singing was going to begin.

"Hush," said Deronda, for the singing was going to begin.


He was not so delighted with the answer as might have been expected, and was relieved by Hans's movement to a more advanced spot.


Deronda had never before heard Mirah sing "_O patria mia_."

He had never before heard Mirah sing "O patria mia."


He knew well Leopardi's fine Ode to Italy (when Italy sat like a disconsolate mother in chains, hiding her face on her knees and weeping), and the few selected words were filled for him with the grandeur of the whole, which seemed to breathe an inspiration through the music.

He knew well Leopardi's fine Ode to Italy (when Italy sat like a disconsolate mother in chains, hiding her face and weeping), and the words were filled for him with an inspiring grandeur.


Mirah singing this, made Mordecai more than ever one presence with her.


Certain words not included in the song nevertheless rang within Deronda as harmonies from the invisible,


L'armi, qua l'armi: io solo Combatter, procomber sol io"-- [Footnote: Do none of thy children defend thee?


they seemed the very voice of that heroic passion which is falsely said to devote itself in vain when it achieves the god-like end of manifesting unselfish love.


And that passion was present to Deronda now as the vivid image of a man dying helplessly away from the possibility of battle.


While the general applause was sounding, Klesmer gave a more valued testimony, audible to her only--"Good, good--the crescendo better than before."

During the general applause, Klesmer gave a more valued testimony, audible to her only- "Good, good - the crescendo better than before."


But her chief anxiety was to know that she had satisfied Mr. Deronda: any failure on her part this evening would have pained her as an especial injury to him.

But her chief anxiety was to know that she had satisfied Mr. Deronda.


Of course all her prospects were due to what he had done for her; still, this occasion of singing in the house that was his home brought a peculiar demand.


She looked toward him in the distance, and he saw that she did; but he remained where he was, and watched the streams of emulous admirers closing round her, till presently they parted to make way for Gwendolen, who was taken up to be introduced by Mrs. Klesmer.

She looked toward him in the distance; but he remained where he was, while streams of admirers closed round her.
Gwendolen was taken up to be introduced by Mrs. Klesmer.


Easier now about "the little Jewess," Daniel relented toward poor Gwendolen in her splendor, and his memory went back, with some penitence for his momentary hardness, over all the signs and confessions that she too needed a rescue, and one much more difficult than that of the wanderer by the river--a rescue for which he felt himself helpless.

Easier now about "the little Jewess," Daniel relented toward poor Gwendolen in her splendour, and his memory went back over all the confessions that she too needed a rescue, and one much more difficult than that of the wanderer by the river - a rescue for which he felt himself helpless.


The silent question--"But is it not cowardly to make that a reason for turning away?"


was the form in which he framed his resolve to go near her on the first opportunity, and show his regard for her past confidence, in spite of Sir Hugo's unwelcome hints.

from her, but to show his regard for her past confidences at the first opportunity, in spite of Sir Hugo's hints.


Klesmer, having risen to Gwendolen as she approached, and being included by her in the opening conversation with Mirah, continued near them a little while, looking down with a smile, which was rather in his eyes than on his lips, at the piquant contrast of the two charming young creatures seated on the red divan.

Klesmer stood near Gwendolen and Mirah for a little while, smiling at the piquant contrast of the two charming young creatures seated on the red divan.


The solicitude seemed to be all on the side of the splendid one.


"You must let me say how much I am obliged to you," said Gwendolen.

"I must say how much I am obliged to you," said Gwendolen to Mirah.


"I had heard from Mr. Deronda that I should have a great treat in your singing, but I was too ignorant to imagine how great."


"You are very good to say so," answered Mirah, her mind chiefly occupied in contemplating Gwendolen.

"You are very good to say so," answered Mirah, contemplating


It was like a new kind of stage-experience to her to be close to genuine grand ladies with genuine brilliants and complexions, and they impressed her vaguely as coming out of some unknown drama, in which their parts perhaps got more tragic as they went on.

this genuine grand lady with genuine jewels.


"We shall all want to learn of you--I, at least," said Gwendolen.

"We shall all want to learn of you - I, at least," said Gwendolen.


"I sing very badly, as Herr Klesmer will tell you,"--here she glanced upward to that higher power rather archly, and continued--"but I have been rebuked for not liking to be middling, since I can be nothing more.

