Her mind gathered itself up at once into the resolution, that she would manage to go unobserved to the Whispering Stones; and thrusting the letter into her pocket she turned back to rejoin the company, with that sense of having something to conceal which to her nature had a bracing quality and helped her to be mistress of herself.

She at once resolved that she would manage to go unobserved to the Whispering Stones; and thrusting the letter into her pocket she turned back to rejoin the company.


It was a surprise to every one that Grandcourt was not, like the other smokers, on the spot in time to set out roving with the rest.

It was a surprise to everyone that Grandcourt was not there in time to set out roving with the rest.


"We shall alight on him by-and-by," said Lord Brackenshaw; "he can't be gone far."

"We shall find him by-and-by," said Lord Brackenshaw.


At any rate, no man could be waited for.


This apparent forgetfulness might be taken for the distraction of a lover so absorbed in thinking of the beloved object as to forget an appointment which would bring him into her actual presence.

This apparent forgetfulness might be taken for the distraction of a lover so absorbed in thinking of his beloved as to forget an appointment which would bring him into her actual presence.


And the good-natured Earl gave Gwendolen a distant jocose hint to that effect, which she took with suitable quietude.


But the thought in her mind was "Can he too be starting away from a decision?"

But Gwendolen thought, "Can he too be starting away from a decision?"


It was not exactly a pleasant thought to her; but it was near the truth.

It was not exactly a pleasant thought; but it was near the truth.


"Starting away," however, was not the right expression for the languor of intention that came over Grandcourt, like a fit of diseased numbness, when an end seemed within easy reach: to desist then, when all expectation was to the contrary, became another gratification of mere will, sublimely independent of definite motive.

"Starting away," however, was not the right expression for the languor that came over Grandcourt, like a fit of diseased numbness, when an end seemed within easy reach.


At that moment he had begun a second large cigar in a vague, hazy obstinacy which, if Lush or any other mortal who might be insulted with impunity had interrupted by overtaking him with a request for his return, would have expressed itself by a slow removal of his cigar, to say in an undertone, "You'll be kind enough to go to the devil, will you?"

At that moment he had begun a second large cigar in a vague, hazy obstinacy; if anyone had interrupted him to request his return, he would have said in a slow undertone, "You'll be kind enough to go to the devil, will you?"


But he was not interrupted, and the rovers set off without any visible depression of spirits, leaving behind only a few of the less vigorous ladies, including Mrs. Davilow, who preferred a quiet stroll free from obligation to keep up with others.

But he was not interrupted, and the rovers set off, leaving behind only a few ladies, including Mrs. Davilow, who preferred a quiet stroll.


The enjoyment of the day was soon at its highest pitch, the archery getting more spirited and the changing scenes of the forest from roofed grove to open glade growing lovelier with the lengthening shadows, and the deeply-felt but undefinable gradations of the mellowing afternoon.

The enjoyment of the day was soon at its highest pitch, the archery getting more spirited and the changing scenes of the forest growing lovelier with the lengthening shadows of the mellowing afternoon.


It was agreed that they were playing an extemporized _As you like it_; and when a pretty compliment had been turned to Gwendolen about her having the part of Rosalind, she felt the more compelled to be surpassing in loveliness.


This was not very difficult to her, for the effect of what had happened to-day was an excitement which needed a vent--a sense of adventure rather than alarm, and a straining toward the management of her retreat, so as not to be impeded.

an excitement - a sense of adventure rather than alarm.


The roving had been lasting nearly an hour before the arrival at the Whispering Stones, two tall conical blocks that leaned toward each other like gigantic gray-mantled figures.

The roving had lasted nearly an hour before the arrival at the Whispering Stones, two tall blocks that leaned toward each other like gigantic grey-mantled figures.


They were soon surveyed and passed by with the remark that they would be good ghosts on a starlit night.


But a soft sunlight was on them now, and Gwendolen felt daring.


The stones were near a fine grove of beeches, where the archers found plenty of marks.

way to a fine grove of beeches, where the archers found plenty of marks.


said Gwendolen, having got in front by the side of the warden.


"Oh, not more than half a mile, taking along the avenue we're going to cross up there: but I shall take round a couple of miles, by the High Cross."


She was falling back among the rest, when suddenly they seemed all to be hurrying obliquely forward under the guidance of Mr. Lush, and lingering a little where she was, she perceived her opportunity of slipping away.

Suddenly the group seemed to be hurrying forward under the guidance of Mr. Lush, and Gwendolen perceived her opportunity of slipping away.


Soon she was out of sight, and without running she seemed to herself to fly along the ground and count the moments nothing till she found herself back again at the Whispering Stones.

Soon she was out of sight, and without running she seemed to fly along the ground till she was back at the Whispering Stones.


They turned their blank gray sides to her: what was there on the other side?

They turned their blank grey sides to her: what was on the other side?


That was her only dread now--to have to turn back again in mystification; and walking round the right-hand stone without pause, she found herself in front of some one whose large dark eyes met hers at a foot's distance.

Walking round the right-hand stone, she found herself in front of some one whose large dark eyes met hers.


In spite of expectation, she was startled and shrank bank, but in doing so she could take in the whole figure of this stranger and perceive that she was unmistakably a lady, and one who must have been exceedingly handsome.

Startled, she shrank bank, but at the same time perceived that the stranger was a lady, and one who must have been exceedingly handsome.


She perceived, also, that a few yards from her were two children seated on the grass.

She perceived, also, that a few yards away were two children seated on the grass.


All Gwendolen's consciousness was wonder.


However you may decide you will not tell Mr. Grandcourt, or any one else, that you have seen me?"

You will not tell Mr. Grandcourt, or anyone else, that you have seen me?"


Mr. Grandcourt ought not to marry any one but me.

Mr. Grandcourt ought not to marry anyone but me.


I left my husband and child for him nine years ago.


Those two children are his, and we have two others--girls--who are older.

Those two children are his, and we have two more, older girls.


My husband is dead now, and Mr. Grandcourt ought to marry me.

My husband is dead, and Mr. Grandcourt ought to marry me.


She looked at the boy as she spoke, and Gwendolen's eyes followed hers.

Gwendolen's eyes followed hers to the boy.


The handsome little fellow was puffing out his cheeks in trying to blow a tiny trumpet which remained dumb.

The handsome, curly-haired little fellow was puffing out his cheeks in trying to blow a tiny trumpet.


His hat hung backward by a string, and his brown curls caught the sun-rays.


The two women's eyes met again, and Gwendolen said proudly, "I will not interfere with your wishes."


She looked as if she were shivering, and her lips were pale.

She was shivering, and her lips were pale.


But when he first knew me, I too was young.


Since then my life has been broken up and embittered.

Since then my life has been broken and embittered.


It is not fair that he should be happy and I miserable, and my boy thrust out of sight for another."


These words were uttered with a biting accent, but with a determined abstinence from anything violent in tone or manner.


Gwendolen, watching Mrs. Glasher's face while she spoke, felt a sort of terror: it was as if some ghastly vision had come to her in a dream and said, "I am a woman's life."

Gwendolen felt a sort of terror, as if some ghastly vision had come to her in a dream and said, "I am a woman's life."


she asked in a low tone, but still proud and coldly.


The revulsion within her was not tending to soften her.

The revulsion within her did not soften her.


"Then I will go," said Gwendolen, moving away with a ceremonious inclination, which was returned with equal grace.

"Then I will go," said Gwendolen, moving away ceremoniously.


In a few minutes Gwendolen was in the beech grove again but her party had gone out of sight and apparently had not sent in search of her, for all was solitude till she had reached the avenue pointed out by the warden.

In a few minutes she was in the beech grove again, but her party had gone out of sight.


She determined to take this way back to Green Arbor, which she reached quickly; rapid movements seeming to her just now a means of suspending the thoughts which might prevent her from behaving with due calm.

All was solitude till she reached the avenue to Green Arbour, walking rapidly as a means of suspending her thoughts.


She had already made up her mind what step she would take.

She had already made up her mind what to do.


Mrs. Davilow was of course astonished to see Gwendolen returning alone, and was not without some uneasiness which the presence of other ladies hindered her from showing.

Mrs. Davilow was astonished to see Gwendolen returning.


In answer to her words of surprise Gwendolen said,


I lingered behind to look at the Whispering Stones, and the rest hurried on after something, so I lost sight of them.

I lingered behind to look at the Whispering Stones, and I lost sight of the others.


I thought it best to come home by the short way--the avenue that the warden had told me of.

I thought it best to come home by the short way.


"Your party did not meet Mr. Grandcourt, I presume," said Mrs. Arrowpoint, not without intention.

"Your party did not meet Mr. Grandcourt, I presume," said Mrs. Arrowpoint.


"No," said Gwendolen, with a little flash of defiance, and a light laugh.

"No," said Gwendolen, with a light laugh.


"And we didn't see any carvings on the trees, either.


I should think he has fallen into the pool or had an apoplectic fit."

I should think he has fallen into the pool."


With all Gwendolen's resolve not to betray any agitation, she could not help it that her tone was unusually high and hard, and her mother felt sure that something unpropitious had happened.

Despite Gwendolen's resolve not to betray any agitation, her tone was unusually high and hard.


Mrs. Arrowpoint thought that the self-confident young lady was much piqued, and that Mr. Grandcourt was probably seeing reason to change his mind.

Mrs. Arrowpoint thought that the young lady was much piqued, and that Mr. Grandcourt was probably seeing reason to change his mind.


"If you have no objection, mamma, I will order the carriage," said Gwendolen.


Mrs. Davilow assented; but by the time the carriage was announced as ready--the horses having to be fetched from the stables on the warden's premises--the roving party reappeared, and with them Mr. Grandcourt.

By the time the carriage was ready, the roving party reappeared, and with them Mr. Grandcourt.


said Lord Brackenshaw, going up to Gwendolen, who was arranging her mamma's shawl for the drive.


"We thought at first you had alighted on Grandcourt and he had taken you home.

"We thought at first you had met Grandcourt and he had taken you home.


However, we didn't suppose you could be in any danger.


The warden said he had told you a near way back."


said Grandcourt, coming up with his usual air, as if he did not conceive that there had been any omission on his part.

said Grandcourt, coming up with his usual air.


