t much of Gregory, reminding herself that as was her sorrow
in regard to her own crushed hopes, so were his. His hopes, too, had
been crushed, because she had been so obdurate to him. But she had
never been false. She had never whispered a word of love to Gregory.
It might be that his heart was as sore, but he had not been injured
as she had been injured. She despised the owner of Newton Priory. She
would scorn him should he come again to her and throw himself at her
feet. But Gregory could not despise her. She had, indeed, preferred
the bad to the good. There had been lack of judgment. But there had
been on her side no lack of truth. Yes;--she had been wrong in her
choice. Her judgment had been bad. And yet how glorious he had looked
as he lay upon the lawn, hot from his rowing, all unbraced, brown and
bold and joyous as a young god, as he bade her go and fetch him drink
to slake his thirst! How proud, then, she had been to be ordered by
him, as though their mutual intimacies and confidences and loves were
sufficient, when they too were alone together, to justify a reversal
of those social rules by which the man is ordered to wait upon the
woman. There is nothing in the first flush of acknowledged love that
is sweeter to the woman than this. All the men around her are her
servants; but in regard to this man she may have the inexpressibly
greater pleasure of serving him herself. Clarissa had now thought
much of these things, and had endeavoured to define to herself what
had been those gifts belonging to Ralph which had won from her her
heart. He was not, in truth, handsomer than his brother Gregory,
was certainly less clever, was selfish in small things from habit,
whereas Gregory had no thought for his own comfort. It had all come
from this,--that a black coat and a grave manner of life and serious
pursuits had been less alluring to her than idleness and pleasure. It
had suited her that her young god should be joyous, unbraced, brown,
bold, and thirsty. She did not know Pope's famous line, but it all
lay in that. She was innocent, pure, unknowing in the ways of vice,
simple in her tastes, conscientious in her duties, and yet she was
a rake at heart,--till at last sorrow and disappointment taught her
that it is not enough that a man should lie loose upon the grass with
graceful negligence and call for soda-water with a pleasant voice.
Gregory wore black clothes, was sombre, and was a parson;--but, oh,
what a thing it is