"I sing very badly, as Herr Klesmer will tell you,"- here she glanced at him rather archly.


I think that is a different doctrine from yours?"


She was still looking at Klesmer, who said quickly,


"Not if it means that it would be worth while for you to study further, and for Miss Lapidoth to have the pleasure of helping you."


With that he moved away, and Mirah taking everything with _nave_ seriousness, said,


"If you think I could teach you, I shall be very glad.


I am anxious to teach, but I have only just begun."


If I do it well, it must be by remembering how my master taught me."


Gwendolen was in reality too uncertain about herself to be prepared for this simple promptitude of Mirah's, and in her wish to change the subject, said, with some lapse from the good taste of her first address,

Gwendolen was too uncertain about herself to be prepared for this simple promptitude of Mirah's, and in her wish to change the subject, said, with some lapse from good taste-


"You have not been long in London, I think?--but you were perhaps introduced to Mr. Deronda abroad?"

"You have not been long in London, I think?- but you were perhaps introduced to Mr. Deronda abroad?"


"No," said Mirah; "I never saw him before I came to England in the summer."


"But he has seen you often and heard you sing a great deal, has he not?"


said Gwendolen, led on partly by the wish to hear anything about Deronda, and partly by the awkwardness which besets the readiest person, in carrying on a dialogue when empty of matter.

said Gwendolen, led on partly by the wish to hear anything about Deronda, and partly by the common awkwardness of making small talk.


"He spoke of you to me with the highest praise.


"Oh, I was poor and needed help," said Mirah, in a new tone of feeling, "and Mr. Deronda has given me the best friends in the world.

"I was poor and needed help," said Mirah, with feeling, "and Mr. Deronda has given me the best friends in the world.


That is the only way he came to know anything about me--because he was sorry for me.

That is the only way he came to know me - because he was sorry for me.


Poor Gwendolen, who had wanted to be a struggling artist herself, could nevertheless not escape the impression that a mode of inquiry which would have been rather rude toward herself was an amiable condescension to this Jewess who was ready to give her lessons.

Poor Gwendolen, who had wanted to be a struggling artist herself, could nevertheless not help feeling that her questions bordered on the rude.


The only effect on Mirah, as always on any mention of Deronda, was to stir reverential gratitude and anxiety that she should be understood to have the deepest obligation to him.

The only effect on Mirah, as on any mention of Deronda, was to stir her reverential gratitude towards him.


But both he and Hans, who were noticing the pair from a distance, would have felt rather indignant if they had known that the conversation had led up to Mirah's representation of herself in this light of neediness.

But both he and Hans, who were noticing the pair from a distance, would have felt rather indignant if they had known that Mirah had been led to represent herself in this light of neediness.


In the movement that prompted her, however, there was an exquisite delicacy, which perhaps she could not have stated explicitly--the feeling that she ought not to allow any one to assume in Deronda a relation of more equality or less generous interest toward her than actually existed.

However, she was prompted by the delicate feeling, which perhaps she could not have stated explicitly, that she ought not to allow anyone to assume that Deronda had a less generous interest in her than actually existed.


Her answer was delightful to Gwendolen: she thought of nothing but the ready compassion which in another form she had trusted in and found herself; and on the signals that Klesmer was about to play she moved away in much content, entirely without presentiment that this Jewish _protg_ would ever make a more important difference in her life than the possible improvement of her singing--if the leisure and spirits of a Mrs. Grandcourt would allow of other lessons than such as the world was giving her at rather a high charge.

Her answer was delightful to Gwendolen, who found Deronda's ready compassion confirmed; and with the signals that Klesmer was about to play she moved away in much content.


With her wonted alternation from resolute care of appearances to some rash indulgence of an impulse, she chose, under the pretext of getting farther from the instrument, not to go again to her former seat, but placed herself on a settee where she could only have one neighbor.

With her usual alternation from resolute care of appearances to the rash indulgence of an impulse, she did not go to her former seat, but placed herself on a settee where she could only have one neighbour.


She was nearer to Deronda than before: was it surprising that he came up in time to shake hands before the music began--then, that after he had stood a little while by the elbow of the settee at the empty end, the torrent-like confluences of bass and treble seemed, like a convulsion of nature, to cast the conduct of petty mortals into insignificance, and to warrant his sitting down?

She was near to Deronda: was it surprising that he came up to shake hands before the music began - and that after a little while, he sat down?


