Here lay the vaguer source of the hidden sadness rendered noticeable to Hans by some diminution of that sweet ease, that ready joyousness of response in her speech and smile, which had come with the new sense of freedom and safety, and had made her presence like the freshly-opened daisies and clear bird-notes after the rain.

Here lay the vaguer source of the hidden sadness noted by Hans, some diminution of that ready joy which had come with her new sense of freedom and safety.


She herself regarded her uneasiness as a sort of ingratitude and dullness of sensibility toward the great things that had been given her in her new life; and whenever she threw more energy than usual into her singing, it was the energy of indignation against the shallowness of her own content.

She thought herself ungrateful, and threw all the more energy into her singing - the energy of indignation against herself.

Book 7 - THE MOTHER AND THE SON | Chapter 52


In that mood she once said, "Shall I tell you what is the difference between you and me, Ezra?

In that mood she said, "Shall I tell you the difference between you and me, Ezra?


You are a spring in the drought, and I am an acorn-cup; the waters of heaven fill me, but the least little shake leaves me empty."


He fell into this antique form of speech habitually in talking to his sister and to the Cohen children.


"Thoughts," said Mirah; "thoughts that come like the breeze and shake me--bad people, wrong things, misery--and how they might touch our life."

"Thoughts," said Mirah; "thoughts that come like the breeze and shake me."


On whose shoulder would we lay it, that we might be free?"


The one voluntary sign she made of her inward care was this distant allusion.

This was the only voluntary sign she made of her inward care.


"My spirit is too weak; mortality Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep, And each imagined pinnacle and steep Of godlike hardship tells me I must die Like a sick eagle looking at the sky."


After a few minutes the unwonted stillness had penetrated Mordecai's consciousness, and he looked up at Deronda, not in the least with bewilderment and surprise, but with a gaze full of reposing satisfaction.

After a few minutes the stillness penetrated Mordecai's consciousness, and he looked up at Deronda with a gaze full of satisfaction.


Deronda rose and placed his chair nearer, where there could be no imagined need for raising the voice.


Mordecai felt the action as a patient feels the gentleness that eases his pillow.


He began to speak in a low tone, as if he were only thinking articulately, not trying to reach an audience.

He began to speak quietly, as if he were thinking aloud.


"In the doctrine of the Cabbala, souls are born again and again in new bodies till they are perfected and purified, and a soul liberated from a worn-out body may join the fellow-soul that needs it, that they may be perfected together, and their earthly work accomplished.


Then they will depart from the mortal region, and leave place for new souls to be born out of the store in the eternal bosom.

Then they will depart from the mortal region, and leave room for new souls to be born.


It is the lingering imperfection of the souls already born into the mortal region that hinders the birth of new souls and the preparation of the Messianic time:--thus the mind has given shape to what is hidden, as the shadow of what is known, and has spoken truth, though it were only in parable.

It is the imperfection of the souls already born into the mortal region that hinders the birth of new souls and the preparation of the Messianic time:- thus the mind has given shape to what is hidden, and has spoken truth, though only in parable.


When my long-wandering soul is liberated from this weary body, it will join yours, and its work will be perfected."


Mordecai's pause seemed an appeal which Deronda's feeling would not let him leave unanswered.


He tried to make it truthful; but for Mordecai's ear it was inevitably filled with unspoken meaning.


"Everything I can in conscience do to make your life effective I will do."

answer truthfully: "Everything I can do to make your life effective I will do."


"I know it," said Mordecai, in a tone of quiet certainty which dispenses with further assurance.

"I know it," said Mordecai with quiet certainty.


You see it all--you are by my side on the mount of vision, and behold the paths of fulfillment which others deny."

"You are by my side on the mount of vision, and behold the paths of fulfilment which others deny."


He was silent a moment or two, and then went on meditatively,


"You will take up my life where it was broken.


I feel myself back in that day when my life was broken.


The bright morning sun was on the quay--it was at Trieste--the garments of men from all nations shone like jewels--the boats were pushing off--the Greek vessel that would land us at Beyrout was to start in an hour.

The bright morning sun was on the quay at Trieste - the boats were pushing off - the Greek vessel that would land us at Beirut was to start in an hour.


I was going with a merchant as his clerk and companion.


I said, I shall behold the lands and people of the East, and I shall speak with a fuller vision.


I breathed then as you do, without labor; I had the light step and the endurance of youth, I could fast, I could sleep on the hard ground.

I breathed then as you do, without labour; I had the endurance of youth.


I had wedded poverty, and I loved my bride--for poverty to me was freedom.


My heart exulted as if it had been the heart of Moses ben Maimon, strong with the strength of three score years, and knowing the work that was to fill them.


