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Updated: May 6, 2025
Davilow's mind first of all the picture of a handsome, accomplished, excellent young man whom she would be satisfied with as a husband for her daughter; but then came the further speculation would Gwendolen be satisfied with him?
Only two faces, it was remarked, showed signs of sadness Mrs. Davilow's and Anna's. The mother's delicate eyelids were pink, as if she had been crying half the night; and no one was surprised that, splendid as the match was, she should feel the parting from a daughter who was the flower of her children and of her own life.
All the while they were looking at each other; and Grandcourt said, slowly and languidly, as if it were of no importance, other things having been settled "You will tell me now, I hope, that Mrs. Davilow's loss of fortune will not trouble you further. You will trust me to prevent it from weighing upon her. You will give me the claim to provide against that."
Her eyes continued to meet her mother's, but she did not speak. "Mr. Grandcourt has been saying something? Tell me, dear." The last words were uttered beseechingly. "What am I to tell you, mamma?" was the perverse answer. "I am sure something has agitated you. You ought to confide in me, Gwen. You ought not to leave me in doubt and anxiety." Mrs. Davilow's eyes filled with tears.
Davilow's mind prompted the sort of question which often comes without any other apparent reason than the faculty of speech and the not knowing what to do with it. "Why, what kind of a man do you imagine him to be, Gwendolen?" "Let me see!" said the witch, putting her forefinger to her lips, with a little frown, and then stretching out the finger with decision.
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. Imagine a young race-horse in the paddock among untrimmed ponies and patient hacks. "Well, dear, what do you think of the place," said Mrs. Davilow at last, in a gentle, deprecatory tone.
This was not the only instance in which she had brought on herself the pain of some filial compunction. 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.
The road lay through a bit of country where the dairy-farms looked much as they did in the days of our forefathers where peace and permanence seemed to find a home away from the busy change that sent the railway train flying in the distance. But the spirit of peace and permanence did not penetrate poor Mrs. Davilow's mind so as to overcome her habit of uneasy foreboding.
Besides, Gwendolen will save me so much by giving her sisters lessons." Here Mrs. Davilow's delicate cheek showed a rapid blush. "If it were not for that, I must really have a more expensive governess, and masters besides." Gwendolen felt some anger with her mamma, but carefully concealed it. "That is good that is decidedly good," said Mr. Gascoigne, heartily, looking at his wife.
Davilow's timid maternal conscience dreaded whatever had brought on the slightest hint of reproach. Hence, after this little scene, the two concurred in excluding Mr. Grandcourt from their conversation. When Mr. Gascoigne once or twice referred to him, Mrs.
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