Lord Brackenshaw gave place to him and moved away.


"Yes, we are going," said Gwendolen, looking busily at her scarf, which she was arranging across her shoulders Scotch fashion.

"Yes," said Gwendolen, busily arranging her scarf across her shoulders.


"Oh yes, if you like," said Gwendolen, sweeping him from a distance with her eyelashes.


Her voice was light and sharp as the first touch of frost.

her voice as light and sharp as the first touch of frost.


Mrs. Davilow accepted his arm to lead her to the carriage; but while that was happening, Gwendolen with incredible swiftness had got in advance of them, and had sprung into the carriage.

Before he could lead them to the carriage, she swiftly sprang into it on her own.


"I got in, mamma, because I wished to be on this side," she said, apologetically.

"I wished to be on this side, mamma," she said, apologetically.


But she had avoided Grandcourt's touch: he only lifted his hat and walked away--with the not unsatisfactory impression that she meant to show herself offended by his neglect.

But she had avoided Grandcourt's touch: he lifted his hat and walked away, with the not unsatisfactory impression that she was offended by his neglect.


The mother and daughter drove for five minutes in silence.


Then Gwendolen said, "I intend to join the Langens at Dover, mamma.


I shall pack up immediately on getting home, and set off by the early train.

I shall pack immediately on getting home, and set off by the early train.


I shall be at Dover almost as soon as they are; we can let them know by telegraph."


"My reason for saying it, mamma, is that I mean to do it."


"Is it because you are offended with Mr. Grandcourt's odd behavior in walking off to-day?"

"Is it because you are offended with Mr. Grandcourt's odd behaviour in walking off to-day?"


"It is useless to enter into such questions.


I am not going in any case to marry Mr. Grandcourt.

I am not going to marry Mr. Grandcourt."


Don't interest yourself further about it."


"What can I say to your uncle, Gwendolen?


You led him to believe only last night that you had made up your mind in favor of Mr. Grandcourt."

You led him to believe last night that you had made up your mind in favour of Mr. Grandcourt."


"I am very sorry to cause you annoyance, mamma, dear, but I can't help it," said Gwendolen, with still harder resistance in her tone.

"I am very sorry, mamma, dear, but I can't help it," said Gwendolen, with still harder resistance in her tone.


"Whatever you or my uncle may think or do, I shall not alter my resolve, and I shall not tell my reason.

"Whatever you or my uncle think, I shall not alter my resolve, and I shall not tell my reason.


I believe all men are bad, and I hate them."


"But need you set off in this way, Gwendolen?"


said Mrs. Davilow, miserable and helpless.


If you have ever had any trouble in your own life, remember it and don't interfere with me.


If I am to be miserable, let it be by my own choice."


The mother was reduced to trembling silence.

The helpless mother was reduced to trembling silence.


She began to see that the difficulty would be lessened if Gwendolen went away.


The packing was all carefully done that evening, and not long after dawn the next day Mrs. Davilow accompanied her daughter to the railway station.

The packing was done that evening, and early the next day Mrs. Davilow accompanied her daughter to the railway station


The sweet dews of morning, the cows and horses looking over the hedges without any particular reason, the early travelers on foot with their bundles, seemed all very melancholy and purposeless to them both.

, whose dingy torpor seemed very melancholy


The dingy torpor of the railway station, before the ticket could be taken, was still worse.


Gwendolen had certainly hardened in the last twenty-four hours: her mother's trouble evidently counted for little in her present state of mind, which did not essentially differ from the mood that makes men take to worse conduct when their belief in persons or things is upset.

Gwendolen had hardened in the last twenty-four hours: her


Gwendolen's uncontrolled reading, though consisting chiefly in what are called pictures of life, had somehow not prepared her for this encounter with reality.

reading had somehow not prepared her for this encounter with reality.


It is to be believed that attendance at the _opra bouffe_ in the present day would not leave men's minds entirely without shock, if the manners observed there with some applause were suddenly to start up in their own families.


Perspective, as its inventor remarked, is a beautiful thing.


What horrors of damp huts, where human beings languish, may not become picturesque through aerial distance!


What hymning of cancerous vices may we not languish over as sublimest art in the safe remoteness of a strange language and artificial phrase!


Yet we keep a repugnance to rheumatism and other painful effects when presented in our personal experience.


Mrs. Davilow felt Gwendolen's new phase of indifference keenly, and as she drove back alone, the brightening morning was sadder to her than before.

Mrs. Davilow felt Gwendolen's indifference keenly, and as she drove back alone, the brightening morning was sadder to her than before.


Mr. Grandcourt called that day at Offendene, but nobody was at home.


"Within the gentle heart Love shelters him, As birds within the green shade of the grove.


Before the gentle heart, in Nature's scheme, Love was not, nor the gentle heart ere Love."


--GUIDO GUINICELLI (_Rossetti's Translation_).


There was another house besides the white house at Pennicote, another breast besides Rex Gascoigne's, in which the news of Grandcourt's death caused both strong agitation and the effort to repress it.

There was another breast besides Rex's, in which the news of Grandcourt's death caused both strong agitation and the effort to repress it.


It was Hans Meyrick's habit to send or bring in the _Times_ for his mother's reading.

It was Hans Meyrick's habit to bring the Times for his mother.


She was a great reader of news, from the widest-reaching politics to the list of marriages; the latter, she said, giving her the pleasant sense of finishing the fashionable novels without having read them, and seeing the heroes and heroines happy without knowing what poor creatures they were.


On a Wednesday, there were reasons why Hans always chose to bring the paper, and to do so about the time that Mirah had nearly ended giving Mab her weekly lesson, avowing that he came then because he wanted to hear Mirah sing.

On a Wednesday, he always chose to bring the paper at about the time Mirah finished giving Mab her weekly lesson.


But on the particular Wednesday now in question, after entering the house as quietly as usual with his latch-key, he appeared in the parlor, shaking the _Times_ aloft with a crackling noise, in remorseless interruption of Mab's attempt to render _Lascia ch'io pianga_ with a remote imitation of her teacher.

But on this particular Wednesday he appeared in the parlour, shaking the Times aloft with a crackling which interrupted Mab's singing.


Piano and song ceased immediately; Mirah, who had been playing the accompaniment, involuntarily started up and turned round, the crackling sound, after the occasional trick of sounds, having seemed to her something thunderous; and Mab said,

Mirah, who had been playing the accompaniment, started up and turned round; and Mab said-


why do you bring a more horrible noise than my singing?"


said Mrs. Meyrick, who was the only other person in the room.


"Anything about Italy--anything about the Austrians giving up Venice?"


"Nothing about Italy, but something from Italy," said Hans, with a peculiarity in his tone and manner which set his mother interpreting.

"Something from Italy," said Hans, with a peculiar tone and manner.


Imagine how some of us feel and behave when an event, not disagreeable seems to be confirming and carrying out our private constructions.


in a pregnant tone to some innocent person who has not embarked his wisdom in the same boat with ours, and finds our information flat.


said Mrs. Meyrick anxiously, thinking immediately of Deronda; and Mirah's heart had been already clutched by the same thought.


"Not bad for anybody we care much about," said Hans, quickly; "rather uncommonly lucky, I think.

"Not bad for anybody we care about," said Hans, quickly; "rather uncommonly lucky, I think.


I never knew anybody die conveniently before."


Considering what a dear gazelle I am, I am constantly wondering to find myself alive."


said Mab, impatiently, "if you must talk of yourself, let it be behind your own back.


"Duke Alfonso is drowned, and the Duchess is alive, that's all," said Hans, putting the paper before Mrs. Meyrick, with his finger against a paragraph.

"Duke Alfonso is drowned, and the Duchess is alive, that's all," said Hans, putting the paper before Mrs. Meyrick.


"But more than all is--Deronda was at Genoa in the same hotel with them, and he saw her brought in by the fishermen who had got her out of the water time enough to save her from any harm.

"But Deronda was at Genoa in the same hotel, and he saw her brought in by the fishermen who had got her out of the water.


It seems they saw her jump in after her husband, which was a less judicious action than I should have expected of the Duchess.

They saw her jump in after her husband, which was a less judicious action than I should have expected of the Duchess.


However Deronda is a lucky fellow in being there to take care of her."

However, Deronda is a lucky fellow in being there to take care of her."


Mirah had sunk on the music stool again, with her eyelids down and her hands tightly clasped; and Mrs. Meyrick, giving up the paper to Mab, said,

Mirah had sunk on the music stool again, with her eyelids down and her hands tightly clasped. Mrs. Meyrick said-


she must have been fond of her husband to jump in after him."


"It was an inadvertence--a little absence of mind," said Hans, creasing his face roguishly, and throwing himself into a chair not far from Mirah.

"It was a little absence of mind," said Hans roguishly, throwing himself into a chair.


"Who can be fond of a jealous baritone, with freezing glances, always singing asides?--that was the husband's _rle_, depend upon it.


Nothing can be neater than his getting drowned.


"The Duchess is at liberty now to marry a man with a fine head of hair, and glances that will melt instead of freezing her.


Here Mirah started from her sitting posture, and fixing her eyes on Hans, with an angry gleam in them, she said, in a deeply-shaken voice of indignation,

Here Mirah started up, and fixing her eyes angrily on Hans, she said, in a deeply-shaken voice of indignation-


"Mr. Hans, you ought not to speak in that way.


Mr. Deronda would not like you to speak so.


Why will you say he is lucky--why will you use words of that sort about life and death--when what is life to one is death to another?

Why will you say he is lucky - when what is life to one is death to another?


How do you know it would be lucky if he loved Mrs. Grandcourt?


She would take him away from my brother--I know she would.

She would take him away from my brother.


Mr. Deronda would not call that lucky to pierce my brother's heart."


All three were struck with the sudden transformation.


Mirah's face, with a look of anger that might have suited Ithuriel, pale, even to the lips that were usually so rich of tint, was not far from poor Hans, who sat transfixed, blushing under it as if he had been a girl, while he said, nervously,

Poor Hans sat transfixed, blushing, and said, nervously-


"I am a fool and a brute, and I withdraw every word."


I'll go and hang myself like Judas--if it's allowable to mention him."


Even in Hans's sorrowful moments, his improvised words had inevitably some drollery.


