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The interest of the morrow was no longer at a deadlock. "There is really no reason on earth why you should be so alarmed at the man's waiting a few minutes, mamma," said Gwendolen, remonstrantly, as Mrs. Davilow, having prepared the writing materials, looked toward her expectantly. "Servants expect nothing else than to wait. It is not to be supposed that I must write on the instant."
She had been so long inwardly arguing for this as a permission, that her mind could not at once take another attitude. "I think it is not your duty to fix a limit in that way," said Deronda. "You would be making a painful enigma for Mrs. Davilow; an income from which you shut yourself out must be embittered to her. And your own course would become too difficult.
I shall not waltz or polk with any one." "Why in the world do you say that all on a sudden?" "I can't bear having ugly people so near me." "Whom do you mean by ugly people?" "Oh, plenty." "Mr. Clintock, for example, is not ugly." Mrs. Davilow dared not mention Grandcourt. "Well, I hate woolen cloth touching me." "Fancy!" said Mrs.
"No; that chocolate has made me sick," said Gwendolen, putting up her hand to be taken. "I should be allowed to come to you if you were ill, darling," said Mrs. Davilow, rather timidly, as she pressed the hand to her bosom. Something had made her sure today that her child loved her needed her as much as ever.
Davilow looked up in wonderment, but Gwendolen implied her wish not to be questioned further by saying "Put down that detestable needle-work, and let us walk in the avenue. I am stifled." Desire has trimmed the sails, and Circumstance Brings but the breeze to fill them.
She has had lessons, and the riding-master said she had so good a seat and hand she might be trusted with any mount," said Mrs. Davilow, who, even if she had not wished her darling to have the horse, would not have dared to be lukewarm in trying to get it for her. "There is the price of the horse a good sixty with the best chance, and then his keep," said Mr.
Gwendolen sat by in pale silence while Sir Hugo, with his face turned toward Mrs. Davilow or Mr. Gascoigne, conjectured that Mrs.
She then proposed to go and sit down in her old place, and they walked among scattered couples preparing for the waltz to the spot where Mrs. Davilow had been seated all the evening. As they approached it her seat was vacant, but she was coming toward it again, and, to Gwendolen's shuddering annoyance, with Mr. Lush at her elbow.
And Gwendolen, who, it must be owned, was a deep young lady, suddenly moved away to the other end of the long drawing-room, and busied herself with arranging pieces of music. "The dear child has had no indulgences, no pleasures," said Mrs. Davilow, in a pleading undertone. "I feel the expense is rather imprudent in this first year of our settling.
Davilow wanted to know exactly what had happened, and where the blacksmith lived, that she might make him a present; while Miss Merry, who took a subdued and melancholy part in all family affairs, doubted whether it would not be giving too much encouragement to that kind of character.
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