It was the first time I had been south; the soul within me felt its former sun; and standing on the quay, where the ground I stood on seemed to send forth light, and the shadows had an azure glory as of spirits become visible, I felt myself in the flood of a glorious life, wherein my own small year-counted existence seemed to melt, so that I knew it not; and a great sob arose within me as at the rush of waters that were too strong a bliss.

; and standing on the quay, where the ground seemed to send forth light, and the shadows had an azure glory as of spirits become visible, I felt myself in the flood of a glorious life, wherein my own small existence seemed to melt. A great sob arose within me as at the rush of waters that were too strong a bliss.


So I stood there awaiting my companion; and I saw him not till he said: 'Ezra, I have been to the post and there is your letter.'"

So I stood there awaiting my companion; who came and said: 'Ezra, here is your letter.'"


exclaimed Deronda, unable to contain himself.


"Ezra," repeated Mordecai, affirmatively, engrossed in memory.

"Ezra," repeated Mordecai, engrossed in memory.


"I was expecting a letter; for I wrote continually to my mother.

"I was expecting a letter from my mother.


And that sound of my name was like the touch of a wand that recalled me to the body wherefrom I had been released as it were to mingle with the ocean of human existence, free from the pressure of individual bondage.

And that sound of my name recalled me to my body.


I opened the letter; and the name came again as a cry that would have disturbed me in the bosom of heaven, and made me yearn to reach where that sorrow was--'Ezra, my son!'"

I opened the letter; and the name came again as a cry that made me yearn to reach where that sorrow was - 'Ezra, my son!'"


Mordecai paused again, his imagination arrested by the grasp of that long-passed moment.


Deronda's mind was almost breathlessly suspended on what was coming.

Deronda's mind was breathlessly suspended on what was coming.


A strange possibility had suddenly presented itself.


Mordecai's eyes were cast down in abstracted contemplation, and in a few moments he went on,


"She was a mother of whom it might have come--yea, might have come to be said, 'Her children arise up and call her blessed.'

"She was a mother whom her children would call blessed.


In her I understood the meaning of that Master who, perceiving the footsteps of his mother, rose up and said, 'The Majesty of the Eternal cometh near!'


And that letter was her cry from the depths of anguish and desolation--the cry of a mother robbed of her little ones.

And that letter was her cry from the depths of anguish and desolation - the cry of a mother robbed of her little ones.


Death had taken four babes one after the other.


Then came, late, my little sister, who was, more than all the rest, the desire of my mother's eyes; and the letter was a piercing cry to me--'Ezra, my son, I am robbed of her.

Then came, late, my little sister, who was the desire of my mother's eyes; and the letter was a piercing cry to me - 'Ezra, my son, I am robbed of her.


He has taken her away and left disgrace behind.'"


--Here Mordecai lifted his eyes suddenly, laid his hand on Deronda's arm, and said, "Mine was the lot of Israel.

Here Mordecai laid his hand on Deronda's arm, and said, "Mine was the lot of Israel.


For the sin of the father my soul must go into exile.

For the sin of the father, my soul must go into exile.


For the sin of the father the work was broken, and the day of fulfilment delayed.


She who bore me was desolate, disgraced, destitute.


On the instant I turned--her spirit and the spirit of her fathers, who had worthy Jewish hearts, moved within me, and drew me.


God, in whom dwells the universe, was within me as the strength of obedience.


I turned and traveled with hardship--to save the scant money which she would need.

travelled with hardship, to save the scant money which she would need.


I left the sunshine, and traveled into freezing cold.

I left the sunshine, and travelled into freezing cold.


In the last stage I spent a night in exposure to cold and snow.

I spent a night exposed to cold and snow.


And that was the beginning of this slow death."


Mordecai let his eyes wander again and removed his hand.

Mordecai let his eyes wander and removed his hand.


Deronda resolutely repressed the questions which urged themselves within him.

Deronda resolutely repressed his urgent questions.


While Mordecai was in this state of emotion, no other confidence must be sought than what came spontaneously: nay, he himself felt a kindred emotion which made him dread his own speech as too momentous.

While Mordecai was in this state of emotion, he could not ask: nay, he felt a kindred emotion which made him dread his own speech as too momentous.


We were destitute--every thing had been seized.


And she was ill: the clutch of anguish was too strong for her, and wrought with some lurking disease.

, and she was ill. At times she could not stand for the beating of her heart, and the images in her brain became as chambers of terror, where she beheld my sister reared in evil.


At times she could not stand for the beating of her heart, and the images in her brain became as chambers of terror, where she beheld my sister reared in evil.


In the dead of night I heard her crying for her child.

In the night I heard her crying for her child.


Then I rose, and we stretched forth our arms together and prayed.


We poured forth our souls in desire that Mirah might be delivered from evil."