But Mirah's anger was not appeased: how could it be?


She had burst into indignant speech as creatures in intense pain bite and make their teeth meet even through their own flesh, by way of making their agony bearable.

She had burst into indignant speech as creatures in intense pain bite even through their own flesh, by way of making their agony bearable.


She said no more, but, seating herself at the piano, pressed the sheet of music before her, as if she thought of beginning to play again.


It was Mab who spoke, while Mrs. Meyrick's face seemed to reflect some of Hans' discomfort.

Both Hans and his mother were silent. It was Mab who spoke,


saying, "Mirah is quite right to scold you, Hans.


You are always taking Mr. Deronda's name in vain.


And it is horrible, joking in that way about his marrying Mrs. Grandcourt.


Men's minds must be very black, I think," ended Mab, with much scorn.

Men's minds must be very black, I think."


"Quite true, my dear," said Hans, in a low tone, rising and turning on his heel to walk toward the back window.

"Quite true, my dear," said Hans, rising and walking toward the window.


"We had better go on, Mab; you have not given your full time to the lesson," said Mirah, in a higher tone than usual.

"We had better go on with your lesson, Mab," said Mirah, in a higher tone than usual.


"Will you sing this again, or shall I sing it to you?"


"Oh, please sing it to me," said Mab, rejoiced to take no more notice of what had happened.


And Mirah immediately sang _Lascia ch'io pianga_, giving forth its melodious sobs and cries with new fullness and energy.

Mirah immediately sang with new fullness and energy.


Hans paused in his walk and leaned against the mantel-piece, keeping his eyes carefully away from his mother's.

Hans leaned against the mantelpiece, keeping his eyes carefully away from his mother's.


When Mirah had sung her last note and touched the last chord, she rose and said, "I must go home now.

When Mirah had sung her last note, she rose and said, "I must go home now.


She gave her hand silently to Mrs. Meyrick and hung back a little, not daring to look at her, instead of kissing her, as usual.

She gave her hand silently to Mrs. Meyrick, instead of kissing her as usual.


But the little mother drew Mirah's face down to hers, and said, soothingly, "God bless you, my dear."


Mirah felt that she had committed an offense against Mrs. Meyrick by angrily rebuking Hans, and mixed with the rest of her suffering was the sense that she had shown something like a proud ingratitude, an unbecoming assertion of superiority.

She feared that she had offended Mrs. Meyrick by angrily rebuking Hans; but the little mother sensed this, and drew Mirah's face to hers, saying soothingly, "God bless you, my dear."


And her friend had divined this compunction.


Meanwhile Hans had seized his wide-awake, and was ready to open the door.


"Now, Hans," said Mab, with what was really a sister's tenderness cunningly disguised, "you are not going to walk home with Mirah.

"Now, Hans," said Mab, "you are not going to walk home with Mirah.


You are so dreadfully disagreeable to-day."


"I shall go to take care of her, if she does not forbid me," said Hans, opening the door.


Mirah said nothing, and when he had opened the outer door for her and closed it behind him, he walked by her side unforbidden.

Mirah said nothing, and when he had closed the door behind them, he walked by her side unforbidden.


She had not the courage to begin speaking to him again--conscious that she had perhaps been unbecomingly severe in her words to him, yet finding only severer words behind them in her heart.

She had not the courage to begin speaking to him again,


Besides, she was pressed upon by a crowd of thoughts thrusting themselves forward as interpreters of that consciousness which still remained unaltered to herself.

and she was pressed upon by a crowd of thoughts thrusting themselves forward.


Hans, on his side, had a mind equally busy.


Mirah's anger had waked in him a new perception, and with it the unpleasant sense that he was a dolt not to have had it before.


Suppose Mirah's heart were entirely preoccupied with Deronda in another character than that of her own and her brother's benefactor; the supposition was attended in Hans's mind with anxieties which, to do him justice, were not altogether selfish.

Suppose Mirah's heart were entirely preoccupied with Deronda in another character than that of her benefactor?


He had a strong persuasion, which only direct evidence to the contrary could have dissipated, and that was that there was a serious attachment between Deronda and Mrs. Grandcourt; he had pieced together many fragments of observation, and gradually gathered knowledge, completed by what his sisters had heard from Anna Gascoigne, which convinced him not only that Mrs. Grandcourt had a passion for Deronda, but also, notwithstanding his friend's austere self-repression, that Deronda's susceptibility about her was the sign of concealed love.

He believed that there was a serious attachment between Deronda and Mrs. Grandcourt; he had pieced together many fragments of observation, which convinced him not only that Mrs. Grandcourt had a passion for Deronda, but also that his austere self-repression concealed love for her.


Some men, having such a conviction, would have avoided allusions that could have roused that susceptibility; but Hans's talk naturally fluttered toward mischief, and he was given to a form of experiment on live animals which consisted in irritating his friends playfully.


His experiments had ended in satisfying him that what he thought likely was true.


On the other hand, any susceptibility Deronda had manifested about a lover's attentions being shown to Mirah, Hans took to be sufficiently accounted for by the alleged reason, namely, her dependent position; for he credited his friend with all possible unselfish anxiety for those whom he could rescue and protect.

As for Deronda's annoyance at his aspiring to love Mirah, Hans took this to be accounted for by her dependent position; for he credited his friend with all possible unselfish anxiety for those whom he could rescue and protect.


And Deronda's insistence that Mirah would never marry one who was not a Jew necessarily seemed to exclude himself, since Hans shared the ordinary opinion, which he knew nothing to disturb, that Deronda was the son of Sir Hugo Mallinger.

And Deronda's insistence that Mirah would never marry one who was not a Jew seemed to exclude himself, since Hans shared the general opinion that Deronda was Sir Hugo's son.


Thus he felt himself in clearness about the state of Deronda's affections; but now, the events which really struck him as concurring toward the desirable union with Mrs. Grandcourt, had called forth a flash of revelation from Mirah--a betrayal of her passionate feeling on this subject which had made him melancholy on her account as well as his own--yet on the whole less melancholy than if he had imagined Deronda's hopes fixed on her.

Thus he felt clear about Deronda's affections; but now, he had seen a flash of revelation from Mirah - a betrayal of her passionate feeling on this subject which made him melancholy on her account as well as his own - yet on the whole, less melancholy than if he had imagined Deronda's hopes fixed on her.


It is not sublime, but it is common, for a man to see the beloved object unhappy because his rival loves another, with more fortitude and a milder jealousy than if he saw her entirely happy in his rival.


At least it was so with the mercurial Hans, who fluctuated between the contradictory states of feeling, wounded because Mirah was wounded, and of being almost obliged to Deronda for loving somebody else.

Hans fluctuated between the contradictory states of feeling wounded because Mirah was wounded, and of being almost obliged to Deronda for loving somebody else.


It was impossible for him to give Mirah any direct sign of the way in which he had understood her anger, yet he longed that his speechless companionship should be eloquent in a tender, penitent sympathy which is an admissible form of wooing a bruised heart.

He longed that his speechless companionship should be eloquent in tender sympathy, an admissible form of wooing a bruised heart.


Thus the two went side by side in a companionship that yet seemed an agitated communication, like that of two chords whose quick vibrations lie outside our hearing.


But when they reached the door of Mirah's home, and Hans said "Good-bye," putting out his hand with an appealing look of penitence, she met the look with melancholy gentleness, and said, "Will you not come in and see my brother?"

to the door of Mirah's home, and when Hans said "Good-bye," with a look of penitence, she said gently, "Will you not come in and see my brother?"


Hans could not but interpret this invitation as a sign of pardon.

Hans interpreted this as a sign of pardon.


He had not enough understanding of what Mirah's nature had been wrought into by her early experience, to divine how the very strength of her late excitement had made it pass more quickly into the resolute acceptance of pain.

He did not understand how Mirah had been taught by her early experience to accept pain with resolution.


When he had said, "If you will let me," and they went in together, half his grief was gone, and he was spinning a little romance of how his devotion might make him indispensable to Mirah in proportion as Deronda gave his devotion elsewhere.

When they went in together, half his grief was gone, and he was spinning a little romance of how his devotion might make him indispensable to Mirah.


This was quite fair, since his friend was provided for according to his own heart; and on the question of Judaism Hans felt thoroughly fortified:--who ever heard in tale or history that a woman's love went in the track of her race and religion?

This was quite fair, since his friend loved another; and on the question of Judaism Hans felt thoroughly fortified: for in tales and history


Moslem and Jewish damsels were always attracted toward Christians, and now if Mirah's heart had gone forth too precipitately toward Deronda, here was another case in point.

, Moslem and Jewish damsels were always attracted toward Christians.


Hans was wont to make merry with his own arguments, to call himself a Giaour, and antithesis the sole clue to events; but he believed a little in what he laughed at.


And thus his bird-like hope, constructed on the lightest principles, soared again in spite of heavy circumstances.

And thus his bird-like hope, constructed on the lightest principles, soared again.


They found Mordecai looking singularly happy, holding a closed letter in his hand, his eyes glowing with a quiet triumph which in his emaciated face gave the idea of a conquest over assailing death.

They found Mordecai looking singularly happy, holding a letter, his eyes glowing with a quiet triumph which in his emaciated face gave the idea of a conquest over death.


After the greeting between him and Hans, Mirah put her arm round her brother's neck and looked down at the letter in his hand, without the courage to ask about it, though she felt sure that it was the cause of his happiness.

Mirah put her arm round his neck, not daring to ask about the letter.


"A letter from Daniel Deronda," said Mordecai, answering her look.

"It is from Daniel Deronda," said Mordecai.


"Brief--only saying that he hopes soon to return.

"Brief - only saying that he hopes soon to return.


The promise of seeing him again is like the bow in the cloud to me," continued Mordecai, looking at Hans; "and to you it must be a gladness.

The promise of seeing him again is like the rainbow in the cloud to me," he continued, looking at Hans; "and to you it must be a gladness."


While Hans was answering Mirah slipped away to her own room; but not to indulge in any outburst of the passion within her.

While Hans was answering Mirah slipped away to her own room; but not to indulge in any outburst of passion.