But when at the end of Klesmer's playing there came the outburst of talk under which Gwendolen had hoped to speak as she would to Deronda, she observed that Mr. Lush was within hearing, leaning against the wall close by them.

But when at the end of Klesmer's playing there came the outburst of talk under which Gwendolen had hoped to speak freely to Deronda, she observed that Mr. Lush was within hearing, leaning against the wall.


She could not help her flush of anger, but she tried to have only an air of polite indifference in saying,

Despite her flush of anger, she tried to assume an air of polite indifference in saying-


"Miss Lapidoth is everything you described her to be."


"You have been very quick in discovering that," said Deronda, ironically.


"I have not found out all the excellencies you spoke of--I don't mean that," said Gwendolen; "but I think her singing is charming, and herself, too.

"I have not found out all the excellencies you spoke of - I don't mean that," said Gwendolen; "but her singing is charming, and herself, too.


Her face is lovely--not in the least common; and she is such a complete little person.

Her face is lovely - not in the least common; and she is such a complete little person.


I should think she will be a great success."


This speech was grating on Deronda, and he would not answer it, but looked gravely before him.


She knew that he was displeased with her, and she was getting so impatient under the neighborhood of Mr. Lush, which prevented her from saying any word she wanted to say, that she meditated some desperate step to get rid of it, and remained silent, too.

She knew that he was displeased, and she was getting so impatient with the presence of Mr. Lush, which prevented her from saying any word she wanted to say, that she remained silent, too.


That constraint seemed to last a long while, neither Gwendolen nor Deronda looking at the other, till Lush slowly relieved the wall of his weight, and joined some one at a distance.

For a long while, neither Gwendolen nor Deronda looked at the other, till Lush slowly relieved the wall of his weight, and moved away.


Gwendolen immediately said, "You despise me for talking artificially."


"No," said Deronda, looking at her coolly; "I think that is quite excusable sometimes.


But I did not think what you were last saying was altogether artificial."


"There was something in it that displeased you," said Gwendolen.


"It is impossible to explain such things," said Deronda.


"One can never communicate niceties of feeling about words and manner."

niceties of word and manner," said Deronda.


"You think I am shut out from understanding them," said Gwendolen, with a slight tremor in her voice, which she was trying to conquer.

"You think I am shut out from understanding them," said Gwendolen, with a slight tremor in her voice, which she tried to conquer.


"Have I shown myself so very dense to everything you have said?"


There was an indescribable look of suppressed tears in her eyes, which were turned on him.


"Not at all," said Deronda, with some softening of voice.

"Not at all," said Deronda, his voice softening.


"But experience differs for different people.


"I have had plenty of proof that you are not dense."


"But one may feel things and are not able to do anything better for all that," said Gwendolen, not smiling in return--the distance to which Deronda's words seemed to throw her chilling her too much.

"But one may feel things and not be able to do anything better for all that," said Gwendolen, not smiling in return.


"I begin to think we can only get better by having people about us who raise good feelings.


You must not be surprised at anything in me.


I don't know how to set about being wise, as you told me to be."


"I seldom find I do any good by my preaching.


I might as well have kept from meddling," said Deronda, thinking rather sadly that his interference about that unfortunate necklace might end in nothing but an added pain to him in seeing her after all hardened to another sort of gambling than roulette.

I should not have meddled," said Deronda.


"Don't say that," said Gwendolen, hurriedly, feeling that this might be her only chance of getting the words uttered, and dreading the increase of her own agitation.

"Don't say that," said Gwendolen, hurriedly, feeling that this might be her only chance of speaking, and dreading the increase of her own agitation.


Your saying that I should not go on being selfish and ignorant has been some strength to me.


If you say you wish you had not meddled--that means you despair of me and forsake me.

If you say you wish you had not meddled - that means you despair of me, and


And then you will decide for me that I shall not be good.


It is you who will decide; because you might have made me different by keeping as near to me as you could, and believing in me."

You might have made me different by keeping as near to me as you could, and believing in me."


She had not been looking at him as she spoke, but at the handle of the fan which she held closed.

She had not been looking at him as she spoke, but at the handle of her fan.


With the last words she rose and left him, returning to her former place, which had been left vacant; while every one was settling into quietude in expectation of Mirah's voice, which presently, with that wonderful, searching quality of subdued song in which the melody seems simply an effect of the emotion, gave forth, _Per piet non dirmi addio_.

