Daniel Deronda

Chapter 25

How trace the why and wherefore in a mind reduced to the barrenness of

a fastidious egoism, in which all direct desires are dulled, and have

dwindled from motives into a vacillating expectation of motives: a

mind made up of moods, where a fitful impulse springs here and there

conspicuously rank amid the general weediness? 'Tis a condition apt to

befall a life too much at large, unmoulded by the pressure of

obligation. _Nam deteriores omnes sumus licentiae_, or, as a more

familiar tongue might deliver it, _"As you like" is a bad finger-

post._

Potentates make known their intentions and affect the funds at a small

expense of words. So when Grandcourt, after learning that Gwendolen had

left Leubronn, incidentally pronounced that resort of fashion a beastly

hole, worse than Baden, the remark was conclusive to Mr. Lush that his

patron intended straightway to return to Diplow. The execution was sure to

be slower than the intention, and, in fact, Grandcourt did loiter through

the next day without giving any distinct orders about departure--perhaps

because he discerned that Lush was expecting them: he lingered over his

toilet, and certainly came down with a faded aspect of perfect distinction

which made fresh complexions and hands with the blood in them, seem signs

of raw vulgarity; he lingered on the terrace, in the gambling-rooms, in

the reading-room, occupying himself in being indifferent to everybody and

everything around him. When he met Lady Mallinger, however, he took some

trouble--raised his hat, paused, and proved that he listened to her

recommendation of the waters by replying, "Yes; I heard somebody say how

providential it was that there always happened to be springs at gambling

places."

"Oh, that was a joke," said innocent Lady Mallinger, misled by

Grandcourt's languid seriousness, "in imitation of the old one about the

towns and the rivers, you know."

"Ah, perhaps," said Grandcourt, without change of expression. Lady

Mallinger thought this worth telling to Sir Hugo, who said, "Oh, my dear,

he is not a fool. You must not suppose that he can't see a joke. He can

play his cards as well as most of us."

"He has never seemed to me a very sensible man," said Lady Mallinger, in

excuse of herself. She had a secret objection to meeting Grandcourt, who

was little else to her than a large living sign of what she felt to be her

failure as a wife--the not having presented Sir Hugo with a son. Her

constant reflection was that her husband might fairly regret his choice,

and if he had not been very good might have treated her with some

roughness in consequence, gentlemen naturally disliking to be

disappointed.

Deronda, too, had a recognition from Grandcourt, for which he was not

grateful, though he took care to return it with perfect civility. No

reasoning as to the foundations of custom could do away with the early-

rooted feeling that his birth had been attended with injury for which his

father was to blame; and seeing that but for this injury Grandcourt's

prospects might have been his, he was proudly resolute not to behave in

any way that might be interpreted into irritation on that score. He saw a

very easy descent into mean unreasoning rancor and triumph in others'

frustration; and being determined not to go down that ugly pit, he turned

his back on it, clinging to the kindlier affections within him as a

possession. Pride certainly helped him well--the pride of not recognizing

a disadvantage for one's self which vulgar minds are disposed to

exaggerate, such as the shabby equipage of poverty: he would not have a

man like Grandcourt suppose himself envied by him. But there is no

guarding against interpretation. Grandcourt did believe that Deronda, poor

devil, who he had no doubt was his cousin by the father's side, inwardly

winced under their mutual position; wherefore the presence of that less

lucky person was more agreeable to him than it would otherwise have been.

An imaginary envy, the idea that others feel their comparative deficiency,

is the ordinary _cort***_ of egoism; and his pet dogs were not the only

beings that Grandcourt liked to feel his power over in making them

jealous. Hence he was civil enough to exchange several words with Deronda

on the terrace about the hunting round Diplow, and even said, "You had

better come over for a run or two when the season begins."

Lush, not displeased with delay, amused himself very well, partly in

gossiping with Sir Hugo and in answering his questions about Grandcourt's

affairs so far as they might affect his willingness to part with his

interest in Diplow. Also about Grandcourt's personal entanglements, the

baronet knew enough already for Lush to feel released from silence on a

sunny autumn day, when there was nothing more agreeable to do in lounging

promenades than to speak freely of a tyrannous patron behind his back. Sir

Hugo willingly inclined his ear to a little good-humored scandal, which he

was fond of calling _traits de moeurs_; but he was strict in keeping such

communications from hearers who might take them too seriously. Whatever

knowledge he had of his nephew's secrets, he had never spoken of it to

Deronda, who considered Grandcourt a pale-blooded mortal, but was far from

wishing to hear how the red corpuscles had been washed out of him. It was

Lush's policy and inclination to gratify everybody when he had no reason

to the contrary; and the baronet always treated him well, as one of those

easy-handled personages who, frequenting the society of gentlemen, without

being exactly gentlemen themselves, can be the more serviceable, like the

second-best articles of our wardrobe, which we use with a comfortable

freedom from anxiety.