If the angels, once supposed to watch the toilet of women, had entered the little chamber with her and let her shut the door behind them, they would only have seen her take off her hat, sit down and press her hands against her temples as if she had suddenly reflected that her head ached; then rise to dash cold water on her eyes and brow and hair till her backward curls were full of crystal beads, while she had dried her brow and looked out like a freshly-opened flower from among the dewy tresses of the woodland; then give deep sighs of relief, and putting on her little slippers, sit still after that action for a couple of minutes, which seemed to her so long, so full of things to come, that she rose with an air of recollection, and went down to make tea.

She merely took off her hat, sat down and pressed her hands against her temples as if her head ached; dashed cold water on her eyes and brow; and then, with deep sighs of relief, put on her slippers and sat still for a couple of minutes, which seemed to her so long that she rose again, and went down to make tea.


She had been used to remember that she must learn her part, must go to rehearsal, must act and sing in the evening, must hide her feelings from her father; and the more painful her life grew, the more she had been used to hide.

She had been used to remember that she must learn her part, must rehearse, must hide her feelings from her father; and the more painful her life grew, the more she had been used to hide.


The force of her nature had long found its chief action in resolute endurance, and to-day the violence of feeling which had caused the first jet of anger had quickly transformed itself into a steady facing of trouble, the well-known companion of her young years.

She had learnt resolute endurance, and today her first violence of feeling had quickly transformed itself into a steady facing of trouble, the well-known companion of her young years.


But while she moved about and spoke as usual, a close observer might have discerned a difference between this apparent calm, which was the effect of restraining energy, and the sweet genuine calm of the months when she first felt a return of her infantine happiness.

But while she spoke as usual, a close observer might have discerned a difference between this apparent calm, which was the effect of restraint, and the sweet genuine calm of the previous months.


Those who have been indulged by fortune and have always thought of calamity as what happens to others, feel a blind incredulous rage at the reversal of their lot, and half believe that their wild cries will alter the course of the storm.

Those who have been indulged by fortune feel a blind incredulous rage at the reversal of their lot, and half believe that their wild cries will alter the course of the storm.


Mirah felt no such surprise when familiar Sorrow came back from brief absence, and sat down with her according to the old use and wont.

Mirah felt no such surprise when familiar Sorrow came back from brief absence, and sat down with her according to the old use.


And this habit of expecting trouble rather than joy, hindered her from having any persistent belief in opposition to the probabilities which were not merely suggested by Hans, but were supported by her own private knowledge and long-growing presentiment.

And this habit of expecting trouble rather than joy, inclined her to believe in the


An attachment between Deronda and Mrs. Grandcourt, to end in their future marriage, had the aspect of a certainty for her feeling.

probability of an attachment between Deronda and Mrs. Grandcourt, and the certainly that they would marry.


There had been no fault in him: facts had ordered themselves so that there was a tie between him and this woman who belonged to another world than hers and Ezra's--nay, who seemed another sort of being than Deronda, something foreign that would be a disturbance in his life instead of blending with it.

There was a tie between him and this woman who belonged to another world than hers.


Well, well--but if it could have been deferred so as to make no difference while Ezra was there!

Well, well - if it could have been deferred so as to make no difference while Ezra was there!


She did not know all the momentousness of the relation between Deronda and her brother, but she had seen, and instinctively felt enough to forebode its being incongruous with any close tie to Mrs. Grandcourt; at least this was the clothing that Mirah first gave to her mortal repugnance.

She felt instinctively that the relation between Deronda and her brother was incongruous with any close tie to Mrs. Grandcourt.


But in the still, quick action of her consciousness, thoughts went on like changing states of sensation unbroken by her habitual acts; and this inward language soon said distinctly that the mortal repugnance would remain even if Ezra were secured from loss.

But in the still, quick action of her consciousness, her thoughts soon said distinctly that her repugnance would remain even if Ezra were secured from loss.


"What I have read about and sung about and seen acted, is happening to me--this that I am feeling is the love that makes jealousy;" so impartially Mirah summed up the charge against herself.

"What I have read and sung about, is happening to me - this is the love that makes jealousy;" so impartially Mirah summed up the charge against herself.


But what difference could this pain of hers make to any one else?

But what difference could this pain of hers make to anyone?


It must remain as exclusively her own, and hidden, as her early yearning and devotion to her lost mother.


But unlike that devotion, it was something that she felt to be a misfortune of her nature--a discovery that what should have been pure gratitude and reverence had sunk into selfish pain, that the feeling she had hitherto delighted to pour out in words was degraded into something she was ashamed to betray--an absurd longing that she who had received all and given nothing should be of importance where she was of no importance--an angry feeling toward another woman who possessed the good she wanted.

What should have been pure gratitude and reverence had sunk into selfish pain; the feeling she had hitherto delighted to pour out in words was degraded into something she was ashamed to betray - an absurd longing that she who had received all and given nothing should be of importance where she was of no importance.


But what notion, what vain reliance could it be that had lain darkly within her and was now burning itself into sight as disappointment and jealousy?


It was as if her soul had been steeped in poisonous passion by forgotten dreams of deep sleep, and now flamed out in this unaccountable misery.

It was as if her soul had been steeped in poisonous passion by forgotten dreams in sleep, and now flamed out in this unaccountable misery.


For with her waking reason she had never entertained what seemed the wildly unfitting thought that Deronda could love her.

For with her waking reason she had never entertained the thought that Deronda could love her.


The uneasiness she had felt before had been comparatively vague and easily explained as part of a general regret that he was only a visitant in her and her brother's world, from which the world where his home lay was as different as a portico with lights and lacqueys was different from the door of a tent, where the only splendor came from the mysterious inaccessible stars.

Her previous vague uneasiness had been easily explained as a general regret that he was only a visitant in her brother's world, which was so different to his.


But her feeling was no longer vague: the cause of her pain--the image of Mrs. Grandcourt by Deronda's side, drawing him farther and farther into the distance, was as definite as pincers on her flesh.

But her feeling was no longer vague: the cause of her pain - the image of Mrs. Grandcourt by Deronda's side - was as sharp as pincers on her flesh.


In the Psyche-mould of Mirah's frame there rested a fervid quality of emotion, sometimes rashly supposed to require the bulk of a Cleopatra; her impressions had the thoroughness and tenacity that give to the first selection of passionate feeling the character of a lifelong faithfulness.


And now a selection had declared itself, which gave love a cruel heart of jealousy: she had been used to a strong repugnance toward certain objects that surrounded her, and to walk inwardly aloof from them while they touched her sense.


And now her repugnance concentrated itself on Mrs. Grandcourt, of whom she involuntarily conceived more evil than she knew.


"I could bear everything that used to be--but this is worse--this is worse,--I used not to have horrible feelings!"

"I could bear everything that used to be - but this is worse - I used not to have horrible feelings!"


said the poor child in a loud whisper to her pillow.

said the poor child in a whisper to her pillow.


Strange that she should have to pray against any feeling which concerned Deronda!


But this conclusion had been reached through an evening spent in attending to Mordecai, whose exaltation of spirit in the prospect of seeing his friend again, disposed him to utter many thoughts aloud to Mirah, though such communication was often interrupted by intervals apparently filled with an inward utterance that animated his eyes and gave an occasional silent action to his lips.

But this conclusion had been reached through an evening spent with Mordecai, whose exaltation in the prospect of seeing his friend made him voice many thoughts aloud to Mirah.


"Seest thou, Mirah," he said once, after a long silence, "the _Shemah_, wherein we briefly confess the divine Unity, is the chief devotional exercise of the Hebrew; and this made our religion the fundamental religion for the whole world; for the divine Unity embraced as its consequence the ultimate unity of mankind.

"Seest thou, Mirah," he said, "the Shemah, wherein we confess the divine Unity, is the chief devotional exercise of the Hebrew; and this made our religion the fundamental religion for the whole world.


See, then--the nation which has been scoffed at for its separateness, has given a binding theory to the human race.

See, then - the nation which has been scoffed at for its separateness, has given a binding theory to the human race.


Now, in complete unity a part possesses the whole as the whole possesses every part: and in this way human life is tending toward the image of the Supreme Unity: for as our life becomes more spiritual by capacity of thought, and joy therein, possession tends to become more universal, being independent of gross material contact; so that in a brief day the soul of man may know in fuller volume the good which has been and is, nay, is to come, than all he could possess in a whole life where he had to follow the creeping paths of the senses.

Now, in complete unity a part possesses the whole as the whole possesses every part: and in this way human life is tending toward the image of the Supreme Unity: for as our life becomes more spiritual, possession becomes more universal, and independent of material contact; so that in a brief day the soul of man may know more fully the good which has been and is to come, than all he could possess in a whole life where he had to follow the creeping paths of the senses.


In this moment, my sister, I hold the joy of another's future within me: a future which these eyes will not see, and which my spirit may not then recognize as mine.

I hold the joy of another's future within me: a future which these eyes will not see.


I recognize it now, and love it so, that I can lay down this poor life upon its altar and say: 'Burn, burn indiscernibly into that which shall be, which is my love and not me.'

I love it so, that I can lay down this poor life upon its altar and say: 'Burn, burn indiscernibly into that which shall be, which is my love and not me.'


"A little," said Mirah, faintly, "but my mind is too poor to have felt it."


"And yet," said Mordecai, rather insistently, "women are specially framed for the love which feels possession in renouncing, and is thus a fit image of what I mean.

"And yet," said Mordecai, rather insistently, "women are specially framed for the love which feels possession in renouncing.


Somewhere in the later _Midrash_, I think, is the story of a Jewish maiden who loved a Gentile king so well, that this was what she did:--she entered into prison and changed clothes with the woman who was beloved by the king, that she might deliver that woman from death by dying in her stead, and leave the king to be happy in his love which was not for her.

Somewhere in the later Midrash, I think, is the story of a Jewish maiden who loved a Gentile king so well, that she entered into prison and changed clothes with the woman who was beloved by the king, that she might deliver that woman from death by dying in her stead, and leave the king to be happy in his love which was not for her.


This is the surpassing love, that loses self in the object of love."

This is the surpassing love, that loses self."


"No, Ezra, no," said Mirah, with low-toned intensity, "that was not it.


She wanted the king when she was dead to know what she had done, and feel that she was better than the other.

She wanted the king when she was dead to know what she had done, and to feel that she was better than the other.