She rose and left him, returning to her former place, while everyone settled into quiet expectation of Mirah's voice, which presently, with that wonderful, searching quality of subdued song in which the melody seems simply an effect of the emotion, gave forth, Per piet non dirmi addio.


In Deronda's ear the strain was for the moment a continuance of Gwendolen's pleading--a painful urging of something vague and difficult, irreconcilable with pressing conditions, and yet cruel to resist.

In Deronda's ear the song was almost a continuance of Gwendolen's pleading: a painful urging of something vague and difficult, and yet cruel to resist.


However strange the mixture in her of a resolute pride and a precocious air of knowing the world, with a precipitate, guileless indiscretion, he was quite sure now that the mixture existed.

However strange the mixture in her of resolute pride and worldliness with guileless indiscretion, he was quite sure now that the mixture existed.


Sir Hugo's hints had made him alive to dangers that his own disposition might have neglected; but that Gwendolen's reliance on him was unvisited by any dream of his being a man who could misinterpret her was as manifest as morning, and made an appeal which wrestled with his sense of present dangers, and with his foreboding of a growing incompatible claim on him in her mind.

For all Sir Hugo's hints, he knew that Gwendolen did not dream that he might misinterpret her.


There was a foreshadowing of some painful collision: on the one side the grasp of Mordecai's dying hand on him, with all the ideals and prospects it aroused; on the other the fair creature in silk and gems, with her hidden wound and her self-dread, making a trustful effort to lean and find herself sustained.

He dimly foresaw some painful collision: on the one side the grasp of Mordecai's dying hand, with all the ideals and prospects it aroused; on the other the fair creature in silk and gems, with her hidden wound and her self-dread, making a trustful effort to lean on him.


It was as if he had a vision of himself besought with outstretched arms and cries, while he was caught by the waves and compelled to mount the vessel bound for a far-off coast.

It was as if he saw himself besought with outstretched arms and cries, while he was compelled to board a ship bound for a far-off coast.


That was the strain of excited feeling in him that went along with the notes of Mirah's song; but when it ceased he moved from his seat with the reflection that he had been falling into an exaggeration of his own importance, and a ridiculous readiness to accept Gwendolen's view of himself, as if he could really have any decisive power over her.

That was the feeling inspired by Mirah's song; but when it ceased he stood up with the reflection that he had been falling into an exaggeration of his own importance, and a ridiculous readiness to accept Gwendolen's view of himself, as if he could really have any decisive power over her.


"What an enviable fellow you are," said Hans to him, "sitting on a sofa with that young duchess, and having an interesting quarrel with her!"

"What an enviable fellow you are," said Hans to him, "sitting on a sofa with that young duchess, and having an interesting quarrel!"


"Oh, about theology, of course; nothing personal.


But she told you what you ought to think, and then left you with a grand air which was admirable.

But she told you what you ought to think, and then left you with an admirably grand air.


Is she an Antinomian--if so, tell her I am an Antinomian painter, and introduce me.


I should like to paint her and her husband."


He has the sort of handsome _physique_ that the Duke ought to have in _Lucrezia Borgia_--if it could go with a fine baritone, which it can't."


Deronda devoutly hoped that Hans's account of the impression his dialogue with Gwendolen had made on a distant beholder was no more than a bit of fantastic representation, such as was common with him.

Deronda devoutly hoped that Hans's impression of his dialogue with Gwendolen was no more than his usual fantasising.


And Gwendolen was not without her after-thoughts that her husband's eyes might have been on her, extracting something to reprove--some offence against her dignity as his wife; her consciousness telling her that she had not kept up the perfect air of equability in public which was her own ideal.

And Gwendolen thought that her husband's eyes might have been on her, extracting something to reprove - some offence against her dignity as his wife; for she was aware that she had not kept the perfect air of equability in public which was her ideal.


But Grandcourt made no observation on her behavior.


All he said as they were driving home was,


"Lush will dine with us among the other people to-morrow.


Gwendolen's heart began to beat violently.


The words that she wanted to utter, as one wants to return a blow, were.


"You are breaking your promise to me--the first promise you made me."

: "You are breaking your promise to me - your first promise."


She was as frightened at a quarrel as if she had foreseen that it would end with throttling fingers on her neck.