"Well, you will let me know the turn of events," said Sir Hugo, "if this

marriage seems likely to come off after all, or if anything else happens

to make the want of money pressing. My plan would be much better for him

than burdening Ryelands."

"That's true," said Lush, "only it must not be urged on him--just placed

in his way that the scent may tickle him. Grandcourt is not a man to be

always led by what makes for his own interest; especially if you let him

see that it makes for your interest too. I'm attached to him, of course.

I've given up everything else for the sake of keeping by him, and it has

lasted a good fifteen years now. He would not easily get any one else to

fill my place. He's a peculiar character, is Henleigh Grandcourt, and it

has been growing on him of late years. However, I'm of a constant

disposition, and I've been a sort of guardian to him since he was twenty;

an uncommonly fascinating fellow he was then, to be sure--and could be

now, if he liked. I'm attached to him; and it would be a good deal worse

for him if he missed me at his elbow."

Sir Hugo did not think it needful to express his sympathy or even assent,

and perhaps Lush himself did not expect this sketch of his motives to be

taken as exact. But how can a man avoid himself as a subject in

conversation? And he must make some sort of decent toilet in words, as in

cloth and linen. Lush's listener was not severe: a member of Parliament

could allow for the necessities of verbal toilet; and the dialogue went on

without any change of mutual estimate.

However, Lush's easy prospect of indefinite procrastination was cut off

the next morning by Grandcourt's saluting him with the question--

"Are you making all the arrangements for our starting by the Paris train?"

"I didn't know you meant to start," said Lush, not exactly taken by

surprise.

"You might have known," said Grandcourt, looking at the burned length of

his cigar, and speaking in that lowered tone which was usual with him when

he meant to express disgust and be peremptory. "Just see to everything,

will you? and mind no brute gets into the same carriage with us. And leave

my P. P. C. at the Mallingers."

In consequence they were at Paris the next day; but here Lush was

gratified by the proposal or command that he should go straight on to

Diplow and see that everything was right, while Grandcourt and the valet

remained behind; and it was not until several days later that Lush

received the telegram ordering the carriage to the Wanchester station.