It was her strong self, wanting to conquer, that made her die."


Mordecai was silent a little, and then argued,


But if she acted so, believing the king would never know."


"You can make the story so in your mind, Ezra, because you are great, and like to fancy the greatest that could be.


But I think it was not really like that.


The Jewish girl must have had jealousy in her heart, and she wanted somehow to have the first place in the king's mind.


"My sister, thou hast read too many plays, where the writers delight in showing the human passions as indwelling demons, unmixed with the relenting and devout elements of the soul.

"My sister, thou hast read too many plays.


Thou judgest by the plays, and not by thy own heart, which is like our mother's."

Thou judgest by those, and not by thy own heart, which is like our mother's."


"And you must love him ere to you He will seem worthy of your love."


One might be tempted to envy Deronda providing new clothes for Mordecai, and pleasing himself as if he were sketching a picture in imagining the effect of the fine gray flannel shirts and a dressing-gown very much like a Franciscan's brown frock, with Mordecai's head and neck above them.

Deronda, having provided new clothes for Mordecai, was pleased with the effect of the fine grey flannel shirts and a dressing-gown like a Franciscan's brown robe, with Mordecai's head above them.


Half his pleasure was the sense of seeing Mirah's brother through her eyes, and securing her fervid joy from any perturbing impression.


And yet, after he had made all things ready, he was visited with doubt whether he were not mistaking her, and putting the lower effect for the higher: was she not just as capable as he himself had been of feeling the impressive distinction in her brother all the more for that aspect of poverty which was among the memorials of his past?

He knew that Mirah would see her brother's distinction through any appearance of poverty


But there were the Meyricks to be propitiated toward this too Judaic brother; and Deronda detected himself piqued into getting out of sight everything that might feed the ready repugnance in minds unblessed with that precious "seeing," that bathing of all objects in a solemnity as of sun-set glow, which is begotten of a loving reverential emotion.

; but there were the Meyricks to be propitiated, and Deronda found himself putting out of sight everything that might feed their repugnance.


And his inclination would have been the more confirmed if he had heard the dialogue round Mrs. Meyrick's fire late in the evening, after Mirah had gone to her room.

This inclination would have been confirmed if he had heard the dialogue round Mrs. Meyrick's fire in the evening, after Mirah had gone to her room.


Hans, settled now in his Chelsea rooms, had stayed late, and Mrs. Meyrick, poking the fire into a blaze, said,

Hans had stayed late, and Mrs. Meyrick said-


"Now, Kate, put out your candle, and all come round the fire cosily.


Hans, dear, do leave off laughing at those poems for the ninety-ninth time, and come too.


I have seen it in the corner of your eye ever so long, and in your pretense of errands," said Kate, while the girls came up to put their feet on the fender, and Hans, pushing his chair near them, sat astride it, resting his fists and chin on the back.

I have seen it in your eye ever so long," said Kate, while the girls came up to put their feet on the fender, and Hans sat astride his chair.


"Well, then, if you are so wise, perhaps you know that Mirah's brother is found!"


said Mrs. Meyrick, in her clearest accents.


"I _cannot_ help being rather sorry," said Kate.

"I cannot help being rather sorry," said Kate.


"I hope the brother is not a bad man," said Amy.


"Nor a fellow all smiles and jewelry--a Crystal Palace Assyrian with a hat on," said Hans, in the worst humor.

"Nor a fellow all smiles and jewellery," said Hans, in the worst humour.


"Were there ever such unfeeling children?"


said Mrs. Meyrick, a little strengthened by the need for opposition.


"You don't think the least bit of Mirah's joy in the matter."

"You don't think about Mirah's joy in the matter."


"You know, ma, Mirah hardly remembers her brother," said Kate.

"Mirah hardly remembers her brother," said Kate.


"People who are lost for twelve years should never come back again," said Hans.


"If you had lost me for _twenty_ years, I should have thought--"


"Anywhere about twelve years is the time at which lost relations should keep out of the way."


"Well, but it's nice finding people--there is something to tell," said Mab, clasping her knees.

"But it's nice finding people - there is something to tell," said Mab, clasping her knees.


Then Mrs. Meyrick, in her neat, narrative way, told all she knew without interruption.

Then Mrs. Meyrick, in her neat way, told all she knew without interruption.


"Mr. Deronda has the highest admiration for him," she ended--"seems quite to look up to him.

"Mr. Deronda has the highest admiration for him," she ended,- "


And he says Mirah is just the sister to understand this brother."

and he says Mirah is just the sister to understand this brother."


"Deronda is getting perfectly preposterous about those Jews," said Hans with disgust, rising and setting his chair away with a bang.

"Deronda is getting perfectly preposterous about those Jews," said Hans, standing up in disgust.


"He wants to do everything he can to encourage Mirah in her prejudices."


"Oh, for shame, Hans!--to speak in that way of Mr. Deronda," said Mab.

"Oh, for shame, Hans!- to speak in that way of Mr. Deronda," said Mab.


And Mrs. Meyrick's face showed something like an under-current of expression not allowed to get to the surface.

And Mrs. Meyrick's face showed an under-current of expression not allowed to surface.


"And now we shall never be all together," Hans went on, walking about with his hands thrust into the pockets of his brown velveteen coat, "but we must have this prophet Elijah to tea with us, and Mirah will think of nothing but sitting on the ruins of Jerusalem.

"And now we shall never be all together," Hans went on, walking about with his hands thrust into his pockets, "but we must have this prophet Elijah to tea with us, and Mirah will think of nothing but sitting on the ruins of Jerusalem.


She will be spoiled as an artist--mind that--she will get as narrow as a nun.


Everything will be spoiled--our home and everything.


"Oh, really, Hans," said Kate, impatiently.


"I do think men are the most contemptible animals in all creation.


Every one of them must have everything to his mind, else he is unbearable."


"I feel as if ancient Nineveh were come again."


"I should like to know what is the good of having gone to the university and knowing everything, if you are so childish, Hans," said Amy.

"What is the good of going to university and knowing everything, if you are so childish, Hans?" said Amy.


"You ought to put up with a man that Providence sends you to be kind to.

"You ought to be kind to a man that Providence sends you."


"I hope you will all of you like the new Lamentations of Jeremiah--'to be continued in our next'--that's all," said Hans, seizing his wide-awake.

"I hope you will like the Lamentations of Jeremiah - that's all," said Hans, seizing his hat.


"It's no use being one thing more than another if one has to endure the company of those men with a fixed idea, staring blankly at you, and requiring all your remarks to be small foot-notes to their text.

"I can't endure the company of those men with a fixed idea, staring blankly at you, and requiring all your remarks to be foot-notes to their text."


If you're to be under a petrifying wall, you'd better be an old boot.


Then abruptly, "Good night, little mother," bending to kiss her brow in a hasty, desperate manner, and condescendingly, on his way to the door, "Good-night, girls."

Then abruptly, "Good night, little mother," bending to kiss her brow, and condescendingly, on his way to the door, "Good-night, girls."


"Suppose Mirah knew how you are behaving," said Kate.


"I _should_ like to see Mirah when Mr. Deronda tells her," she went on to her mother.

"I should like to see Mirah when Mr. Deronda tells her," she went on to her mother.


But Deronda, on second thoughts, had written a letter, which Mrs. Meyrick received the next morning, begging her to make the revelation instead of waiting for him, not giving the real reason--that he shrank from going again through a narrative in which he seemed to be making himself important and giving himself a character of general beneficence--but saying that he wished to remain with Mordecai while Mrs. Meyrick would bring Mirah on what was to be understood as a visit, so that there might be a little interval before that change of abode which he expected that Mirah herself would propose.

But Deronda, on second thoughts, had written a letter which Mrs. Meyrick received next morning, begging her to make the revelation instead of waiting for him. He shrank from telling a story in which he seemed to make himself important; but he told Mrs. Meyrick that he wished to remain with Mordecai while she brought Mirah on a visit to see him.


Deronda secretly felt some wondering anxiety how far Mordecai, after years of solitary preoccupation with ideas likely to have become the more exclusive from continual diminution of bodily strength, would allow him to feel a tender interest in his sister over and above the rendering of pious duties.

Deronda secretly felt anxious as to how much tender interest in his sister Mordecai might be able to feel, after years of solitary preoccupation with ideas.


His feeling for the Cohens, and especially for little Jacob, showed a persistent activity of affection; but these objects had entered into his daily life for years; and Deronda felt it noticeable that Mordecai asked no new questions about Mirah, maintaining, indeed, an unusual silence on all subjects, and appearing simply to submit to the changes that were coming over his personal life.

He had shown affection for the Cohens, and especially little Jacob; but he had known them for years; and Deronda noticed that Mordecai asked no new questions about Mirah, but was unusually silent and submissive.


He donned the new clothes obediently, but said afterward to Deronda, with a faint smile, "I must keep my old garments by me for a remembrance."

He donned the new clothes obediently, but said to Deronda, with a faint smile, "I must keep my old garments for a remembrance."


And when they were seated, awaiting Mirah, he uttered no word, keeping his eyelids closed, but yet showing restless feeling in his face and hands.

And when they were seated, awaiting Mirah, he uttered no word, keeping his eyelids closed, but yet with restless hands and face.


In fact, Mordecai was undergoing that peculiar nervous perturbation only known to those whose minds, long and habitually moving with strong impetus in one current, are suddenly compelled into a new or reopened channel.

In fact, Mordecai was undergoing that nervous upheaval only known to those whose minds have long moved in one direction, when they are suddenly compelled into a new channel.


Susceptible people, whose strength has been long absorbed by dormant bias, dread an interview that imperiously revives the past, as they would dread a threatening illness.

They may dread an interview that imperiously revives the past, as they would dread a threatening illness.


Joy may be there, but joy, too, is terrible.


Deronda felt the infection of excitement, and when he heard the ring at the door, he went out, not knowing exactly why, that he might see and greet Mirah beforehand.

When Deronda heard the doorbell, he went out to greet Mirah beforehand.


He was startled to find that she had on the hat and cloak in which he had first seen her--the memorable cloak that had once been wetted for a winding-sheet.

He was startled to find that she had on the hat and cloak in which he had first seen her - the cloak that had been wetted for a winding-sheet.


