Gwendolen, we have seen, passed her time abroad in the new excitement of gambling1, and in imagining herself an empress of luck, having brought from her late experience a vague impression that in this confused world it signified nothing what any one did, so that they amused themselves. We have seen, too, that certain persons, mysteriously symbolized2 as Grapnell & Co., having also thought of reigning3 in the realm of luck, and being also bent4 on amusing themselves, no matter how, had brought about a painful change in her family circumstances; whence she had returned home—carrying with her, against her inclination5, a necklace which she had pawned6 and some one else had redeemed7.
While she was going back to England, Grandcourt was coming to find her; coming, that is, after his own manner—not in haste by express straight from Diplow to Leubronn, where she was understood to be; but so entirely8 without hurry that he was induced by the presence of some Russian acquaintances to linger at Baden-Baden and make various appointments with them, which, however, his desire to be at Leubronn ultimately caused him to break. Grandcourt’s passions were of the intermittent10, flickering11 kind: never flaming out strongly. But a great deal of life goes on without strong passion: myriads12 of cravats13 are carefully tied, dinners attended, even speeches made proposing the health of august personages without the zest14 arising from a strong desire. And a man may make a good appearance in high social positions—may be supposed to know the classics, to have his reserves on science, a strong though repressed opinion on politics, and all the sentiments of the English gentleman, at a small expense of vital energy. Also, he may be obstinate15 or persistent16 at the same low rate, and may even show sudden impulses which have a false air of daemonic strength because they seem inexplicable17, though perhaps their secret lies merely in the want of regulated channels for the soul to move in—good and sufficient ducts of habit without which our nature easily turns to mere18 ooze19 and mud, and at any pressure yields nothing but a spurt20 or a puddle21.
Grandcourt had not been altogether displeased22 by Gwendolen’s running away from the splendid chance he was holding out to her. The act had some piquancy23 for him. He liked to think that it was due to resentment24 of his careless behavior in Cardell Chase, which, when he came to consider it, did appear rather cool. To have brought her so near a tender admission, and then to have walked headlong away from further opportunities of winning the consent which he had made her understand him to be asking for, was enough to provoke a girl of spirit; and to be worth his mastering it was proper that she should have some spirit. Doubtless she meant him to follow her, and it was what he meant too. But for a whole week he took no measures toward starting, and did not even inquire where Miss Harleth was gone. Mr. Lush felt a triumph that was mingled25 with much distrust; for Grandcourt had said no word to him about her, and looked as neutral as an alligator26; there was no telling what might turn up in the slowly-churning chances of his mind. 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 credible27 that she had refused Mr. Grandcourt? Lady Flora28 Hollis, a lively middle-aged29 woman, well endowed with curiosity, felt a sudden interest in making a round of calls with Mrs. Torrington, including the rectory, Offendene, and Quetcham, and thus not only got twice over, but also discussed with the Arrowpoints, the information that Miss Harleth was gone to Leubronn, with some old friends, the Baron30 and Baroness31 von Langen; for the immediate32 agitation33 and disappointment of Mrs. Davilow and the Gascoignes had resolved itself into a wish that Gwendolen’s disappearance34 should not be interpreted as anything eccentric or needful to be kept secret. The rector’s mind, indeed, entertained the possibility that the marriage was only a little deferred35, for Mrs. Davilow had not dared to tell him of the bitter determination with which Gwendolen had spoken. And in spite of his practical ability, some of his experience had petrified36 into maxims37 and quotations38. Amaryllis fleeing desired that her hiding-place should be known; and that love will find out the way “over the mountain and over the wave” may be said without hyperbole in this age of steam. Gwendolen, he conceived, was an Amaryllis of excellent sense but coquettish daring; the question was whether she had dared too much.
Lady Flora, coming back charged with news about Miss Harleth, saw no good reason why she should not try whether she could electrify39 Mr. Grandcourt by mentioning it to him at the table; and in doing so shot a few hints of a notion having got abroad that he was a disappointed adorer. Grandcourt heard with quietude, but with attention; and the next day he ordered Lush to bring about a decent reason for breaking up the party at Diplow by the end of another week, as he meant to go yachting to the Baltic or somewhere—it being impossible to stay at Diplow as if he were a prisoner on parole, with a set of people whom he had never wanted. Lush needed no clearer announcement that Grandcourt was going to Leubronn; but he might go after the manner of a creeping billiard-ball and stick on the way. What Mr. Lush intended was to make himself indispensable so that he might go too, and he succeeded; Gwendolen’s repulsion for him being a fact that only amused his patron, and made him none the less willing to have Lush always at hand.
This was how it happened that Grandcourt arrived at the Czarina on the fifth day after Gwendolen had left Leubronn, and found there his uncle, Sir Hugo Mallinger, with his family, including Deronda. It is not necessarily a pleasure either to the reigning power or the heir presumptive when their separate affairs—a touch of gout, say, in the one, and a touch of willfulness in the other—happen to bring them to the same spot. Sir Hugo was an easy-tempered man, tolerant both of differences and defects; but a point of view different from his own concerning the settlement of the family estates fretted40 him rather more than if it had concerned Church discipline or the ballot41, and faults were the less venial42 for belonging to a person whose existence was inconvenient43 to him. In no case could Grandcourt have been a nephew after his own heart; but as the presumptive heir to the Mallinger estates he was the sign and embodiment of a chief grievance44 in the baronet’s life—the want of a son to inherit the lands, in no portion of which had he himself more than a life-interest. For in the ill-advised settlement which his father, Sir Francis, had chosen to make by will, even Diplow with its modicum45 of land had been left under the same conditions as the ancient and wide inheritance of the two Toppings—Diplow, where Sir Hugo had lived and hunted through many a season in his younger years, and where his wife and daughters ought to have been able to retire after his death.
This grievance had naturally gathered emphasis as the years advanced, and Lady Mallinger, after having had three daughters in quick succession, had remained for eight years till now that she was over forty without producing so much as another girl; while Sir Hugo, almost twenty years older, was at a time of life when, notwithstanding the fashionable retardation46 of most things from dinners to marriages, a man’s hopefulness is apt to show signs of wear, until restored by second childhood.
In fact, he had begun to despair of a son, and this confirmation47 of Grandcourt’s interest in the estates certainly tended to make his image and presence the more unwelcome; but, on the other hand, it carried circumstances which disposed Sir Hugo to take care that the relation between them should be kept as friendly as possible. It led him to dwell on a plan which had grown up side by side with his disappointment of an heir; namely, to try and secure Diplow as a future residence for Lady Mallinger and her daughters, and keep this pretty bit of the family inheritance for his own offspring in spite of that disappointment. Such knowledge as he had of his nephew’s disposition48 and affairs encouraged the belief that Grandcourt might consent to a transaction by which he would get a good sum of ready money, as an equivalent for his prospective49 interest in the
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