e was
glad of, acted as a charm in more senses than one, and was slightly
benumbing. Grandcourt after all was formidable--a handsome lizard of a
hitherto unknown species, not of the lively, darting kind. But
Gwendolen knew hardly anything about lizards, and ignorance gives one a
large range of probabilities. This splendid specimen was probably
gentle, suitable as a boudoir pet: what may not a lizard be, if you
know nothing to the contrary? Her acquaintance with Grandcourt was such
that no accomplishment suddenly revealed in him would have surprised
her. And he was so little suggestive of drama, that it hardly occurred
to her to think with any detail how his life of thirty-six years had
been passed: in general, she imagined him always cold and dignified,
not likely ever to have committed himself. He had hunted the tiger--had
he ever been in love or made love? The one experience and the other
seemed alike remote in Gwendolen'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 fulfill 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 homeward, 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 unmistakable
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 anymore than herself
to influence Gwendolen, but that her anxious mind wanted to be
disburdened.

"Something has happened, dear?" she began, in a tender tone of question.

Gwendolen looked round, and seeming to be roused to the con