She had come down-stairs equipped in this way; and when Mrs. Meyrick said, in a tone of question, "You like to go in that dress, dear?"


she answered, "My brother is poor, and I want to look as much like him as I can, else he may feel distant from me"--imagining that she should meet him in the workman's dress.

, "My brother is poor, and I want to look as much like him as I can, else he may feel distant from me" - imagining that she should meet him in workman's dress.


Deronda could not make any remark, but felt secretly rather ashamed of his own fastidious arrangements.

Deronda felt secretly rather ashamed of his own fastidious arrangements.


They shook hands silently, for Mirah looked pale and awed.


When Deronda opened the door for her, Mordecai had risen, and had his eyes turned toward it with an eager gaze.

When Deronda opened the door, Mordecai had risen, and turned his eyes toward it with an eager gaze.


Mirah took only two or three steps, and then stood still.

Mirah took two or three steps, and then stood still.


It was less their own presence that they felt than another's; they were meeting first in memories, compared with which touch was no union.

They were meeting first in memories, compared with which touch was no union.


Mirah was the first to break the silence, standing where she was.

Mirah was the first to break the silence.


"Ezra," she said, in exactly the same tone as when she was telling of her mother's call to him.


Mordecai with a sudden movement advanced and laid his hand on her shoulders.

Mordecai suddenly advanced and laid his hands on her shoulders.


He was the head taller, and looked down at her tenderly while he said, "That was our mother's voice.

He was a head taller, and looked down at her tenderly, saying, "That was our mother's voice.


"Yes, and how you answered her--'Mother!'

"Yes, and how you answered her - 'Mother!


Mirah threw her arms round her brother's neck, clasped her little hands behind it, and drew down his face, kissing it with childlike lavishness.

Mirah threw her arms round her brother's neck, and kissed his face with childlike lavishness.


Her hat fell backward on the ground and disclosed all her curls.

Her hat fell backward on the ground, disclosing her curls.


said Mordecai, in a low loving tone, laying his thin hand gently on the curls.


"You are very ill, Ezra," said Mirah, sadly looking at him with more observation.

"You are very ill, Ezra," said Mirah, with sad observation.


"Yes, dear child, I shall not be long with you in the body," was the quiet answer.


"Oh, I will love you and we will talk to each other," said Mirah, with a sweet outpouring of her words, as spontaneous as bird-notes.

"Oh, I will love you and we will talk to each other," said Mirah, her words as sweet and spontaneous as bird-notes.


"I will tell you everything, and you will teach me:--you will teach me to be a good Jewess--what she would have liked me to be.

"I will tell you everything, and you will teach me to be a good Jewess - what she would have liked me to be.


I shall always be with you when I am not working.


Mirah until now had quite forgotten that any one was by, but here she turned with the prettiest attitude, keeping one hand on her brother's arm while she looked at Mrs. Meyrick and Deronda.

Here Mirah turned with the prettiest attitude to look at Mrs. Meyrick and Deronda.


The little mother's happy emotion in witnessing this meeting of brother and sister had already won her to Mordecai, who seemed to her really to have more dignity and refinement than she had felt obliged to believe in from Deronda's account.

The little mother's happiness in witnessing this meeting had already won her to Mordecai, who had more dignity and refinement than she had expected.


"I was a stranger, a poor wanderer, and she believed in me, and has treated me as a daughter.

"I was a poor wanderer, and she believed in me, and has treated me as a daughter."


Please give my brother your hand," she added, beseechingly, taking Mrs. Meyrick's hand and putting it in Mordecai's, then pressing them both with her own and lifting them to her lips.

Taking Mrs. Meyrick's hand and putting it in Mordecai's, she pressed them both with her own before lifting them to her lips.


"The Eternal Goodness has been with you," said Mordecai.


"You have helped to fulfill our mother's prayer."


"I think we will go now, shall we?--and return later," said Deronda, laying a gentle pressure on Mrs. Meyrick's arm, and she immediately complied.

"I think we will go now, and return later," said Deronda, laying a gentle pressure on Mrs. Meyrick's arm.


He was afraid of any reference to the facts about himself which he had kept back from Mordecai, and he felt no uneasiness now in the thought of the brother and sister being alone together.

He felt no uneasiness now at the brother and sister being alone together.


"Questa montagna e tale, Che sempre al cominciar di sotto a grave.


It was not many days after her mother's arrival that Gwendolen would consent to remain at Genoa.

Gwendolen would not consent to remain at Genoa after her mother's arrival.


Her desire to get away from that gem of the sea, helped to rally her strength and courage.

Her desire to get away helped to rally her strength.


For what place, though it were the flowery vale of Enna, may not the inward sense turn into a circle of punishment where the flowers are no better than a crop of flame-tongues burning the soles of our feet?

For that gem of the sea had turned into a place of punishment.


"I shall never like to see the Mediterranean again," said Gwendolen, to her mother, who thought that she quite understood her child's feeling--even in her tacit prohibition of any express reference to her late husband.

"I shall never like to see the Mediterranean again," she said to her mother, who thought that she quite understood her child's feeling.


Mrs. Davilow, indeed, though compelled formally to regard this time as one of severe calamity, was virtually enjoying her life more than she had ever done since her daughter's marriage.

Mrs. Davilow, indeed, though compelled formally to regard this time as one of severe calamity, was enjoying her life more than she had ever done since her daughter's marriage.


It seemed that her darling was brought back to her not merely with all the old affection, but with a conscious cherishing of her mother's nearness, such as we give to a possession that we have been on the brink of losing.


cried Gwendolen, in the middle of the night (a bed had been made for her mother in the same room with hers), very much as she would have done in her early girlhood, if she had felt frightened in lying awake.

cried Gwendolen, in the middle of the night, as she had in her young girlhood. (A bed had been made for her mother in the same room with hers.)


"No, thank you; only I like so to know you are there.


(This question would hardly have been Gwendolen's in her early girlhood.)

(Gwendolen would hardly have asked this in her early girlhood.)


"It seemed not real that you were with me.


But you must not lie awake, anxious about me.


You must let me make you happy now at last--else what shall I do?"

You must let me make you happy now at last."


"God bless you, dear; I have the best happiness I can have, when you make much of me."

"God bless you, dear; I have the best happiness possible, when you make much of me."


But the next night, hearing that she was sighing and restless Mrs. Davilow said, "Let me give you your sleeping-draught, Gwendolen."

But the next night, hearing that she was sighing and restless, Mrs. Davilow said, "Let me give you your sleeping-draught, Gwendolen."


"No, mamma, thank you; I don't want to sleep."


"It would be so good for you to sleep more, my darling."

"It would be good for you to sleep more, my darling."


"Don't say what would be good for me, mamma," Gwendolen answered, impetuously.

"Don't say what would be good for me, mamma," Gwendolen answered impetuously.


"You don't know what would be good for me.


You and my uncle must not contradict me and tell me anything is good for me when I feel it is not good."

You and my uncle must not contradict me and tell me what would be good for me."


Mrs. Davilow was silent, not wondering that the poor child was irritable.


"Yes, I was," said Gwendolen insistently.


"It is because I was always wicked that I am miserable now."


The determination to be silent about all the facts of her married life and its close, reacted in these escapes of enigmatic excitement.

The determination to be silent about the facts of her married life reacted in these escapes.


But dim lights of interpretation were breaking on the mother's mind through the information that came from Sir Hugo to Mr. Gascoigne, and, with some omissions, from Mr. Gascoigne to herself.

But light was breaking on the mother's mind through the information that came to her from Sir Hugo, through Mr. Gascoigne.


The good-natured baronet, while he was attending to all decent measures in relation to his nephew's death, and the possible washing ashore of the body, thought it the kindest thing he could do to use his present friendly intercourse with the rector as an opportunity for communicating with him, in the mildest way, the purport of Grandcourt's will, so as to save him the additional shock that would be in store for him if he carried his illusions all the way home.

The good-natured baronet thought it best to tell the rector the purport of Grandcourt's will, so as to save him the shock that would be in store for him otherwise.


Perhaps Sir Hugo would have been communicable enough without that kind motive, but he really felt the motive.


He broke the unpleasant news to the rector by degrees: at first he only implied his fear that the widow was not so splendidly provided for as Mr. Gascoigne, nay, as the baronet himself had expected; and only at last, after some previous vague reference to large claims on Grandcourt, he disclosed the prior relations which, in the unfortunate absence of a legitimate heir, had determined all the splendor in another direction.


The rector was deeply hurt, and remembered, more vividly than he had ever done before, how offensively proud and repelling the manners of the deceased had been toward him--remembered also that he himself, in that interesting period just before the arrival of the new occupant at Diplow, had received hints of former entangling dissipations, and an undue addiction to pleasure, though he had not foreseen that the pleasure which had probably, so to speak, been swept into private rubbish-heaps, would ever present itself as an array of live caterpillars, disastrous to the green meat of respectable people.

The rector was deeply hurt, and remembered, more vividly than before, how offensively proud and repelling the manners of the deceased had been - remembered also that he himself had received hints of former entangling dissipations.


But he did not make these retrospective thoughts audible to Sir Hugo, or lower himself by expressing any indignation on merely personal grounds, but behaved like a man of the world who had become a conscientious clergyman.

However, he did not express these thoughts, but remarked-


"When a young man makes his will in health, he usually counts on living a long while.


Probably Mr. Grandcourt did not believe that this will would ever have its present effect."


After a moment, he added, "The effect is painful in more ways than one.


Female morality is likely to suffer from this marked advantage and prominence being given to illegitimate offspring."


"Well, in point of fact," said Sir Hugo, in his comfortable way, "since the boy is there, this was really the best alternative for the disposal of the estates.


Grandcourt had nobody nearer than his cousin.


And it's a chilling thought that you go out of this life only for the benefit of a cousin.


A man gets a little pleasure in making his will, if it's for the good of his own curly heads; but it's a nuisance when you're giving the bequeathing to a used-up fellow like yourself, and one you don't care two straws for.


It's the next worse thing to having only a life interest in your estates.


No; I forgive Grandcourt for that part of his will.


But, between ourselves, what I don't forgive him for, is the shabby way he has provided for your niece--_our_ niece, I will say--no better a position than if she had been a doctor's widow.

