ve any ground for hesitating as to your acceptance of Mr. Grandcourt."

"I suppose I hesitate without grounds." Gwendolen spoke rather
poutingly, and her uncle grew suspicious.

"Is he disagreeable to you personally?"

"No."

"Have you heard anything of him which has affected you disagreeably?"
The rector thought it impossible that Gwendolen could have heard the
gossip he had heard, but in any case he must endeavor to put all things
in the right light for her.

"I have heard nothing about him except that he is a great match," said
Gwendolen, with some sauciness; "and that affects me very agreeably."

"Then, my dear Gwendolen, I have nothing further to say than this: you
hold your fortune in your own hands--a fortune such as rarely happens
to a girl in your circumstances--a fortune in fact which almost takes
the question out of the range of mere personal feeling, and makes your
acceptance of it a duty. If Providence offers you power and
position--especially when unclogged by any conditions that are
repugnant to you--your course is one of responsibility, into which
caprice must not enter. A man does not like to have his attachment
trifled with: he may not be at once repelled--these things are matters
of individual disposition. But the trifling may be carried too far. And
I must point out to you that in case Mr. Grandcourt were repelled
without your having refused him--without your having intended
ultimately to refuse him, your situation would be a humiliating and
painful one. I, for my part, should regard you with severe
disapprobation, as the victim of nothing else than your own coquetry
and folly."

Gwendolen became pallid as she listened to this admonitory speech. The
ideas it raised had the force of sensations. Her resistant courage
would not help her here, because her uncle was not urging her against
her own resolve; he was pressing upon her the motives of dread which
she already felt; he was making her more conscious of the risks that
lay within herself. She was silent, and the rector observed that he had
produced some strong effect.

"I mean this in kindness, my dear." His tone had softened.

"I am aware of that, uncle," said Gwendolen, rising and shaking her
head back, as if to rouse herself out of painful passivity. "I am not
foolish. I know that I must be married some time--before it is too
late. And I don't see how I could do better than marry Mr. Grandcourt.
I mean to accept him, if possible." She f