Deronda repeated, wishing to assure, himself that his ears had not been deceived by a forecasting imagination.

Deronda repeated, wishing to assure himself that his ears had not been deceived.


After we had prayed for her, my mother would rest awhile.

After we had prayed for her, my mother would rest.


It lasted hardly four years, and in the minute before she died, we were praying the same prayer--I aloud, she silently.

It lasted four years, and in the minute she died, we were praying the same prayer.


"Have you never since heard of your sister?"


Never have I heard whether she was delivered according to our prayer.

Never have I heard whether she was delivered.


The poisonous will of the wicked is strong.


It poisoned my life--it is slowly stifling this breath.

It poisoned my life - it is slowly stifling this breath.


Death delivered my mother, and I felt it a blessedness that I was alone in the winters of suffering.

Death delivered my mother, and I felt it a blessing that I was alone in the winters of suffering.


But what are the winters now?--they are far off"--here Mordecai again rested his hand on Deronda's arm, and looked at him with that joy of the hectic patient which pierces us to sadness--"there is nothing to wail in the withering of my body.

But now" - here Mordecai again rested his hand on Deronda's arm, and looked at him with joy - "now there is nothing to bewail in the withering of my body.


Once I said the work of this beginning was mine, I am born to do it.


His grasp had become convulsive in its force, and Deronda, agitated as he had never been before--the certainty that this was Mirah's brother suffusing his own strange relation to Mordecai with a new solemnity and tenderness--felt his strong young heart beating faster and his lips paling.

His grasp became convulsive in its force, and Deronda, agitated as never before in his certainty that this was Mirah's brother, felt his strong young heart beating faster and his lips paling.


He feared, in Mordecai's present state of exaltation (already an alarming strain on his feeble frame), to utter a word of revelation about Mirah.

He feared, in Mordecai's state of exaltation (already an alarming strain on his feeble frame), to utter a word about Mirah.


He feared to make an answer below that high pitch of expectation which resembled a flash from a dying fire, making watchers fear to see it die the faster.


His dominant impulse was to do as he had once done before: he laid his firm, gentle hand on the hand that grasped him.

Instead, he laid his firm, gentle hand on


Mordecai's, as if it had a soul of its own--for he was not distinctly willing to do what he did--relaxed its grasp, and turned upward under Deronda's.

Mordecai's, which relaxed its grasp, and turned upward.


As the two palms met and pressed each other Mordecai recovered some sense of his surroundings, and said,

As the two palms pressed each other Mordecai recovered some sense of his surroundings, and said-


And in fact they parted at Cohen's door without having spoken to each other again--merely with another pressure of the hands.

They parted at Cohen's door without exchanging words - merely another pressure of hands.


Deronda felt a weight on him which was half joy, half anxiety.


The joy of finding in Mirah's brother a nature even more than worthy of that relation to her, had the weight of solemnity and sadness; the reunion of brother and sister was in reality the first stage of a supreme parting--like that farewell kiss which resembles greeting, that last glance of love which becomes the sharpest pang of sorrow.

The joy of finding in Mirah's brother a nature more than worthy of that relation to her, had the weight of solemnity and sadness; the reunion of brother and sister was in reality the first stage of a supreme parting.


Then there was the weight of anxiety about the revelation of the fact on both sides, and the arrangements it would be desirable to make beforehand.

Then there was the weight of anxiety about the revelation of the fact on both sides, and the arrangements he would need to make beforehand.


I suppose we should all have felt as Deronda did, without sinking into snobbishness or the notion that the primal duties of life demand a morning and an evening suit, that it was an admissible desire to free Mirah's first meeting with her brother from all jarring outward conditions.

He wished to remove any jarring outwards conditions for their first meeting.


His own sense of deliverance from the dreaded relationship of the other Cohens, notwithstanding their good nature, made him resolve if possible to keep them in the background for Mirah, until her acquaintance with them would be an unmarred rendering of gratitude for any kindness they had shown to her brother.

Notwithstanding the Cohens' good nature, he resolved to keep them in the background until Mirah might want to thank them for the kindness they had shown her brother.


On all accounts he wished to give Mordecai surroundings not only more suited to his frail bodily condition, but less of a hindrance to easy intercourse, even apart from the decisive prospect of Mirah's taking up her abode with her brother, and tending him through the precious remnant of his life.

Deronda wished also to give Mordecai surroundings more suited to his frail bodily condition, and to the prospect of Mirah's making her home with her brother, and tending him through the precious remnant of his life.


In the heroic drama, great recognitions are not encumbered with these details; and certainly Deronda had as reverential an interest in Mordecai and Mirah as he could have had in the offspring of Agamemnon; but he was caring for destinies still moving in the dim streets of our earthly life, not yet lifted among the constellations, and his task presented itself to him as difficult and delicate, especially in persuading Mordecai to change his abode and habits.