But what I don't forgive him for, is the shabby way he has provided for your niece.


Nothing grates on me more than that posthumous grudgingness toward a wife.


A man ought to have some pride and fondness for his widow.


I take it as a test of a man, that he feels the easier about his death when he can think of his wife and daughters being comfortable after it.


I like that story of the fellows in the Crimean war, who were ready to go to the bottom of the sea if their widows were provided for."


"It has certainly taken me by surprise," said Mr. Gascoigne, "all the more because, as the one who stood in the place of father to my niece, I had shown my reliance on Mr. Grandcourt's apparent liberality in money matters by making no claims for her beforehand.


That seemed to me due to him under the circumstances.


If you marry another niece, though it may be to the Archbishop of Canterbury, bind him down.


Your niece can't be married for the first time twice over.


And if he's a good fellow, he'll wish to be bound.


But as to Mrs. Grandcourt, I can only say that I feel my relation to her all the nearer because I think that she has not been well treated.


And I hope you will urge her to rely on me as a friend."


Thus spake the chivalrous Sir Hugo, in his disgust at the young and beautiful widow of a Mallinger Grandcourt being left with only two thousand a year and a house in a coal-mining district.


To the rector that income naturally appeared less shabby and less accompanied with mortifying privations; but in this conversation he had devoured a much keener sense than the baronet's of the humiliation cast over his niece, and also over her nearest friends, by the conspicuous publishing of her husband's relation to Mrs. Glasher.

To the rector that income naturally appeared less shabby; but he had a keener sense of the humiliation cast over his niece, and also over her nearest friends, by the publishing of her husband's relation to Mrs. Glasher.


And like all men who are good husbands and fathers, he felt the humiliation through the minds of the women who would be chiefly affected by it; so that the annoyance of first hearing the facts was far slighter than what he felt in communicating them to Mrs. Davilow, and in anticipating Gwendolen's feeling whenever her mother saw fit to tell her of them.

He felt the unpleasantness of communicating the facts to Mrs. Davilow, who had to tell Gwendolen.


For the good rector had an innocent conviction that his niece was unaware of Mrs. Glasher's existence, arguing with masculine soundness from what maidens and wives were likely to know, do, and suffer, and having had a most imperfect observation of the particular maiden and wife in question.

For the good rector had an innocent conviction that his niece was unaware of Mrs. Glasher's existence.


Not so Gwendolen's mother, who now thought that she saw an explanation of much that had been enigmatic in her child's conduct and words before and after her engagement, concluding that in some inconceivable way Gwendolen had been informed of this left-handed marriage and the existence of the children.

Not so Gwendolen's mother, who now thought that she saw an explanation of much that had been enigmatic in her child's conduct, concluding that in some way Gwendolen had been informed of this left-handed marriage and the existence of the children.


She trusted to opportunities that would arise in moments of affectionate confidence before and during their journey to England, when she might gradually learn how far the actual state of things was clear to Gwendolen, and prepare her for anything that might be a disappointment.

She trusted that Gwendolen might confide in her during their journey to England, so that she could prepare her for any disappointment.


But she was spared from devices on the subject.


"I hope you don't expect that I am going to be rich and grand, mamma," said Gwendolen, not long after the rector's communication; "perhaps I shall have nothing at all."

"I hope you don't expect that I am going to be rich and grand, mamma," said Gwendolen; "perhaps I shall have nothing."


She was dressed, and had been sitting long in quiet meditation.


Mrs. Davilow was startled, but said, after a moment's reflection,

Mrs. Davilow was startled, but said, after a moment's reflection-


"That will not decide," said Gwendolen, abruptly.


"Surely, dear: Sir Hugo says you are to have two thousand a year and the house at Gadsmere."


"What I have will depend on what I accept," said Gwendolen.


"You and my uncle must not attempt to cross me and persuade me about this.

"You and my uncle must not attempt to cross me.


I will do everything I can do to make you happy, but in anything about my husband I must not be interfered with.


Is eight hundred a year enough for you, mamma?"


You must not think of giving me so much."


Mrs. Davilow paused a little, and then said, "Do you know who is to have the estates and the rest of the money?"

Mrs. Davilow paused, and then said, "Do you know who is to have the rest of the money?"


"Yes," said Gwendolen, waving her hand in dismissal of the subject.


It is all perfectly right, and I wish never to have it mentioned."


The mother was silent, looked away, and rose to fetch a fan-screen, with a slight flush on her delicate cheeks.


Wondering, imagining, she did not like to meet her daughter's eyes, and sat down again under a sad constraint.

She did not like to meet her daughter's eyes, and sat down again under a sad constraint,


What wretchedness her child had perhaps gone through, which yet must remain as it always had been, locked away from their mutual speech.

wondering what wretchedness her child had perhaps gone through.


But Gwendolen was watching her mother with that new divination which experience had given her; and in tender relenting at her own peremptoriness, said, "Come and sit nearer to me, mamma, and don't be unhappy."

But Gwendolen was watching her mother with that new divination which experience had given her; and said tenderly, "Come and sit nearer, mamma, and don't be unhappy."


Mrs. Davilow did as she was told, but bit her lips in the vain attempt to hinder smarting tears.


Gwendolen leaned toward her caressingly and said, "I mean to be very wise; I do, really.


And good--oh, so good to you, dear, old, sweet mamma, you won't know me.

And so good to you, dear, old, sweet mamma, you won't know me.


The resolve that Gwendolen had in her mind was that she would ask Deronda whether she ought to accept any of her husband's money--whether she might accept what would enable her to provide for her mother.

Gwendolen had resolved to ask Deronda whether she ought to accept any of her husband's money - whether she might accept enough to provide for her mother.


The poor thing felt strong enough to do anything that would give her a higher place in Deronda's mind.


An invitation that Sir Hugo pressed on her with kind urgency was that she and Mrs. Davilow should go straight with him to Park Lane, and make his house their abode as long as mourning and other details needed attending to in London.

Sir Hugo kindly invited Gwendolen and Mrs. Davilow to Park Lane, to stay for as long as they needed.


Town, he insisted, was just then the most retired of places; and he proposed to exert himself at once in getting all articles belonging to Gwendolen away from the house in Grosvenor Square.


No proposal could have suited her better than this of staying a little while in Park Lane.

No proposal could have suited Gwendolen better.


It would be easy for her there to have an interview with Deronda, if she only knew how to get a letter into his hands, asking him to come to her.

It would be easy for her there to have an interview with Deronda, if she could only get a letter to him.


During the journey, Sir Hugo, having understood that she was acquainted with the purport of her husband's will, ventured to talk before her and to her about her future arrangements, referring here and there to mildly agreeable prospects as matters of course, and otherwise shedding a decorous cheerfulness over her widowed position.

During the journey, Sir Hugo ventured to talk to her about her future arrangements.


It seemed to him really the more graceful course for a widow to recover her spirits on finding that her husband had not dealt as handsomely by her as he might have done; it was the testator's fault if he compromised all her grief at his departure by giving a testamentary reason for it, so that she might be supposed to look sad, not because he had left her, but because he had left her poor.


The baronet, having his kindliness doubly fanned by the favorable wind on his fortunes and by compassion for Gwendolen, had become quite fatherly in his behavior to her, called her "my dear," and in mentioning Gadsmere to Mr. Gascoigne, with its various advantages and disadvantages, spoke of what "we" might do to make the best of that property.

He had become quite fatherly towards her, calling her "my dear," and in mentioning Gadsmere, spoke of what "we" might do to make the best of that property.


Gwendolen sat by in pale silence while Sir Hugo, with his face turned toward Mrs. Davilow or Mr. Gascoigne, conjectured that Mrs. Grandcourt might perhaps prefer letting Gadsmere to residing there during any part of the year, in which case he thought that it might be leased on capital terms to one of the fellows engaged with the coal: Sir Hugo had seen enough of the place to know that it was as comfortable and picturesque a box as any man need desire, providing his desires were circumscribed within a coal area.

Gwendolen sat in pale silence while Sir Hugo, addressing Mrs. Davilow or Mr. Gascoigne, conjectured that Mrs. Grandcourt might prefer letting Gadsmere to residing there, in which case he thought that it might be leased to one of the fellows engaged with the coal.


"_I_ shouldn't mind about the soot myself," said the baronet, with that dispassionateness which belongs to the potential mood.


And if one's business lay there, Gadsmere would be a paradise.

"If one's business lay there, Gadsmere would be a paradise," he said.


It makes quite a feature in Scrogg's history of the county, with the little tower and the fine piece of water--the prettiest print in the book."


"A more important place than Offendene, I suppose?"


"I was there with my poor brother--it is more than a quarter of a century ago, but I remember it very well.


The rooms may not be larger, but the grounds are on a different scale."


"Our poor dear Offendene is empty after all," said Mrs. Davilow.


"When it came to the point, Mr. Haynes declared off, and there has been no one to take it since.

"Mr. Haynes cried off, and no-one has taken it since."


I might as well have accepted Lord Brackenshaw's kind offer that I should remain in it another year rent-free: for I should have kept the place aired and warmed."


"I hope you've something snug instead," said Sir Hugo.


"A little too snug," said Mr. Gascoigne, smiling at his sister-in-law.


Gwendolen had turned with a changed glance when her mother spoke of Offendene being empty.


This conversation passed during one of the long unaccountable pauses often experienced in foreign trains at some country station.

said this; it was during one of the long unaccountable pauses often experienced in foreign trains at some country station.


There was a dreamy, sunny stillness over the hedgeless fields stretching to the boundary of poplars; and to Gwendolen the talk within the carriage seemed only to make the dreamland larger with an indistinct region of coal-pits, and a purgatorial Gadsmere which she would never visit; till at her mother's words, this mingled, dozing view seemed to dissolve and give way to a more wakeful vision of Offendene and Pennicote under their cooler lights.

There was a dreamy, sunny stillness over the fields; and to Gwendolen the talk within the carriage seemed only to make the dreamland larger with an indistinct region of coal-pits, and a purgatorial Gadsmere which she would never visit; then this dozing view dissolved into a vision of Offendene.


