CHAPTER IX.

orhissteedandridetoQuetcham,wherehewillfindMissArrowpointjustmarriedtoaneedymusician,Mrs.Arrowpointtearinghercapoff,andMr.Arrowpointstandingby.ExitLordGrandcourt,whoreturnstoDiplow,and,likeM.Jabot,changedelinge.” Waseveranyyoungwitchlikethis?Youthoughtofhidingthingsfromher—satuponyoursecretandlookedinnocent,andallthewhilesheknewbythecornerofyoureyethatitwasexactlyfivepoundstenyouweresittingon!Aswellturnthekeytokeepoutthedamp!ItwasprobablethatbydintofdivinationshealreadyknewmorethananyoneelsedidofMr.Grandcourt.ThatideainMrs.Davilow’smindpromptedthesortofquestionwhichoftencomeswithoutanyotherapparentreasonthanthefacultyofspeechandthenotknowingwhattodowithit. “Why,whatkindofamandoyouimaginehimtobe,Gwendolen?” “Letmesee!”saidthewitch,puttingherforefingertoherlips,withalittlefrown,andthenstretchingoutthefingerwithdecision.“Short—justabovemyshoulder—tryingtomakehimselftallbyturninguphismustacheandkeepinghisbeardlong—aglassinhisrighteyetogivehimanairofdistinction—astrongopinionabouthiswaistcoat,butuncertainandtrimmingabouttheweather,onwhichhewilltrytodrawmeout.Hewillstareatmeallthewhile,andtheglassinhiseyewillcausehimtomakehorriblefaces,especiallywhenhesmilesinaflatteringway.Ishallcastdownmyeyesinconsequence,andhewillperceivethatIamnotindifferenttohisattentions.IshalldreamthatnightthatIamlookingattheextraordinaryfaceofamagnifiedinsect—andthenextmorninghewillmakeanofferofhishandthesequelasbefore.” “Thatisaportraitofsomeoneyouhaveseenalready,Gwen.Mr.Grandcourtmaybeadelightfulyoungmanforwhatyouknow.” “Oh,yes,”saidGwendolen,withahighnoteofcarelessadmission,takingoffherbesthatandturningitroundonherhandcontemplatively.“Iwonderwhatsortofbehavioradelightfulyoungmanwouldhave?Iknowhewouldhavehuntersandracers,andaLondonhouseandtwocountry-houses—onewithbattlementsandanotherwithaveranda.AndIfeelsurethatwithalittlemurderinghemightgetatitle.” Theironyofthisspeechwasofthedoubtfulsortthathassomegenuinebeliefmixedupwithit.PoorMrs.Davilowfeltuncomfortableunderit.Herownmeaningsbeingusuallyliteralandinintentioninnocentandshesaidwithadistressedbrow: “Don’ttalkinthatway,child,forheaven’ssake!youdoreadsuchbooks—theygiveyousuchideasofeverything.IdeclarewhenyourauntandIwereyourageweknewnothingaboutwickedness.Ithinkitwasbetterso.” “Whydidyounotbringmeupinthatway,mamma?”saidGwendolen.Butimmediatelyperceivinginthecrushedlookandrisingsobthatshehadgivenadeepwound,shetosseddownherhatandkneltathermother’sfeetcrying, “Mamma,mamma!Iwasonlyspeakinginfun.Imeantnothing.” “HowcouldI,Gwendolen?”saidpoorMrs.Davilow,unabletoheartheretraction,andsobbingviolentlywhileshemadetheefforttospeak.“Yourwillwasalwaystoostrongforme—ifeverythingelsehadbeendifferent.” Thisdisjoinedlogicwasintelligibleenoughtothedaughter.“Dearmamma,Idon’tfindfaultwithyou—Iloveyou,”saidGwendolen,reallycompunctious.“HowcanyouhelpwhatIam?Besides,Iamverycharming.Come,now.”HereGwendolenwithherhandkerchiefgentlyrubbedawayhermother’stears.“Really—Iamcontentedwithmyself.IlikemyselfbetterthanIshouldhavelikedmyauntandyou.Howdreadfullydullyoumusthavebeen!” Suchtendercajoleryservedtoquietthemother,asithadoftendonebeforeafterlikecollisions.Notthatthecollisionshadoftenbeenrepeatedatthesamepointforinthememoryofboththeyleftanassociationofdreadwiththeparticulartopicswhichhadoccasioned