He thought this task would be difficult and delicate, especially in persuading Mordecai to change his abode.


Concerning Mirah's feeling and resolve he had no doubt: there would be a complete union of sentiment toward the departed mother, and Mirah would understand her brother's greatness.

Concerning Mirah's feeling, he had no doubt: Mirah would understand her brother's greatness.


Yes, greatness: that was the word which Deronda now deliberately chose to signify the impression that Mordecai had made on him.

Yes, greatness: that was the word which Deronda now deliberately chose to use.


He said to himself, perhaps rather defiantly toward the more negative spirit within him, that this man, however erratic some of his interpretations might be--this consumptive Jewish workman in threadbare clothing, lodged by charity, delivering himself to hearers who took his thoughts without attaching more consequences to them than the Flemings to the ethereal chimes ringing above their market-places--had the chief elements of greatness; a mind consciously, energetically moving with the larger march of human destinies, but not the less full of conscience and tender heart for the footsteps that tread near and need a leaning-place; capable of conceiving and choosing a life's task with far-off issues, yet capable of the unapplauded heroism which turns off the road of achievement at the call of the nearer duty whose effect lies within the beatings of the hearts that are close to us, as the hunger of the unfledged bird to the breast of its parent.

He said to himself, perhaps rather defiantly, that this consumptive Jewish workman in threadbare clothing, lodged by charity, had the elements of greatness; a mind energetically moving with the larger march of human destinies, but not the less full of tenderness for those nearby; capable of conceiving and choosing a life's task, yet capable too of the unapplauded heroism which turns off the road of achievement at the call of nearer duty.


Deronda to-night was stirred with the feeling that the brief remnant of this fervid life had become his charge.

Deronda felt that the brief remnant of this fervid life had become his charge.


He had been peculiarly wrought on by what he had seen at the club of the friendly indifference which Mordecai must have gone on encountering.

He had been particularly affected by the friendly indifference which Mordecai had met with at the club.


His own experience of the small room that ardor can make for itself in ordinary minds had had the effect of increasing his reserve; and while tolerance was the easiest attitude to him, there was another bent in him also capable of becoming a weakness--the dislike to appear exceptional or to risk an ineffective insistence on his own opinion.

He had experience of the small space that ardour finds in ordinary minds; and this had resulted in a reserve - a dislike of appearing unusual or of risking an ineffective insistence on his own opinion.


But such caution appeared contemptible to him just now, when he, for the first time, saw in a complete picture and felt as a reality the lives that burn themselves out in solitary enthusiasm: martyrs of obscure circumstance, exiled in the rarity of their own minds, whose deliverances in other ears are no more than a long passionate soliloquy--unless perhaps at last, when they are nearing the invisible shores, signs of recognition and fulfilment may penetrate the cloud of loneliness; or perhaps it may be with them as with the dying Copernicus made to touch the first printed copy of his book when the sense of touch was gone, seeing it only as a dim object through the deepening dusk.

But now, for the first time, he felt as a reality the lives that burn themselves out in solitary enthusiasm: martyrs of obscure circumstance, exiled in the rarity of their own minds, whose speech is no more than a long passionate soliloquy.


Deronda had been brought near to one of those spiritual exiles, and it was in his nature to feel the relation as a strong chain, nay, to feel his imagination moving without repugnance in the direction of Mordecai's desires.

Deronda's imagination was moving in the direction of Mordecai's desires.


With all his latent objection to schemes only definite in their generality and nebulous in detail--in the poise of his sentiments he felt at one with this man who had made a visionary selection of him: the lines of what may be called their emotional theory touched.

For all his latent objection to vague schemes, he felt at one with this man who had chosen him.


He had not the Jewish consciousness, but he had a yearning, grown the stronger for the denial which had been his grievance, after the obligation of avowed filial and social ties.

He had not the Jewish consciousness, but he had a yearning for the obligation of filial and social ties.


His feeling was ready for difficult obedience.


In this way it came that he set about his new task ungrudgingly; and again he thought of Mrs. Meyrick as his chief helper.

So he set about his new task ungrudgingly; and again thought of Mrs. Meyrick as his chief helper.


To her first he must make known the discovery of Mirah's brother, and with her he must consult on all preliminaries of bringing the mutually lost together.

To her first he must make known the discovery of Mirah's brother, and with her he must consult on how to bring the lost together.


Happily the best quarter for a consumptive patient did not lie too far off the small house at Chelsea, and the first office Deronda had to perform for this Hebrew prophet who claimed him as a spiritual inheritor, was to get him a healthy lodging.