She saw the gray shoulders of the downs, the cattle-specked fields, the shadowy plantations with rutted lanes where the barked timber lay for a wayside seat, the neatly-clipped hedges on the road from the parsonage to Offendene, the avenue where she was gradually discerned from the window, the hall-door opening, and her mother or one of the troublesome sisters coming out to meet her.

She saw the grey shoulders of the downs, the cattle-specked fields, the neatly-clipped hedges on the road to Offendene, the avenue, the hall-door opening, and her mother coming out to meet her.


All that brief experience of a quiet home which had once seemed a dullness to be fled from, now came back to her as a restful escape, a station where she found the breath of morning and the unreproaching voice of birds after following a lure through a long Satanic masquerade, which she had entered on with an intoxicated belief in its disguises, and had seen the end of in shrieking fear lest she herself had become one of the evil spirits who were dropping their human mummery and hissing around her with serpent tongues.

All that brief experience of a quiet home which had once seemed dull, now came back to her as a restful escape.


In this way Gwendolen's mind paused over Offendene and made it the scene of many thoughts; but she gave no further outward sign of interest in this conversation, any more than in Sir Hugo's opinion on the telegraphic cable or her uncle's views of the Church Rate Abolition Bill.

However, Gwendolen gave no outward sign of interest in the conversation.


What subjects will not our talk embrace in leisurely day-journeying from Genoa to London?


Even strangers, after glancing from China to Peru and opening their mental stores with a liberality threatening a mutual impression of poverty on any future meeting, are liable to become excessively confidential.


But the baronet and the rector were under a still stronger pressure toward cheerful communication: they were like acquaintances compelled to a long drive in a mourning-coach who having first remarked that the occasion is a melancholy one, naturally proceed to enliven it by the most miscellaneous discourse.


"I don't mind telling _you_," said Sir Hugo to the rector, in mentioning some private details; while the rector, without saying so, did not mind telling the baronet about his sons, and the difficulty of placing them in the world.


By the dint of discussing all persons and things within driving-reach of Diplow, Sir Hugo got himself wrought to a pitch of interest in that former home, and of conviction that it was his pleasant duty to regain and strengthen his personal influence in the neighborhood, that made him declare his intention of taking his family to the place for a month or two before the autumn was over; and Mr. Gascoigne cordially rejoiced in that prospect.

Sir Hugo declared his intention of taking his family to Diplow for a month or two in autumn; and Mr. Gascoigne cordially rejoiced in that prospect.


Altogether, the journey was continued and ended with mutual liking between the male fellow-travellers.

Altogether, the journey was continued with mutual liking between the male fellow-travellers.


Meanwhile Gwendolen sat by like one who had visited the spirit-world and was full to the lips of an unutterable experience that threw a strange unreality over all the talk she was hearing of her own and the world's business; and Mrs. Davilow was chiefly occupied in imagining what her daughter was feeling, and in wondering what was signified by her hinted doubt whether she would accept her husband's bequest.

Meanwhile Gwendolen sat by like one who had visited the spirit-world and whose experience threw a strange unreality over all worldly talk; and Mrs. Davilow was chiefly occupied in imagining what her daughter was feeling, and in wondering whether she would accept her husband's bequest.


Gwendolen in fact had before her the unsealed wall of an immediate purpose shutting off every other resolution.

Gwendolen in fact had a purpose shutting off every other resolution.


She wanted again to see and consult Deronda, that she might secure herself against any act he would disapprove.

She wanted again to consult Deronda, so that she might secure herself against any act he would disapprove.


Would her remorse have maintained its power within her, or would she have felt absolved by secrecy, if it had not been for that outer conscience which was made for her by Deronda?

Would her remorse have maintained its power within her, if it had not been for that conscience which was made for her by Deronda?


It is hard to say how much we could forgive ourselves if we were secure from judgment by another whose opinion is the breathing-medium of all our joy--who brings to us with close pressure and immediate sequence that judgment of the Invisible and Universal which self-flattery and the world's tolerance would easily melt and disperse.


In this way our brother may be in the stead of God to us, and his opinion which has pierced even to the joints and marrow, may be our virtue in the making.


That mission of Deronda to Gwendolen had begun with what she had felt to be his judgment of her at the gaming-table.

influence had begun with what she had felt to be his judgment of her at the gaming-table.


He might easily have spoiled it:--much of our lives is spent in marring our own influence and turning others' belief in us into a widely concluding unbelief which they call knowledge of the world, while it is really disappointment in you or me.


But Gwendolen had forgotten to ask him for his address in case she wanted to write, and her only way of reaching him was through Sir Hugo.

But Gwendolen did not know his address, and her only way of reaching him was through Sir Hugo.


She was not in the least blind to the construction that all witnesses might put on her giving signs of dependence on Deronda, and her seeking him more than he sought her: Grandcourt's rebukes had sufficiently enlightened her pride.

She knew the construction that might be put on her seeking out Deronda


But the force, the tenacity of her nature had thrown itself into that dependence, and she would no more let go her hold on Deronda's help, or deny herself the interview her soul needed, because of witnesses, than if she had been in prison in danger of being condemned to death.

; but she would not let go of her dependence.


When she was in Park Lane and knew that the baronet would be going down to the Abbey immediately (just to see his family for a couple of days and then return to transact needful business for Gwendolen), she said to him without any air of hesitation, while her mother was present,

When she was in Park Lane and knew that the baronet was about to go down to the Abbey, she said to him without hesitation, while her mother was present-


"Sir Hugo, I wish to see Mr. Deronda again as soon as possible.


Will you tell it me, or let him know that I want to see him?"

Will you let him know that I want to see him?"


A quick thought passed across Sir Hugo's face, but made no difference to the ease with which he said, "Upon my word, I don't know whether he's at his chambers or the Abbey at this moment.

A quick thought passed across Sir Hugo's face, but he said easily, "Upon my word, I don't know whether he's at his chambers or the Abbey at this moment.


I'll send a note now to his chambers telling him to come, and if he's at the Abbey I can give him your message and send him up at once.

But I'll send a note to his chambers, and if he's at the Abbey I can give him your message and send him up.


I am sure he will want to obey your wish," the baronet ended, with grave kindness, as if nothing could seem to him more in the appropriate course of things than that she should send such a message.

I am sure he will want to obey your wish."
The baronet spoke with grave kindness, as if nothing could seem more appropriate.


But he was convinced that Gwendolen had a passionate attachment to Deronda, the seeds of which had been laid long ago, and his former suspicion now recurred to him with more strength than ever, that her feeling was likely to lead her into imprudences--in which kind-hearted Sir Hugo was determined to screen and defend her as far as lay in his power.

But he was convinced that Gwendolen had a passionate attachment to Deronda, and thinking that this might lead her into imprudences, he was determined to screen her as far as lay in his power.


To him it was as pretty a story as need be that this fine creature and his favorite Dan should have turned out to be formed for each other, and that the unsuitable husband should have made his exit in such excellent time.

To him it was a pretty story that this fine creature and his favourite Dan should have turned out to be formed for each other, and that the unsuitable husband should have made his exit in such excellent time.


Sir Hugo liked that a charming woman should be made as happy as possible.


In truth, what most vexed his mind in this matter at present was a doubt whether the too lofty and inscrutable Dan had not got some scheme or other in his head, which would prove to be dearer to him than the lovely Mrs. Grandcourt, and put that neatly-prepared marriage with her out of the question.

In truth, what most vexed his mind was a doubt whether Dan had not got some scheme or other in his head, which would prove to be dearer to him than the lovely Mrs. Grandcourt, and put that neatly-prepared marriage with her out of the question.


It was among the usual paradoxes of feeling that Sir Hugo, who had given his fatherly cautions to Deronda against too much tenderness in his relations with the bride, should now feel rather irritated against him by the suspicion that he had not fallen in love as he ought to have done.


Of course all this thinking on Sir Hugo's part was eminently premature, only a fortnight or so after Grandcourt's death.

Of course all this thinking on Sir Hugo's part was premature, only a fortnight after Grandcourt's death.


But it is the trick of thinking to be either premature or behind-hand.


However, he sent the note to Deronda's chambers, and it found him there.


"O gentlemen, the time of life is short; To spend that shortness basely were too long, If life did ride upon a dial's point, Still ending at the arrival of an hour."


On the second day after the archery meeting, Mr. Henleigh Mallinger Grandcourt was at his breakfast-table with Mr. Lush.

On the second day after the Archery Meeting, Mr. Henleigh Mallinger Grandcourt was at his breakfast-table with Mr. Lush.


Everything around them was agreeable: the summer air through the open windows, at which the dogs could walk in from the old green turf on the lawn; the soft, purplish coloring of the park beyond, stretching toward a mass of bordering wood; the still life in the room, which seemed the stiller for its sober antiquated elegance, as if it kept a conscious, well-bred silence, unlike the restlessness of vulgar furniture.

Everything around them was agreeable: the summer air through the open windows, at which the dogs could walk in from the lawn; the park beyond; the still room, with its sober antiquated elegance, as if it kept a conscious, well-bred silence, unlike the restlessness of vulgar furniture.


Whether the gentlemen were agreeable to each other was less evident.


Mr. Grandcourt had drawn his chair aside so as to face the lawn, and with his left leg over another chair, and his right elbow on the table, was smoking a large cigar, while his companion was still eating.

Mr. Grandcourt had drawn his chair aside to face the lawn, and with his left leg over another chair, was smoking a large cigar, while his companion was eating.


The dogs--half-a-dozen of various kinds were moving lazily in and out, taking attitudes of brief attention--gave a vacillating preference first to one gentleman, then to the other; being dogs in such good circumstances that they could play at hunger, and liked to be served with delicacies which they declined to put in their mouths; all except Fetch, the beautiful liver-colored water-spaniel, which sat with its forepaws firmly planted and its expressive brown face turned upward, watching Grandcourt with unshaken constancy.

Half a dozen dogs were moving lazily in and out; except for Fetch, the water-spaniel, which sat with its forepaws firmly planted and its face turned upward, watching Grandcourt with unshaken constancy.


He held in his lap a tiny Maltese dog with a tiny silver collar and bell, and when he had a hand unused by cigar or coffee-cup, it rested on this small parcel of animal warmth.

He held in his lap a tiny Maltese dog, and his hand rested on this small parcel of animal warmth.