The prospect of a quarrel frightened her.


After a pause, she said in the tone rather of defeat than resentment,

After a pause, she said in the tone of defeat-


"I thought you did not intend him to frequent the house again."

"I thought you did not intend him to visit the house again."


He is useful to me; and he must be treated civilly."


There may come a moment when even an excellent husband who has dropped smoking under more or less of a pledge during courtship, for the first time will introduce his cigar-smoke between himself and his wife, with the tacit understanding that she will have to put up with it.

There may come a moment when even an excellent husband who has pledged to drop smoking during courtship, for the first time will introduce his cigar-smoke between himself and his wife, with the tacit understanding that she will have to put up with it.


Mr. Lush was, so to speak, a very large cigar.


If these are the sort of lovers' vows at which Jove laughs, he must have a merry time of it.


"Let no flower of the spring pass by us; let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they be withered."

Book 1 - THE SPOILED CHILD | Chapter 3: A Year Previously


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 labors men go forth to, for the sounds and accents that haunt it, for whatever will give that early home a familiar unmistakable difference amid the future widening of knowledge: a spot where the definiteness of early memories may be inwrought with affection, and--kindly acquaintance with all neighbors, even to the dogs and donkeys, may spread not by sentimental effort and reflection, but as a sweet habit of the blood.

A human life, I think, should be well rooted in some spot of a native land; a spot where early memories may be entwined with affection 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 favor 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 astronomy 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.

But this blessed persistence in which affection can take root had been lacking in Gwendolen's life.


It was only a year before her recall from Leubronn that Offendene had been chosen as her 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 crawing loudly above them, and the yellow elm-leaves were whirling.

Only a year before her recall from Leubronn, Offendene was chosen as her mamma's home simply for its nearness to Pennicote Rectory; and Mrs. Davilow, Gwendolen, and her four half-sisters were driven along the avenue for the first time on a late October afternoon when the rooks were cawing loudly, 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 season suited the aspect of the old oblong red-brick house, rather too anxiously ornamented with stone at every line.


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.

The building was softened with green and grey lichen, so that there was no harshness in the face which it turned to the three avenues that cut through the 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 Wessex.

One would have liked the house to have been lifted on a hill, so as to look over to the long thatched roofs of the distant villages, the church towers, the scattered homesteads and the gradual rise of surging woods in that beautiful part of Wessex.


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.

The house was just large enough to be called a mansion, and had been let with sombre furniture and faded upholstery.


But inside and outside it was what no beholder could suppose to be inhabited by retired trades-people: 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.

But nobody could suppose it to be inhabited by trades-people: and to live in a house which had once sufficed for dowager countesses added to Mrs. Davilow's satisfaction in having her own establishment.


This, rather mysteriously to Gwendolen, appeared suddenly possible 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.

This was suddenly possible on the death of Gwendolen's step-father, Captain Davilow, who had for the last nine years joined his family only in a brief and fitful manner; but Gwendolen cared not why,


All her prospects had become more agreeable in consequence.

only that her prospects had become more agreeable in consequence.


She had disliked their former way of life, roving from one foreign watering-place or Parisian apartment 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 circumstances or in a social position less than advantageous.

She had disliked their former way of life, roving from one foreign watering-place to another, always feeling new dislike for new suites of hired furniture, and meeting new people under conditions which made her appear of little importance. The two years she had passed at a showy school, where she had been put in a foremost position, had only deepened her sense of herself as an exceptional person who could not remain in ordinary circumstances.


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.

Any fear of this evil was banished now that her mamma was to have an establishment.


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 pride the miniature of a Lady Molly in that connection.


She would probably have known much more about her father but for a little incident which happened when she was twelve years old.

She would probably have known more about her father but for an 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 fervor which seemed to count on a peculiar filial sympathy, the fact that dear papa had died when his little daughter was in long clothes.

Mrs. Davilow had brought out, as she did only at wide intervals, mementos of her first husband, and while showing his miniature to Gwendolen recalled the fact that dear papa had died when his little daughter was in baby-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,

Gwendolen, immediately thinking of the unlovable step-father whom she had known while she was in short frocks, said-


It would have been nicer if you had not."


Mrs. Davilow colored deeply, a slight convulsive movement passed over her face, and straightway shutting up the memorials she said, with a violence quite unusual in her,

Mrs. Davilow coloured deeply, a slight convulsive movement passed over her face, and she said, with a violence quite unusual in her-


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 compunction.

