CHAPTER VII.

erebutGwendolen.Thefourgirls,hearinghimspeakinthehall,rushedoutofthelibrary,whichwastheirschool-room,andhungroundhimwithcompassionateinquiriesabouthisarm.Mrs.Davilowwantedtoknowexactlywhathadhappened,andwheretheblacksmithlived,thatshemightmakehimapresentwhileMissMerry,whotookasubduedandmelancholypartinallfamilyaffairs,doubtedwhetheritwouldnotbegivingtoomuchencouragementtothatkindofcharacter.Rexhadneverfoundthefamilytroublesomebefore,butjustnowhewishedthemallawayandGwendolenthere,andhewastoouneasyforgood-naturedfeigning.Whenatlasthehadsaid,“WhereisGwendolen?”andMrs.DavilowhadtoldAlicetogoandseeifhersisterwerecomedown,adding,“Isentupherbreakfastthismorning.Sheneededalongrest.”Rextooktheshortestwayoutofhisendurancebysaying,almostimpatiently,“Aunt,IwanttospeaktoGwendolen—Iwanttoseeheralone.” “Verywell,deargointothedrawing-room.Iwillsendherthere,”saidMrs.Davilow,whohadobservedthathewasfondofbeingwithGwendolen,aswasnatural,buthadnotthoughtofthisashavinganybearingontherealitiesoflife:itseemedmerelypartoftheChristmasholidayswhichwerespinningthemselvesout. Rexforhispartthoughtthattherealitiesoflifewereallhangingonthisinterview.Hehadtowalkupanddownthedrawing-roominexpectationfornearlytenminutes—amplespaceforallimaginativefluctuationsyet,strangetosay,hewasunvaryinglyoccupiedinthinkingwhatandhowmuchhecoulddo,whenGwendolenhadacceptedhim,tosatisfyhisfatherthattheengagementwasthemostprudentthingintheworld,sinceitinspiredhimwithdoubleenergyforwork.Hewastobealawyer,andwhatreasonwastherewhyheshouldnotriseashighasEldondid?Hewasforcedtolookatlifeinthelightofhisfather’smind. Butwhenthedooropenedandshewhosepresencehewaslongingforentered,therecameoverhimsuddenlyandmysteriouslyastateoftremoranddistrustwhichhehadneverfeltbefore.MissGwendolen,simpleasshestoodthere,inherblacksilk,cutsquareabouttheroundwhitepillarofherthroat,ablackbandfasteningherhairwhichstreamedbackwardinsmoothsilkyabundance,seemedmorequeenlythanusual.PerhapsitwasthattherewasnoneofthelatentfunandtricksinesswhichhadalwayspiercedinhergreetingofRex.Howmuchofthiswasduetoherpresentimentfromwhathehadsaidyesterdaythathewasgoingtotalkoflove?Howmuchfromherdesiretoshowregretabouthisaccident?Somethingofboth.Butthewisdomofageshashintedthatthereisasideofthebedwhichhasamaligninfluenceifyouhappentogetoutonitandthisaccidentbefallssomecharmingpersonsratherfrequently.PerhapsithadbefallenGwendolenthismorning.Thehasteningofhertoilet,thewayinwhichBugleusedthebrush,thequalityoftheshillingserialmistakenlywrittenforheramusement,theprobabilitiesofthecomingday,and,inshort,socialinstitutionsgenerally,wereallobjectionabletoher.Itwasnotthatshewasoutoftemper,butthattheworldwasnotequaltothedemandsofherfineorganism. Howeveritmightbe,Rexsawanawfulmajestyaboutherassheenteredandputoutherhandtohim,withouttheleastapproachtoasmileineyesormouth.Thefunwhichhadmovedherintheeveninghadquiteevaporatedfromtheimageofhisaccident,andthewholeaffairseemedstupidtoher.Butshesaidwithperfectpropriety,“Ihopeyouarenotmuchhurt,RexIdeservethatyoushouldreproachmeforyouraccident.” “Notatall,”saidRex,feelingthesoulwithinhimspreadingitselflikeanattackofillness.