Then he must find a healthy lodging for Mordecai, and


Such is the irony of earthly mixtures, that the heroes have not always had carpets and teacups of their own; and, seen through the open window by the mackerel-vender, may have been invited with some hopefulness to pay three hundred per cent, in the form of fourpence.


However, Deronda's mind was busy with a prospective arrangement for giving a furnished lodging some faint likeness to a refined home by dismantling his own chambers of his best old books in vellum, his easiest chair, and the bas-reliefs of Milton and Dante.

give it some faint likeness to a refined home, by dismantling his own chambers of his best old books, his easiest chair, and the bas-reliefs of Milton and Dante.


What furniture can give such finish to a room as a tender woman's face?--and is there any harmony of tints that has such stirrings of delight as the sweet modulation of her voice?

What furniture can give such finish to a room as a tender woman's face? - and is there any harmony of tints that can delight as much as her sweet voice?


Here is one good, at least, thought Deronda, that comes to Mordecai from his having fixed his imagination on me.

Here is one good, at least, thought Deronda, that comes from Mordecai's having fixed his imagination on me.


He has recovered a perfect sister, whose affection is waiting for him.


It is a common sentence that Knowledge is power; but who hath duly considered or set forth the power of Ignorance?


Knowledge slowly builds up what Ignorance in an hour pulls down.


Knowledge, through patient and frugal centuries, enlarges discovery and makes record of it; Ignorance, wanting its day's dinner, lights a fire with the record, and gives a flavor to its one roast with the burned souls of many generations.


Knowledge, instructing the sense, refining and multiplying needs, transforms itself into skill and makes life various with a new six days' work; comes Ignorance drunk on the seventh, with a firkin of oil and a match and an easy "Let there not be," and the many-colored creation is shriveled up in blackness.


Of a truth, Knowledge is power, but it is a power reined by scruple, having a conscience of what must be and what may be; whereas Ignorance is a blind giant who, let him but wax unbound, would make it a sport to seize the pillars that hold up the long-wrought fabric of human good, and turn all the places of joy dark as a buried Babylon.


And looking at life parcel-wise, in the growth of a single lot, who having a practiced vision may not see that ignorance of the true bond between events, and false conceit of means whereby sequences may be compelled--like that falsity of eyesight which overlooks the gradations of distance, seeing that which is afar off as if it were within a step or a grasp--precipitates the mistaken soul on destruction?


It was half-past ten in the morning when Gwendolen Harleth, after her gloomy journey from Leubronn, arrived at the station from which she must drive to Offendene.

It was half-past ten in the morning when Gwendolen Harleth, after her gloomy journey from Leubronn, arrived at the station near Offendene.


No carriage or friend was awaiting her, for in the telegram she had sent from Dover she had mentioned a later train, and in her impatience of lingering at a London station she had set off without picturing what it would be to arrive unannounced at half an hour's drive from home--at one of those stations which have been fixed on not as near anywhere, but as equidistant from everywhere.

No one was awaiting her, for in her impatience she had set off on an earlier train than the one her telegraph had mentioned to her family.


Deposited as a _femme sole_ with her large trunks, and having to wait while a vehicle was being got from the large-sized lantern called the Railway Inn, Gwendolen felt that the dirty paint in the waiting-room, the dusty decanter of flat water, and the texts in large letters calling on her to repent and be converted, were part of the dreary prospect opened by her family troubles; and she hurried away to the outer door looking toward the lane and fields.

Deposited alone on the platform with her trunks, and waiting while a vehicle was being got from the Railway Inn, Gwendolen felt that the dirty paint in the waiting-room matched the dreary prospect opened by her family troubles.


But here the very gleams of sunshine seemed melancholy, for the autumnal leaves and grass were shivering, and the wind was turning up the feathers of a cock and two croaking hens which had doubtless parted with their grown-up offspring and did not know what to do with themselves.


The railway official also seemed without resources, and his innocent demeanor in observing Gwendolen and her trunks was rendered intolerable by the cast in his eye; especially since, being a new man, he did not know her, and must conclude that she was not very high in the world.


The vehicle--a dirty old barouche--was within sight, and was being slowly prepared by an elderly laborer.


Contemptible details these, to make part of a history; yet the turn of most lives is hardly to be accounted for without them.


They are continually entering with cumulative force into a mood until it gets the mass and momentum of a theory or a motive.


Even philosophy is not quite free from such determining influences; and to be dropped solitary at an ugly, irrelevant-looking spot, with a sense of no income on the mind, might well prompt a man to discouraging speculation on the origin of things and the reason of a world where a subtle thinker found himself so badly off.


