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Davilow, who had observed that he was fond of being with Gwendolen, as was natural, but had not thought of this as having any bearing on the realities of life: it seemed merely part of the Christmas holidays which were spinning themselves out. Rex for his part thought that the realities of life were all hanging on this interview.
Davilow, and were therefore less agitating. Gwendolen, since she had determined to accept her income, had conceived a project which she liked to speak of: it was, to place her mother and sisters with herself in Offendene again, and, as she said, piece back her life unto that time when they first went there, and when everything was happiness about her, only she did not know it.
Davilow, still under her dominant anxiety. "I wish we had never allowed you to have the horse. You will see that we were wrong," she added, looking with a grave nod at Mr. Gascoigne "at least I was, to encourage her in asking for it." "Yes, seriously, Gwendolen," said Mr.
Davilow was chiefly occupied in imagining what her daughter was feeling, and in wondering what was signified by her hinted doubt whether she would accept her husband's bequest. Gwendolen in fact had before her the unsealed wall of an immediate purpose shutting off every other resolution. How to scale the wall?
Davilow to her sister who now came up from the other end of the room. "Gwendolen says she will not waltz or polk." "She is rather given to whims, I think," said Mrs. Gascoigne, gravely. "It would be more becoming in her to behave as other young ladies do on such an occasion as this; especially when she has had the advantage of first-rate dancing lessons."
Davilow; and she thought it likely that if she saw Deronda, there would hardly be need for more than a bow between them. She meant to notice him as little as possible. And after all she found herself under an inward compulsion too strong for her pride.
The poor thing felt strong enough to do anything that would give her a higher place in Deronda's mind. An invitation that Sir Hugo pressed on her with kind urgency was that she and Mrs. Davilow should go straight with him to Park Lane, and make his house their abode as long as mourning and other details needed attending to in London.
Davilow said, "Let me give you your sleeping-draught, Gwendolen." "No, mamma, thank you; I don't want to sleep." "It would be so good for you to sleep more, my darling." "Don't say what would be good for me, mamma," Gwendolen answered, impetuously. "You don't know what would be good for me. You and my uncle must not contradict me and tell me anything is good for me when I feel it is not good."
Davilow will remain at Offendene, at least for some time. I hope, when I come, you will have granted me an early day, when you may begin to command me at a shorter distance. Yours devotedly, The check was for five hundred pounds, and Gwendolen turned it toward her mother, with the letter. "How very kind and delicate!" said Mrs. Davilow, with much feeling.
Something, anything she wished for that would have saved her from the dread to let Grandcourt come. It was no long while yet it seemed long to Mrs. Davilow, before she thought it well to say, gently "It will be necessary for you to write, dear. Or shall I write an answer for you which you will dictate?" "No, mamma," said Gwendolen, drawing a deep breath. "But please lay me out the pen and paper."