s fancy from the
Mr. Grandcourt who had come to Diplow in order apparently to make a chief epoch
in her destiny - perhaps by introducing her to that state of marriage which she
had resolved to make a state of greater freedom than her girlhood. And on the
whole she wished to marry him; he suited her purpose; her prevailing, deliberate
intention was, to accept him.
    But was she going to fulfil her deliberate intention? She began to be afraid
of herself, and to find out a certain difficulty in doing as she liked. Already
her assertion of independence in evading his advances had been carried farther
than was necessary, and she was thinking with some anxiety what she might do on
the next occasion.
    Seated according to her habit with her back to the horses on their drive
homewards, she was completely under the observation of her mamma, who took the
excitement and changefulness in the expression of her eyes, her unwonted absence
of mind and total silence, as unmistakeable signs that something unprecedented
had occurred between her and Grandcourt. Mrs. Davilow's uneasiness determined
her to risk some speech on the subject: the Gascoignes were to dine at
Offendene, and in what had occurred this morning there might be some reason for
consulting the Rector; not that she expected him any more than herself to
influence Gwendolen, but that her anxious mind wanted to be disburthened.
    »Something has happened, dear?« she began, in a tender tone of question.
    Gwendolen looked round, and seeming to be roused to the consciousness of her
physical self, took off her gloves and then her hat, that the soft breeze might
blow on her head. They were in a retired bit of the road, where the long
afternoon shadows from the bordering trees fell across it, and no observers were
within sight. 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.
    »Mamma, dear, please don't be miserable,« said Gwendolen, with pettish
remonstrance. »It only makes me more so. I am in doubt myself.«
    »About Mr. Grandcourt's intentions?« said Mrs. Davilow, gathering
determination from her alarms.
    »No