This was not the only time she had felt a painful guilt towards her mother.


It was always arranged, when possible, that she should have a small bed in her mamma's room; for Mrs. Davilow's motherly tenderness clung chiefly to her eldest girl, who had been born in her happier time.

It was always arranged, when possible, that she should have a small bed in her mamma's room; for Mrs. Davilow's motherly tenderness clung chiefly to her eldest girl.


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.

One night under an attack of pain she found that the medicine 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 little couch, objected to step out into the cold, and lying perfectly still, grumbling a refusal.

That healthy young lady, snug and warm as a rosy infant, 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 Gwendolen 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 passionate acts which look like a contradiction of habitual tendencies.

Having always been the pet and pride of the household, waited on by all, she naturally found it difficult to think her own pleasure unimportant, and when it was thwarted felt an astonished and passionate resentment.


Though never even as a child thoughtlessly cruel, nay delighting to rescue drowning insects and watch their recovery, there was a disagreeable 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 jarringly interrupted her own.

Though never as a child thoughtlessly cruel, nay delighting to rescue drowning insects, there was a disagreeable silent remembrance of her having strangled her sister's canary-bird in a fit of exasperation at its shrill singing which had again and again jarringly 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.

She had bought a white mouse for her sister in retribution, and though inwardly excusing herself on the grounds of a peculiar sensitivity which was a mark of her superiority, the thought of that understandable 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.

Gwendolen was not without remorse, but she liked to make her penances easy, and now that she was twenty, she guarded herself from the humiliation of penance.


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 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 carriage, and were standing under the porch in front of the open door, so that they could have 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.

On this day of arrival at Offendene, a place which not even Mrs. Davilow had seen before, her brother-in-law Mr. Gascoigne having rented it for her - all four got down from the carriage, and were standing in front of the open door, to have a general view of the place and a glimpse of the stone hall and staircase hung with sombre pictures. 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 getting shabby.

Of the girls, from Alice in her sixteenth year to Isabel in her tenth, hardly anything could be said but that they were girlish, and that their black dresses were getting shabby.


Miss Merry was elderly and altogether neutral in expression.

Miss Merry, the elderly governess, was 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.

Mrs. Davilow's worn beauty seemed the more pathetic for the look of appeal which she cast at Gwendolen, who was glancing round at her surroundings with an air of rapid judgment.


Imagine a young race-horse in the paddock among untrimmed ponies and patient hacks.

Imagine a young race-horse in the paddock among ponies and patient hacks.


"Well, dear, what do you think of the place," said Mrs. Davilow at last, in a gentle, deprecatory tone.

"Well, dear, what do you think of the place?" said Mrs. Davilow.


"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.

"A romantic place; anything delightful may happen in it.


"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 living in splendor, 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 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?"

"We are early," said Mrs. Davilow, and entering the hall, she said to the housekeeper, "You expect Mr. and Mrs. Gascoigne?"


"Yes, madam; they were here yesterday to give particular orders about the fires and the dinner.

"Yes, madam; they were here yesterday to give 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'll see the brasses have been done justice to.


I _think_ when Mr. and Mrs. Gascoigne come, they'll tell you nothing has been neglected.

When Mr. and Mrs. Gascoigne come, they'll tell you nothing has been neglected.


This satisfied Gwendolen, who was not prepared to have their arrival treated with indifference; and after tripping a little way up the matted stone staircase 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 side-board, and a Christ breaking bread over the mantel-piece; 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.

This satisfied Gwendolen; and after tripping a little way up the stone staircase 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, the library with a smell of old brown-leather; and lastly the drawing-room.


said Gwendolen, Mrs. Davilow having followed slowly in talk with the housekeeper.


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.


She had thrown off her hat and gloves, and seated herself before the organ in an admirable pose, looking 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.

She had thrown off her hat and gloves, and seated herself before the organ in an admirable pose, looking upward; while the submissive Jocosa took out the comb which fastened her hair, till it fell in a smooth light-brown stream far below its owner's slim waist.


Mrs. Davilow smiled and said, "A charming picture, 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!"


"I like these old embroidered chairs, and the garlands on the wainscot, and the pictures that may be anything."


That one with the ribs--nothing but ribs and darkness--I should think that is Spanish, mamma."


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.