How much more might such trifles tell on a young lady equipped for society with a fastidious taste, an Indian shawl over her arm, some twenty cubic feet of trunks by her side, and a mortal dislike to the new consciousness of poverty which was stimulating her imagination of disagreeables?

: such trifles must tell on a fastidious lady with an Indian shawl over her arm, some twenty cubic feet of trunks, and a mortal dislike of her new consciousness of poverty.


At any rate they told heavily on poor Gwendolen, and helped to quell her resistant spirit.


What was the good of living in the midst of hardships, ugliness, and humiliation?


This was the beginning of being at home again, and it was a sample of what she had to expect.

was the beginning of being at home again, and a sample of what she must expect.


Here was the theme on which her discontent rung its sad changes during her slow drive in the uneasy barouche, with one great trunk squeezing the meek driver, and the other fastened with a rope on the seat in front of her.

On this theme her discontent rung its sad changes during her slow drive in the uneasy barouche.


Her ruling vision all the way from Leubronn had been that the family would go abroad again; for of course there must be some little income left--her mamma did not mean that they would have literally nothing.

She imagined that the family would go abroad again; for of course there must be some little income left - her mamma did not mean that they would have literally nothing.


To go to a dull place abroad and live poorly, was the dismal future that threatened her: she had seen plenty of poor English people abroad and imagined herself plunged in the despised dullness of their ill-plenished lives, with Alice, Bertha, Fanny and Isabel all growing up in tediousness around her, while she advanced toward thirty and her mamma got more and more melancholy.

To go to a dull place abroad and live poorly, was the dismal future that threatened her: she imagined herself plunged into dullness with her tedious sisters.


But she did not mean to submit, and let misfortune do what it would with her: she had not yet quite believed in the misfortune; but weariness and disgust with this wretched arrival had begun to affect her like an uncomfortable waking, worse than the uneasy dreams which had gone before.

But she did not mean to submit to her misfortune. She had not yet quite believed in it, but now it began to affect her like an uncomfortable waking.


The self-delight with which she had kissed her image in the glass had faded before the sense of futility in being anything whatever--charming, clever, resolute--what was the good of it all?

The self-delight with which she had kissed her image in the glass had faded before the sense of futility in being anything - charming, clever, resolute - what was the good of it all?


Events might turn out anyhow, and men were hateful.


But in these last hours, a certain change had come over their meaning.


It is one thing to hate stolen goods, and another thing to hate them the more because their being stolen hinders us from making use of them.


Gwendolen had begun to be angry with Grandcourt for being what had hindered her from marrying him, angry with him as the cause of her present dreary lot.

Gwendolen had begun to be angry with Grandcourt for being what had hindered her from marrying him, and causing her present dreary lot.


But the slow drive was nearly at an end, and the lumbering vehicle coming up the avenue was within sight of the windows.


A figure appearing under the portico brought a rush of new and less selfish feeling in Gwendolen, and when springing from the carriage she saw the dear beautiful face with fresh lines of sadness in it, she threw her arms round her mother's neck, and for the moment felt all sorrows only in relation to her mother's feeling about them.

A figure appearing under the portico brought a rush of new, less selfish feeling, and when she saw the dear beautiful face with fresh lines of sadness, she threw her arms round her mother's neck, and for the moment felt only her mother's sorrow.


Behind, of course, were the sad faces of the four superfluous girls, each, poor thing--like those other many thousand sisters of us all--having her peculiar world which was of no importance to any one else, but all of them feeling Gwendolen's presence to be somehow a relenting of misfortune: where Gwendolen was, something interesting would happen; even her hurried submission to their kisses, and "Now go away, girls," carried the sort of comfort which all weakness finds in decision and authoritativeness.

Behind were the sad faces of the four superfluous girls, each having her own world which was of no importance to anyone else, but all of them feeling Gwendolen's presence to be somehow a relenting of misfortune: where Gwendolen was, something interesting would happen. Even her hurried submission to their kisses, and "Now go away, girls," carried the comfort which weakness finds in decision and authoritativeness.


Good Miss Merry, whose air of meek depression, hitherto held unaccountable in a governess affectionately attached to the family, was now at the general level of circumstances, did not expect any greeting, but busied herself with the trunks and the coachman's pay; while Mrs. Davilow and Gwendolen hastened up-stairs and shut themselves in the black and yellow bedroom.

Miss Merry busied herself with the trunks, while Mrs. Davilow and Gwendolen hastened upstairs and shut themselves in the bedroom.


"Never mind, mamma dear," said Gwendolen, tenderly pressing her handkerchief against the tears that were rolling down Mrs. Davilow's cheeks.

"Never mind, mamma dear," said Gwendolen, tenderly pressing her handkerchief against Mrs. Davilow's tearful cheeks.


Gwendolen felt every word of that speech.


