d
neither more nor less easy perfection of costume, neither more nor less
well-cut impassibility of face, than before his marriage. It was to be
supposed of him that he would put up with nothing less than the best in
outward equipment, wife included; and the bride was what he might have
been expected to choose. "By George, I think she's handsomer, if
anything!" said Mr. Vandernoodt. And Deronda was of the same opinion,
but he said nothing. The white silk and diamonds--it may seem strange,
but she did wear diamonds on her neck, in her ears, in her hair--might
have something to do with the new imposingness of her beauty, which
flashed on him as more unquestionable if not more thoroughly
satisfactory than when he had first seen her at the gaming-table. Some
faces which are peculiar in their beauty are like original works of
art: for the first time they are almost always met with question. But
in seeing Gwendolen at Diplow, Deronda had discerned in her more than
he had expected of that tender appealing charm which we call womanly.
Was there any new change since then? He distrusted his impressions; but
as he saw her receiving greetings with what seemed a proud cold
quietude and a superficial smile, there seemed to be at work within her
the same demonic force that had possessed her when she took him in her
resolute glance and turned away a loser from the gaming-table. There
was no time for more of a conclusion--no time even for him to give his
greeting before the summons to dinner.

He sat not far from opposite to her at table, and could sometimes hear
what she said in answer to Sir Hugo, who was at his liveliest in
conversation with her; but though he looked toward her with the
intention of bowing, she gave him no opportunity of doing so for some
time. At last Sir Hugo, who might have imagined that they had already
spoken to each other, said, "Deronda, you will like to hear what Mrs.
Grandcourt tells me about your favorite Klesmer."

Gwendolen's eyelids had been lowered, and Deronda, already looking at
her, thought he discovered a quivering reluctance as she was obliged to
raise them and return his unembarrassed bow and smile, her own smile
being one of the lip merely. It was but an instant, and Sir Hugo
continued without pause--

"The Arrowpoints have condoned the marriage, and he is spending the
Christmas with his bride at Quetcham."

"I suppose he will be glad of it for the sake of his wife, else I dare
say he would