The opened wall-panel had disclosed the picture of an upturned dead face, from which a figure seemed to be fleeing with outstretched arms.


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,

said Mrs. Davilow; but Gwendolen shuddered silently, and Isabel, a plain and 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?"


Then snatching the panel out of the hand of the culprit, she closed it hastily, saying, "There is a lock--where is the key?

She closed the panel 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."

Let nobody open this again; and bring the key to me."


At this command to everybody in general Gwendolen turned with a face which was flushed in reaction from her chill shudder, and said, "Let us go up to our own room, mamma."

Then turning with a flushed face, she said, "Let us go to our own room, mamma."


The housekeeper on searching found the key in the drawer of the cabinet close by the panel, and presently handed it to Bugle, the lady's-maid, telling her significantly to give it to her Royal Highness.

The housekeeper found the key in the drawer of a cabinet, and later handed it to Bugle, the lady's-maid, telling her significantly to give it to her Royal Highness.


"I don't know what you mean, Mrs. Startin," said Bugle, who had been busy up-stairs during the scene in the drawing-room, and was rather offended at this irony in a new servant.

"I don't know who you mean, Mrs. Startin," said Bugle, 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.

"I mean the young lady that's to command us all," replied Mrs. Startin.


"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.

When Gwendolen and Mrs. Davilow entered their black and yellow bedroom, where a pretty little white couch sat by the side of the bed,


But her first movement was to go to the tall mirror between the windows, which reflected herself and the room completely, while her mamma sat down and also looked at the reflection.

Gwendolen's first movement was to go to the tall mirror, while her mamma sat down and looked at the reflection of her daughter and the room.


"That is a becoming glass, Gwendolen; or is it the black and gold color that sets you off?"

"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 toward the mirror, and her left hand brushing back the stream of hair.

said Mrs. Davilow, as Gwendolen stood brushing back her hair.


"I should make a tolerable St. Cecilia with some white roses on my head," said Gwendolen,--"only how about my nose, mamma?

"I should make a tolerable St. Cecilia with some white roses on my head," said Gwendolen, "only how about my nose, mamma?


I think saint's 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.

I wish you had given me your straight nose.


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 Gwendolen, still discontentedly, though going to help her mamma with caressing touches.

going to help her mamma undress with caressing touches, "you should be happy.


"Can nobody be happy after they are quite young?


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 everything make-shift about us, and you looking so dull--what was the use of my being anything?


"So I shall, dear," said Mrs. Davilow, patting the cheek that was bending near her.

"So I shall, dear," said Mrs. Davilow, patting her cheek.


Not with a sort of make-believe," said Gwendolen, with resolute perseverance.

Not with a sort of make-believe," said Gwendolen resolutely.


"See what a hand and arm!--much more beautiful than mine.

"See your hand and arm!- much more beautiful than mine.


Any one can see you were altogether more beautiful."

Anyone can see you were more beautiful."


"Well, but what is the use of my being charming, if it is to end in my being dull and not minding anything?

"Well, what is the use of my being charming, if it is to end in my being dull and not minding anything?


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 am determined to be happy - at least not to muddle away my life as other people do, being nothing remarkable.


I have made up my mind not to let other people interfere with me as they have done.

I shall not 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 waiting to have her hair wound up by her mamma.

Gwendolen proceeded to take off her own dress, waiting 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."

There was silence for a minute, till Mrs. Davilow, coiling up her daughter's hair, said, "I am sure I have never crossed you, Gwendolen."


"You often want me to do what I don't like."


And I have done it because you asked me.


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 _rle_, she would do it well."

It would be much better for her to be ignorant, mamma; 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."


"I don't see why it is hard 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.


"We must make haste; your uncle and aunt will be here soon.

"Make haste; your uncle and aunt will be here soon.


For heaven's sake, don't be scornful to _them_, my dear child!

For heaven's sake, don't be scornful to them, my dear child!


or to your cousin Anna, whom you will always be going out with.


You know, you can't expect Anna to be equal to you."

You can't expect Anna to be equal to you."


"I don't want her to be equal," said Gwendolen, with a toss of her head and a smile, and the discussion ended there.

"I don't want her to be equal," said Gwendolen, with a toss of her head and a smile.


When Mr. and Mrs. Gascoigne and their daughter came, Gwendolen, far from being scornful, behaved as prettily as possible to them.

