Daniel Deronda George Eliot (best book clubs TXT) đ
- Author: George Eliot
Book online «Daniel Deronda George Eliot (best book clubs TXT) đ». Author George Eliot
And now he would not look round and find out that she was there! The paper crackled in his hand, his head rose and sank, exploring those stupid columns, and he was evidently stroking his beard; as if this world were a very easy affair to her. Of course all the rest of the company would soon be down, and the opportunity of her saying something to efface her flippancy of the evening before, would be quite gone. She felt sick with irritationâ âso fast do young creatures like her absorb misery through invisible suckers of their own fanciesâ âand her face had gathered that peculiar expression which comes with a mortification to which tears are forbidden.
At last he threw down the paper and turned round.
âOh, you are there already,â he said, coming forward a step or two: âI must go and put on my coat.â
He turned aside and walked out of the room. This was behaving quite badly. Mere politeness would have made him stay to exchange some words before leaving her alone. It was true that Grandcourt came in with Sir Hugo immediately after, so that the words must have been too few to be worth anything. As it was, they saw him walking from the library door.
âAâ âyou look rather ill,â said Grandcourt, going straight up to her, standing in front of her, and looking into her eyes. âDo you feel equal to the walk?â
âYes, I shall like it,â said Gwendolen, without the slightest movement except this of the lips.
âWe could put off going over the house, you know, and only go out of doors,â said Sir Hugo, kindly, while Grandcourt turned aside.
âOh, dear no!â said Gwendolen, speaking with determination; âlet us put off nothing. I want a long walk.â
The rest of the walking partyâ âtwo ladies and two gentlemen besides Derondaâ âhad now assembled; and Gwendolen rallying, went with due cheerfulness by the side of Sir Hugo, paying apparently an equal attention to the commentaries Deronda was called upon to give on the various architectural fragments, to Sir Hugoâs reasons for not attempting to remedy the mixture of the undisguised modern with the antiqueâ âwhich in his opinion only made the place the more truly historical. On their way to the buttery and kitchen they took the outside of the house and paused before a beautiful pointed doorway, which was the only old remnant in the east front.
âWell, now, to my mind,â said Sir Hugo, âthat is more interesting standing as it is in the middle of what is frankly four centuries later, than if the whole front had been dressed up in a pretense of the thirteenth century. Additions ought to smack of the time when they are made and carry the stamp of their period. I wouldnât destroy any old bits, but that notion of reproducing the old is a mistake, I think. At least, if a man likes to do it he must pay for his whistle. Besides, where are you to stop along that roadâ âmaking loopholes where you donât want to peep, and so on? You may as well ask me to wear out the stones with kneeling; eh, Grandcourt?â
âA confounded nuisance,â drawled Grandcourt. âI hate fellows wanting to howl litaniesâ âacting the greatest bores that have ever existed.â
âWell, yes, thatâs what their romanticism must come to,â said Sir Hugo, in a tone of confidential assentâ ââthat is if they carry it out logically.â
âI think that way of arguing against a course because it may be ridden down to an absurdity would soon bring life to a standstill,â said Deronda. âIt is not the logic of human action, but of a roasting-jack, that must go on to the last turn when it has been once wound up. We can do nothing safely without some judgment as to where we are to stop.â
âI find the rule of the pocket the best guide,â said Sir Hugo, laughingly. âAnd as for most of your new-old building, you had need to hire men to scratch and chip it all over artistically to give it an elderly-looking surface; which at the present rate of labor would not answer.â
âDo you want to keep up the old fashions, then, Mr. Deronda?â said Gwendolen, taking advantage of the freedom of grouping to fall back a little, while Sir Hugo and Grandcourt went on.
âSome of them. I donât see why we should not use our choice there as we do elsewhereâ âor why either age or novelty by itself is an argument for or against. To delight in doing things because our fathers did them is good if it shuts out nothing better; it enlarges the range of affectionâ âand affection is the broadest basis of good in life.â
âDo you think so?â said Gwendolen with a little surprise. âI should have thought you cared most about ideas, knowledge, wisdom, and all that.â
âBut to care about them is a sort of affection,â said Deronda, smiling at her sudden naivete. âCall it attachment; interest, willing to bear a great deal for the sake of being with them and saving them from injury. Of course, it makes a difference if the objects of interest are human beings; but generally in all deep affections the objects are a mixtureâ âhalf persons and half ideasâ âsentiments and affections flow in together.â
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