DANIEL DERONDA (Completed)

Chapter 13

"Philistia, be thou glad of me!"

Grandcourt having made up his mind to marry Miss Harleth, showed a power

of adapting means to ends. During the next fortnight there was hardly a

day on which by some arrangement or other he did not see her, or prove by

emphatic attentions that she occupied his thoughts. His cousin, Mrs.

Torrington, was now doing the honors of his house, so that Mrs. Davilow

and Gwendolen could be invited to a large party at Diplow in which there

were many witnesses how the host distinguished the dowerless beauty, and

showed no solicitude about the heiress. The world--I mean Mr. Gascoigne

and all the families worth speaking of within visiting distance of

Pennicote--felt an assurance on the subject which in the rector's mind

converted itself into a resolution to do his duty by his niece and see

that the settlements were adequate. Indeed the wonder to him and Mrs.

Davilow was that the offer for which so many suitable occasions presented

themselves had not been already made; and in this wonder Grandcourt

himself was not without a share. When he had told his resolution to Lush

he had thought that the affair would be concluded more quickly, and to his

own surprise he had repeatedly promised himself in a morning that he would

to-day give Gwendolen the opportunity of accepting him, and had found in

the evening that the necessary formality was still unaccomplished. This

remarkable fact served to heighten his determination on another day. He

had never admitted to himself that Gwendolen might refuse him, but--heaven

help us all!--we are often unable to act on our certainties; our objection

to a contrary issue (were it possible) is so strong that it rises like a

spectral illusion between us and our certainty; we are rationally sure

that the blind worm can not bite us mortally, but it would be so

intolerable to be bitten, and the creature has a biting look--we decline

to handle it.

He had asked leave to have a beautiful horse of his brought for Gwendolen

to ride. Mrs. Davilow was to accompany her in the carriage, and they were

to go to Diplow to lunch, Grandcourt conducting them. It was a fine mid-

harvest time, not too warm for a noonday ride of five miles to be

delightful; the poppies glowed on the borders of the fields, there was

enough breeze to move gently like a social spirit among the ears of uncut

corn, and to wing the shadow of a cloud across the soft gray downs; here

the sheaves were standing, there the horses were straining their muscles

under the last load from a wide space of stubble, but everywhere the green