When Mr. and Mrs. Gascoigne and their daughter came, Gwendolen, far from being scornful, behaved as prettily as possible.


She was introducing 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.

Her relatives had not seen her since she was sixteen, and she was anxious - no, not anxious, but resolved that they should admire her.


Mrs. Gascoigne bore a family likeness to her sister.

Mrs. Gascoigne bore a family likeness to her younger 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.

But she was darker and slighter than Gwendolen's mother, her face was unworn by grief, her movements were less languid, her expression more alert and critical, as suited a rector's wife.


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 different issues.

They both had natures inclined to obedience; but had ended up in very different places.


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.

The younger sister had been unfortunate in her marriages; the elder believed herself the most enviable of wives, and based her


Many of her opinions, such as those on church government and the character of Archbishop Laud, seemed too decided under every alteration to have been arrived at otherwise than by a wifely receptiveness.

decided opinions on her husband's authority.


And there was much to encourage trust in her husband's authority.

And there was much to encourage trust there.


He had some agreeable virtues, some striking advantages, and the failings that were imputed to him all leaned toward the side of success.

Mr Gascoigne had agreeable virtues, some striking advantages, and his failings leaned toward 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.

One of his advantages was a fine appearance, even more impressive at fifty-seven than it had been earlier in life.


There were no distinctively clerical lines in the face, 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.

He looked a gentleman with his handsome dark features and iron-grey 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.

Perhaps he owed this unclerical aspect to the fact that he had once been Captain Gaskin, having taken orders and a diphthong only shortly before his engagement.


If any one had objected that his preparation for the clerical function 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.

, and a gift for administration, being a tolerant man.


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 fellow-clergyman 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.

He smiled pleasantly at the flower-growing interests of his fellow-clergyman: for himself, he preferred following the history of a campaign.


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 relation to other things.

Mr. Gascoigne would have thought of himself as free from nonsense, a man who looked at religion by daylight, and saw it in its relation 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 worldliness: 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 bitterness may now seem incredible--remarked that the color of his opinions had changed in consistency with this principle of action.

Indeed, the worst criticism of him was worldliness: not that he did not care for the poor, 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.


But cheerful, successful 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.

Gwendolen wondered that she had not remembered how very fine a man her uncle was.


At present it was a matter of extreme interest to her that she was to have the near countenance of a dignified male relative, and that the family life would cease to be entirely, insipidly feminine.

It was a matter of extreme interest to her that she should have a dignified male relative nearby, and that her family life would cease to be entirely, insipidly 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.

She did not intend that her uncle should control her, but she saw at once that she would like him to be proud of introducing her as his niece.


And there was every sign of his being likely to feel that pride.

And he appeared likely to feel that pride.


He certainly looked at her with admiration as he said,

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.

"You have outgrown Anna, my dear," putting his arm tenderly round his daughter, whose shy face was a tiny copy of his own.


"She is not so old as you by a year, but her growing days are certainly over.

"She is a year younger than you, but her growing days are certainly over.


I hope you will be excellent companions."


He did give a comparing glance at his daughter, 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.

He did give a comparing glance at his daughter; but it was clear 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 cordiality as well as grace, saying, "A companion is just what I want.

Gwendolen, at least, was aware of this, and kissed her cousin with real cordiality, saying,
"A companion is just what I want.


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.

The aunt trusted 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 obtrusive influential fact in her life.

Then, of course, notice had to be taken of the four other girls, whom Gwendolen had always felt to be superfluous and unimportant, and yet from her earliest days an obtrusive fact in her life.


She was conscious 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 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?

She could tell that her uncle and aunt also felt it a pity there were so many girls:- what rational person could feel otherwise, except poor mamma, who never would see how Alice hunched her shoulders, how Bertha and Fanny whispered and tittered together about everything, or how Isabel was always listening and staring and forgetting where she was?


"You have brothers, Anna," said Gwendolen, while the sisters were being noticed.

"You have brothers, Anna," said Gwendolen.


"I am very fond of them; but of course their education is a great anxiety to papa.


"I remember I used to think you rather wild and shy; but it is difficult now to imagine you a romp," said Gwendolen, smiling.

"I remember I used to think you rather wild and shy; but it is difficult 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 blackberrying with Edwy and Lotta as well as ever.

But I like to go blackberrying with Edwy and Lotta as well as ever.