He had used the interim actively, not only in carrying out Grandcourt's

orders about the stud and household, but in learning all he could of

Gwendolen, and how things were going on at Offendene. What was the

probable effect that the news of the family misfortunes would have on

Grandcourt's fitful obstinacy he felt to be quite incalculable. So far as

the girl's poverty might be an argument that she would accept an offer

from him now in spite of any previous coyness, it might remove that bitter

objection to risk a repulse which Lush divined to be one of Grandcourt's

deterring motives; on the other hand, the certainty of acceptance was just

"the sort of thing" to make him lapse hither and thither with no more

apparent will than a moth. Lush had had his patron under close observation

for many years, and knew him perhaps better than he knew any other

subject; but to know Grandcourt was to doubt what he would do in any

particular case. It might happen that he would behave with an apparent

magnanimity, like the hero of a modern French drama, whose sudden start

into moral splendor after much lying and meanness, leaves you little

confidence as to any part of his career that may follow the fall of the

curtain. Indeed, what attitude would have been more honorable for a final

scene than that of declining to seek an heiress for her money, and

determining to marry the attractive girl who had none? But Lush had some

general certainties about Grandcourt, and one was that of all inward

movements those of generosity were least likely to occur in him. Of what

use, however, is a general certainty that an insect will not walk with his

head hindmost, when what you need to know is the play of inward stimulus

that sends him hither and thither in a network of possible paths? Thus

Lush was much at fault as to the probable issue between Grandcourt and

Gwendolen, when what he desired was a perfect confidence that they would

never be married. He would have consented willingly that Grandcourt should

marry an heiress, or that he should marry Mrs. Glasher: in the one match

there would have been the immediate abundance that prospective heirship

could not supply, in the other there would have been the security of the

wife's gratitude, for Lush had always been Mrs. Glasher's friend; and that

the future Mrs. Grandcourt should not be socially received could not

affect his private comfort. He would not have minded, either, that there

should be no marriage in question at all; but he felt himself justified in

doing his utmost to hinder a marriage with a girl who was likely to bring

nothing but trouble to her husband--not to speak of annoyance if not

ultimate injury to her husband's old companion, whose future Mr. Lush

earnestly wished to make as easy as possible, considering that he had well

deserved such compensation for leading a dog's life, though that of a dog

who enjoyed many tastes undisturbed, and who profited by a large

establishment. He wished for himself what he felt to be good, and was not

conscious of wishing harm to any one else; unless perhaps it were just now

a little harm to the inconvenient and impertinent Gwendolen. But the

easiest-humored of luxury and music, the toad-eater the least liable to

nausea, must be expected to have his susceptibilities. And Mr. Lush was

accustomed to be treated by the world in general as an apt, agreeable

fellow: he had not made up his mind to be insulted by more than one

person.

With this imperfect preparation of a war policy, Lush was awaiting

Grandcourt's arrival, doing little more than wondering how the campaign

would begin. The first day Grandcourt was much occupied with the stables,

and amongst other things he ordered a groom to put a side-saddle on

Criterion and let him review the horse's paces. This marked indication of

purpose set Lush on considering over again whether he should incur the

ticklish consequences of speaking first, while he was still sure that no

compromising step had been taken; and he rose the next morning almost

resolved that if Grandcourt seemed in as good a humor as yesterday and

entered at all into talk, he would let drop the interesting facts about

Gwendolen and her family, just to see how they would work, and to get some

guidance. But Grandcourt did not enter into talk, and in answer to a

question even about his own convenience, no fish could have maintained a

more unwinking silence. After he had read his letters he gave various

orders to be executed or transmitted by Lush, and then thrust his shoulder

toward that useful person, who accordingly rose to leave the room. But

before he was out of the door Grandcourt turned his head slightly and gave

a broken, languid "Oh."

"What is it?" said Lush, who, it must have been observed, did not take his

dusty puddings with a respectful air.

"Shut the door, will you? I can't speak into the corridor."

Lush closed the door, came forward, and chose to sit down.

After a little pause Grandcourt said, "Is Miss Harleth at Offendene?" He

was quite certain that Lush had made it his business to inquire about her,

and he had some pleasure in thinking that Lush did not want _him_ to

inquire.

"Well, I hardly know," said Lush, carelessly. "The family's utterly done

up. They and the Gascoignes too have lost all their money. It's owing to

some rascally banking business. The poor mother hasn't a _sou_, it seems.

She and the girls have to huddle themselves into a little cottage like a

laborer's."

"Don't lie to me, if you please," said Grandcourt, in his lowest audible

tone. "It's not amusing, and it answers no other purpose."

"What do you mean?" said Lush, more nettled than was common with him--the

prospect before him being more than commonly disturbing.

"Just tell me the truth, will you?"

"It's no invention of mine. I have heard the story from several--Bazley,

Brackenshaw's man, for one. He is getting a new tenant for Offendene."

"I don't mean that. Is Miss Harleth there, or is she not?" said

Grandcourt, in his former tone.

"Upon my soul, I can't tell," said Lush, rather sulkily. "She may have

left yesterday. I heard she had taken a situation as governess; she may be

gone to it for what I know. But if you wanted to see her no doubt the

mother would send for her back." This sneer slipped off his tongue without

strict intention.

"Send Hutchins to inquire whether she will be there tomorrow." Lush did

not move. Like many persons who have thought over beforehand what they

shall say in given cases, he was impelled by an unexpected irritation to

say some of those prearranged things before the cases were given.

Grandcourt, in fact, was likely to get into a scrape so tremendous that it

was impossible to let him take the first step toward it without

remonstrance. Lush retained enough caution to use a tone of rational

friendliness, still he felt his own value to his patron, and was prepared

to be daring.

"It would be as well for you to remember, Grandcourt, that you are coming

under closer fire now. There can be none of the ordinary flirting done,

which may mean everything or nothing. You must make up your mind whether

you wish to be accepted; and more than that, how you would like being

refused. Either one or the other. You can't be philandering after her

again for six weeks."

Grandcourt said nothing, but pressed the newspaper down on his knees and

began to light another cigar. Lush took this as a sign that he was willing

to listen, and was the more bent on using the opportunity; he wanted, if

possible, to find out which would be the more potent cause of hesitation--

probable acceptance or probable refusal.