A rush of compassionate tenderness stirred all her capability of generous resolution; and the self-confident projects which had vaguely glanced before her during her journey sprang instantaneously into new definiteness.

A rush of tenderness stirred her into generous resolution; and the self-confident projects which had vaguely occurred to her during her journey acquired new definiteness.


Suddenly she seemed to perceive how she could be "something."

She seemed to perceive how she could be "something."


It was one of her best moments, and the fond mother, forgetting everything below that tide mark, looked at her with a sort of adoration.

Her fond mother looked at her with adoration,


But later in the day there was an ebb; the old slippery rocks, the old weedy places reappeared.

But later in the day there was an ebb; the old slippery rocks reappeared


Naturally, there was a shrinking of courage as misfortune ceased to be a mere announcement, and began to disclose itself as a grievous tyrannical inmate.


At first--that ugly drive at an end--it was still Offendene that Gwendolen had come home to, and all surroundings of immediate consequence to her were still there to secure her personal ease; the roomy stillness of the large solid house while she rested; all the luxuries of her toilet cared for without trouble to her; and a little tray with her favorite food brought to her in private.

At first, her surroundings still ensured her personal ease: the roomy stillness of the house while she rested; her little luxuries supplied without trouble to her; and a tray of her favourite food brought to her in private.


For she had said, "Keep them all away from us to-day, mamma.

For she had said, "Keep them all away from us today, mamma.


When Gwendolen came down into the drawing-room, fresh as a newly-dipped swan, and sat leaning against the cushions of the settee beside her mamma, their misfortune had not yet turned its face and breath upon her.

When Gwendolen came down into the drawing-room, fresh as a newly-dipped swan, she sat on the settee beside her mamma,


She felt prepared to hear everything, and began in a tone of deliberate intention,


"What have you thought of doing, exactly, mamma?"


"Oh, my dear, the next thing to be done is to move away from this house.


Mr. Haynes most fortunately is as glad to have it now as he would have been when we took it.

Mr. Haynes most fortunately is glad to rent it.


Lord Brackenshaw's agent is to arrange everything with him to the best advantage for us: Bazley, you know; not at all an ill-natured man."

Lord Brackenshaw's agent is to arrange everything."


"I cannot help thinking that Lord Brackenshaw would let you stay here rent-free, mamma," said Gwendolen, whose talents had not been applied to business so much as to discernment of the admiration excited by her charms.

"I cannot help thinking that Lord Brackenshaw would let you stay here rent-free, mamma," said Gwendolen, who had paid less attention to business than to the admiration excited by her charms.


"My dear child, Lord Brackenshaw is in Scotland, and knows nothing about us.


Neither your uncle nor I would choose to apply to him.


Besides, what could we do in this house without servants, and without money to warm it?


We have nothing to carry but our clothes, you know?"


"I suppose you mean to go abroad, then?"


After all, this is what she had familiarized her mind with.


You never did learn anything about income and expenses," said Mrs. Davilow, trying to smile, and putting her hand on Gwendolen's as she added, mournfully, "that makes it so much harder for you, my pet."

You never did learn anything about income and expenses," said Mrs. Davilow, trying to smile.


said Gwendolen, with a trace of sharpness in her tone.


She felt a new current of fear passing through her.


A little furniture is to be got in from the rectory--all that can be spared."

A little furniture is to be got from the rectory - all that can be spared."


She dreaded the reality for herself less than the shock she must give to Gwendolen, who looked at her with tense expectancy, but was silent.

, dreading the shock she must give to Gwendolen.


"It is Sawyer's Cottage we are to go to."


At first, Gwendolen remained silent, paling with anger--justifiable anger, in her opinion.

Gwendolen was silent, paling with anger.


Something else than that ought to have been thought of.


"My sweet child, what else could have been thought of?


Your uncle, I am sure, is as kind as he can be: but he is suffering himself; he has his family to bring up.

your uncle is as kind as he can be: but he is suffering with losses himself; he has his family to bring up.


We shall have absolutely nothing except what he and my sister give us.


They have been as wise and active as possible, and we must try to earn something.


I and the girls are going to work a table-cloth border for the Ladies' Charity at Winchester, and a communion cloth that the parishioners are to present to Pennicote Church."

I and the girls are going to work a table-cloth border for the Ladies' Charity at Winchester."


Mrs. Davilow went into these details timidly: but how else was she to bring the fact of their position home to this poor child who, alas!


must submit at present, whatever might be in the background for her?


and she herself had a superstition that there must be something better in the background.


"But surely somewhere else than Sawyer's Cottage might have been found," Gwendolen persisted--taken hold of (as if in a nightmare) by the image of this house where an exciseman had lived.

"But surely somewhere else than Sawyer's Cottage might have been found," Gwendolen persisted.


