Didactic fiction; England -- Fiction; Jewish fiction; Jews -- England -- Fiction; Zionists -- Fiction
To-day a slight rain hindered riding; but to compensate, a package had
come from London, and Mrs. Davilow had just left the room after
bringing in for admiration the beautiful things (of Grandcourt’s
ordering) which lay scattered about on the tables. Gwendolen was just
then enjoying the scenery of her life. She let her hands fall on her
lap, and said with a pretty air of perversity,
“Why is to-morrow the only day?”
“Because the next day is the first with the hounds,” said Grandcourt.
“And after that?”
“After that I must go away for a couple of days—it’s a bore—but I
shall go one day and come back the next.” Grandcourt noticed a change
in her face, and releasing his hand from under his knees, he laid it on
hers, and said, “You object to my going away?”
“It’s no use objecting,” said Gwendolen, coldly. She was resisting to
the utmost her temptation to tell him that she suspected to whom he was
going—the temptation to make a clean breast, speaking without
restraint.
“Yes it is,” said Grandcourt, enfolding her hand. “I will put off
going. And I will travel at night, so as only to be away one day.” He
thought that he knew the reason of what he inwardly called this bit of
temper, and she was particularly fascinating to him at this moment.
“Then don’t put off going, but travel at night,” said Gwendolen,
feeling that she could command him, and finding in this peremptoriness
a small outlet for her irritation.
“Then you will go to Diplow to-morrow?”
“Oh, yes, if you wish it,” said Gwendolen, in a high tone of careless
assent. Her concentration in other feelings had really hindered her
from taking notice that her hand was being held.
“How you treat us poor devils of men!” said Grandcourt, lowering his
tone. “We are always getting the worst of it.”
“_Are_ you?” said Gwendolen, in a tone of inquiry, looking at him more
naively than usual. She longed to believe this commonplace _badinage_
as the serious truth about her lover: in that case, she too was
justified. If she knew everything, Mrs. Glasher would appear more
blamable than Grandcourt. “_Are_ you always getting the worst?”
“Yes. Are you as kind to me as I am to you?” said Grandcourt, looking
into her eyes with his narrow gaze.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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