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And what sort of woman was she to be solitary, sickened of life, looked at with a suspicious kind of pity? even if she could dream of success in getting that dreary freedom. Mrs. Grandcourt "run away" would be a more pitiable creature than Gwendolen Harleth condemned to teach the bishop's daughters, and to be inspected by Mrs. Mompert. One characteristic trait in her conduct is worth mentioning.
"No, my dear Miss Harleth, you could do nothing better neither man nor woman could do anything better if you could do what was best or good of its kind. I am not decrying the life of the true artist. I am exalting it.
That was desirable, and especially gratifying as a preamble to his supreme preference for Gwendolen Harleth. He did not appear to enjoy anything much. That was not necessary: and the less he had of particular tastes, or desires, the more freedom his wife was likely to have in following hers. Gwendolen conceived that after marriage she would most probably be able to manage him thoroughly.
That little ceremony had been over long enough for her to have exchanged playful speeches and received congratulations as she moved among the groups who were now interesting themselves in the results of the scoring; but it happened that she stood outside examining the point of an arrow with rather an absent air when Lord Brackenshaw came up to her and said: "Miss Harleth, here is a gentleman who is not willing to wait any longer for an introduction.
Shakspere does not show the inner springs of the fall of Macbeth or Angelo so clearly as she shows the catastrophe of Arthur Donnithorne, of Tito Melema, of Gwendolen Harleth. Readers from whom the threat of hell would fall off as an old wife's tale, feel the dark power of reality in the mischief which dogs each of her wrong-doers.
"Light a cigar," she said, soothingly, taking the case from his breast-pocket and opening it. Amidst such caressing signs of mutual fear they parted. The effect that clung and gnawed within Grandcourt was a sense of imperfect mastery. "A wild dedication of yourselves To unpath'd waters, undreamed shores." On the day when Gwendolen Harleth was married and became Mrs.
The valet, seeing her approach, met her with it, and in giving it into her hand gave also a letter addressed to her. Lush coming to fetch other bows. To avoid meeting him she turned aside and walked with her back toward the stand of carriages, opening the letter. It contained these words If Miss Harleth is in doubt whether she should accept Mr.
Still, to have put off a decision was to have made room for the waste of Grandcourt's energy. The guests at Diplow felt more curiosity than their host. How was it that nothing more was heard of Miss Harleth? Was it credible that she had refused Mr. Grandcourt? Lady Flora Hollis, a lively middle-aged woman, well endowed with curiosity, felt a sudden interest in making a round of calls with Mrs.
"Miss Harleth," said Klesmer, turning toward her and speaking with a slight increase of accent, "I will veil nothing from you in this matter. I should reckon myself guilty if I put a false visage on things made them too black or too white. The gods have a curse for him who willingly tells another the wrong road.
After all, she acted in a hurry, as she had wished to do. To act in a hurry was to have a reason for keeping away from an absolute decision, and to leave open as many issues as possible. She wrote: "Miss Harleth presents her compliments to Mr. Grandcourt. She will be at home after two o'clock to-morrow."
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