“Thereishardlyanythingthematterwithme.Iamsogladyouhadthepleasure:Iwouldwillinglypayforitbyatumble,onlyIwassorrytobreakthehorse’sknees.” Gwendolenwalkedtothehearthandstoodlookingatthefireinthemostinconvenientwayforconversation,sothathecouldonlygetasideviewofherface. “MyfatherwantsmetogotoSouthamptonfortherestofthevacation,”saidRex,hisbaritonetremblingalittle. “Southampton!That’sastupidplacetogoto,isn’tit?”saidGwendolen,chilly. “Itwouldbetome,becauseyouwouldnotbethere.”Silence. “Shouldyoumindaboutmegoingaway,Gwendolen?” “Ofcourse.Everyoneisofconsequenceinthisdrearycountry,”saidGwendolen,curtly.TheperceptionthatpoorRexwantedtobetendermadehercurlupandhardenlikeasea-anemoneatthetouchofafinger. “Areyouangrywithme,Gwendolen?Whydoyoutreatmeinthiswayallatonce?”saidRex,flushing,andwithmorespiritinhisvoice,asifhetoowerecapableofbeingangry. Gwendolenlookedroundathimandsmiled.“Treatyou?Nonsense!Iamonlyrathercross.Whydidyoucomesoveryearly?Youmustexpecttofindtempersindishabille.” “Beascrosswithmeasyoulike—onlydon’ttreatmewithindifference,”saidRex,imploringly.“Allthehappinessofmylifedependsonyourlovingme—ifonlyalittle—betterthananyoneelse.” Hetriedtotakeherhand,butshehastilyeludedhisgraspandmovedtotheotherendofthehearth,facinghim. “Praydon’tmakelovetome!Ihateit!”shelookedathimfiercely. Rexturnedpaleandwassilent,butcouldnottakehiseyesoffher,andtheimpetuswasnotyetexhaustedthatmadehersdartdeathathim.Gwendolenherselfcouldnothaveforeseenthatsheshouldfeelinthisway.Itwasallasudden,newexperiencetoher.Thedaybeforeshehadbeenquiteawarethathercousinwasinlovewithhershedidnotmindhowmuch,sothathesaidnothingaboutitandifanyonehadaskedherwhysheobjectedtolove-makingspeeches,shewouldhavesaid,laughingly,“OhIamtiredofthemallinthebooks.”Butnowthelifeofpassionhadbegunnegativelyinher.Shefeltpassionatelyaversetothisvolunteeredlove. ToRexattwentythejoyoflifeseemedatanendmoreabsolutelythanitcandotoamanatforty.Butbeforetheyhadceasedtolookateachother,hedidspeakagain. “Isthatlastwordyouhavetosaytome,Gwendolen?Willitalwaysbeso?” ShecouldnothelpseeinghiswretchednessandfeelingalittleregretfortheoldRexwhohadnotoffendedher.Decisively,butyetwithsomereturnofkindness,shesaid, “Aboutmakinglove?Yes.ButIdon’tdislikeyouforanythingelse.” Therewasjustaperceptiblepausebeforehesaidalow“good-bye,”andpassedoutoftheroom.Almostimmediatelyafter,sheheardtheheavyhalldoorbangbehindhim. Mrs.Davilow,too,hadheardRex’shastydeparture,andpresentlycameintothedrawing-room,whereshefoundGwendolenseatedonthelowcouch,herfaceburied,andherhairfallingoverherfigurelikeagarment.Shewassobbingbitterly.“Mychild,mychild,whatisit?”criedthemother,whohadneverbeforeseenherdarlingstruckdowninthisway,andfeltsomethingofthealarmedanguishthatwomen,feelatthesightofoverpoweringsorrowinastrongmanforthischildhadbeenherruler.Sittingdownbyherwithcirclingarms,shepressedhercheekagainstGwendolen’shead,andthentriedtodrawitupward.Gwendolengaveway,andlettingherheadrestagainsthermother,criedoutsobbingly,“Oh,mamma,whatcanbecomeofmylife?thereisnothingworthlivingfor!” “Why,dear?”saidMrs.Davilow.Usuallysheherselfhadbeenrebukedbyherdaughterforinvoluntarysignsofdespair. “Ishallneverloveanybody.Ican’tlovepeople.Ihatethem.” “Thetimewillcome,dear,thetimewillcome.” Gwendolenwasmoreandmoreconvulsedwithsobbingbutputtingherarmsroundhermother’sneckwithanalmostpainfulclinging,shesaidbrokenly,“Ican’tbearanyonetobeverynearmebutyou.” Thenthemotherbegantosob,forthisspoiledchildhadnevershownsuchdependenceonherbefore:andsotheyclungtoeachother.