DANIEL DERONDA (Completed)

Chapter 31

"A wild dedication of yourselves

To unpath'd waters, undreamed shores."

--SHAKESPEARE.

On the day when Gwendolen Harleth was married and became Mrs. Grandcourt,

the morning was clear and bright, and while the sun was low a slight frost

crisped the leaves. The bridal party was worth seeing, and half Pennicote

turned out to see it, lining the pathway up to the church. An old friend

of the rector's performed the marriage ceremony, the rector himself acting

as father, to the great advantage of the procession. Only two faces, it

was remarked, showed signs of sadness--Mrs. Davilow's and Anna's. The

mother's delicate eyelids were pink, as if she had been crying half the

night; and no one was surprised that, splendid as the match was, she

should feel the parting from a daughter who was the flower of her children

and of her own life. It was less understood why Anna should be troubled

when she was being so well set off by the bridesmaid's dress. Every one

else seemed to reflect the brilliancy of the occasion--the bride most of

all. Of her it was agreed that as to figure and carriage she was worthy to

be a "lady o' title": as to face, perhaps it might be thought that a title

required something more rosy; but the bridegroom himself not being fresh-

colored--being indeed, as the miller's wife observed, very much of her own

husband's complexion--the match was the more complete. Anyhow he must be

very fond of her; and it was to be hoped that he would never cast it up to

her that she had been going out to service as a governess, and her mother

to live at Sawyer's Cottage--vicissitudes which had been much spoken of in

the village. The miller's daughter of fourteen could not believe that high

gentry behaved badly to their wives, but her mother instructed her--"Oh,

child, men's men: gentle or simple, they're much of a muchness. I've heard

my mother say Squire Pelton used to take his dogs and a long whip into his

wife's room, and flog 'em there to frighten her; and my mother was lady's-

maid there at the very time."

"That's unlucky talk for a wedding, Mrs. Girdle," said the tailor. "A

quarrel may end wi' the whip, but it begins wi' the tongue, and it's the

women have got the most o' that."

"The Lord gave it 'em to use, I suppose," said Mrs. Girdle. "_He_ never

meant you to have it all your own way."

"By what I can make out from the gentleman as attends to the grooming at

Offendene," said the tailor, "this Mr. Grandcourt has wonderful little