"Everything has a more serious look now than it had before. There is her

family to be provided for. You could not let your wife's mother live in

beggary. It will be a confoundedly hampering affair. Marriage will pin you

down in a way you haven't been used to; and in point of money you have not

too much elbow-room. And after all, what will you get by it? You are

master over your estates, present or future, as far as choosing your heir

goes; it's a pity to go on encumbering them for a mere whim, which you may

repent of in a twelvemonth. I should be sorry to see you making a mess of

your life in that way. If there were anything solid to be gained by the

marriage, that would be a different affair."

Lush's tone had gradually become more and more unctuous in its

friendliness of remonstrance, and he was almost in danger of forgetting

that he was merely gambling in argument. When he left off, Grandcourt took

his cigar out of his mouth, and looking steadily at the moist end while he

adjusted the leaf with his delicate finger-tips, said--

"I knew before that you had an objection to my marrying Miss Harleth."

Here he made a little pause before he continued. "But I never considered

that a reason against it."

"I never supposed you did," answered Lush, not unctuously but dryly. "It

was not _that_ I urged as a reason. I should have thought it might have

been a reason against it, after all your experience, that you would be

acting like the hero of a ballad, and making yourself absurd--and all for

what? You know you couldn't make up your mind before. It's impossible you

can care much about her. And as for the tricks she is likely to play, you

may judge of that from what you heard at Leubronn. However, what I wished

to point out to you was, that there can be no shilly-shally now."

"Perfectly," said Grandcourt, looking round at Lush and fixing him with

narrow eyes; "I don't intend that there should be. I dare say it's

disagreeable to you. But if you suppose I care a damn for that you are

most stupendously mistaken."

"Oh, well," said Lush, rising with his hands in his pockets, and feeling

some latent venom still within him, "if you have made up your mind!--only

there's another aspect of the affair. I have been speaking on the

supposition that it was absolutely certain she would accept you, and that

destitution would have no choice. But I am not so sure that the young lady

is to be counted on. She is kittle cattle to shoe, I think. And she had

her reasons for running away before." Lush had moved a step or two till he

stood nearly in front of Grandcourt, though at some distance from him. He

did not feel himself much restrained by consequences, being aware that the

only strong hold he had on his present position was his serviceableness;

and even after a quarrel the want of him was likely sooner or later to

recur. He foresaw that Gwendolen would cause him to be ousted for a time,

and his temper at this moment urged him to risk a quarrel.

"She had her reasons," he repeated more significantly.

"I had come to that conclusion before," said Grandcourt, with contemptuous

irony.

"Yes, but I hardly think you know what her reasons were."

"You do, apparently," said Grandcourt, not betraying by so much as an

eyelash that he cared for the reasons.

"Yes, and you had better know too, that you may judge of the influence you

have over her if she swallows her reasons and accepts you. For my own part

I would take odds against it. She saw Lydia in Cardell Chase and heard the

whole story."

Grandcourt made no immediate answer, and only went on smoking. He was so

long before he spoke that Lush moved about and looked out of the windows,

unwilling to go away without seeing some effect of his daring move. He had

expected that Grandcourt would tax him with having contrived the affair,

since Mrs. Glasher was then living at Gadsmere, a hundred miles off, and

he was prepared to admit the fact: what he cared about was that Grandcourt

should be staggered by the sense that his intended advances must be made

to a girl who had that knowledge in her mind and had been scared by it. At

length Grandcourt, seeing Lush turn toward him, looked at him again and

said, contemptuously, "What follows?"

Here certainly was a "mate" in answer to Lush's "check:" and though his

exasperation with Grandcourt was perhaps stronger than it had ever been

before, it would have been idiocy to act as if any further move could be

useful. He gave a slight shrug with one shoulder, and was going to walk

away, when Grandcourt, turning on his seat toward the table, said, as

quietly as if nothing had occurred, "Oblige me by pushing that pen and

paper here, will you?"

No thunderous, bullying superior could have exercised the imperious spell

that Grandcourt did. Why, instead of being obeyed, he had never been told

to go to a warmer place, was perhaps a mystery to those who found

themselves obeying him. The pen and paper were pushed to him, and as he

took them he said, "Just wait for this letter."

He scrawled with ease, and the brief note was quickly addressed. "Let

Hutchins go with it at once, will you?" said Grandcourt, pushing the

letter away from him.

As Lush had expected, it was addressed to Miss Harleth, Offendene. When

his irritation had cooled down he was glad there had been no explosive

quarrel; but he felt sure that there was a notch made against him, and

that somehow or other he was intended to pay. It was also clear to him

that the immediate effect of his revelation had been to harden

Grandcourt's previous determination. But as to the particular movements

that made this process in his baffling mind, Lush could only toss up his

chin in despair of a theory.