You know houses are scarce, and we may be thankful to get anything so private.


There are two little parlors and four bedrooms.

There are two little parlours and four bedrooms.


The ebb of sympathetic care for her mamma had gone so low just now, that Gwendolen took no notice of these deprecatory words.

The ebb of sympathy for her mamma had gone so low just now, that Gwendolen took no notice of these words.


"I cannot conceive that all your property is gone at once, mamma.


It is not a week since you wrote to me."


"The first news came much earlier, dear.


But I would not spoil your pleasure till it was quite necessary."


said Gwendolen, coloring with fresh anger.

said Gwendolen, colouring with fresh anger.


"If I had known, I could have brought home the money I had won: and for want of knowing, I stayed and lost it.

"If I had known, I could have brought home the money I had won, instead of staying to lose it.


I had nearly two hundred pounds, and it would have done for us to live on a little while, till I could carry out some plan."

I had nearly two hundred pounds, and we could have lived on it a little while, till I could carry out some plan.


She paused an instant and then added more impetuously, "Everything has gone against me.


People have come near me only to blight me."


Among the "people" she was including Deronda.

Among "people" she was including Deronda.


If he had not interfered in her life she would have gone to the gaming-table again with a few napoleons, and might have won back her losses.

If he had not interfered in her life she would have gone to the gaming-table again, and might have won back her losses.


"We must resign ourselves to the will of Providence, my child," said poor Mrs. Davilow, startled by this revelation of the gambling, but not daring to say more.

"We must resign ourselves to the will of Providence, my child," said poor Mrs. Davilow, startled by this revelation of gambling, but not daring to say more.


She felt sure that "people" meant Grandcourt, about whom her lips were sealed.


What is the good of calling the people's wickedness Providence?

"I don't call other people's wickedness Providence


You said in your letter it was Mr. Lassman's fault we had lost our money.


There were great speculations: he meant to gain.


It was all about mines and things of that sort.


"I don't call that Providence: it was his improvidence with our money, and he ought to be punished.


Can't we go to law and recover our fortune?


My uncle ought to take measures, and not sit down by such wrongs.


"My dear child, law can never bring back money lost in that way.

"My dear child, law can never bring back money lost in speculation in that way.


Your uncle says it is milk spilled upon the ground.


Besides, one must have a fortune to get any law: there is no law for people who are ruined.

Besides, one must have a fortune to get any law.


And our money has only gone along with other people's.


We are not the only sufferers: others have to resign themselves besides us."

And we are not the only sufferers: others have to resign themselves besides us."


"But I don't resign myself to live at Sawyer's Cottage and see you working for sixpences and shillings because of that.

"But I don't resign myself to live at Sawyer's Cottage and see you working for sixpences.


I shall do what is more befitting our rank and education."


"I am sure your uncle and all of us will approve of that, dear, and admire you the more for it," said Mrs. Davilow, glad of an unexpected opening for speaking on a difficult subject.

"I am sure your uncle will approve of that, dear," said Mrs. Davilow, glad of an unexpected opening for speaking on a difficult subject.


"I didn't mean that you should resign yourself to worse when anything better offered itself.


Both your uncle and aunt have felt that your abilities and education were a fortune for you, and they have already heard of something within your reach."

"Your uncle and aunt have already heard of something that, with your education, is within your reach."


some of Gwendolen's anger gave way to interest, and she was not without romantic conjectures.

Gwendolen's anger gave way to interest and romantic conjectures.


"There are two situations that offer themselves.


One is in a bishop's family, where there are three daughters, and the other is in quite a high class of school; and in both, your French, and music, and dancing--and then your manners and habits as a lady, are exactly what is wanted.

One is in a bishop's family, where there are three daughters, and the other is in quite a high class of school; and in both, your French, and music, and dancing - and your manners as a lady, are exactly what is wanted.


Each is a hundred a year--and--just for the present,"--Mrs. Davilow had become frightened and hesitating,--"to save you from the petty, common way of living that we must go to--you would perhaps accept one of the two."

Each is a hundred a year - and - just for the present," Mrs. Davilow had become frightened and hesitating- "perhaps you would accept one of the two."


be like Miss Graves at Madame Meunier's?


"I think, myself, that Dr. Monpert's would be more suitable.


There could be no hardship in a bishop's family."


There are hardships everywhere for a governess.


And I don't see that it would be pleasanter to be looked down on in a bishop's family than in any other.

I don't see that it would be pleasanter to be looked down on in a bishop's family than anywhere else.


Besides, you know very well I hate teaching.


Fancy me shut up with three awkward girls something like Alice!

Fancy me shut up with three awkward girls like Alice!


I would rather emigrate than be a governess."


What it precisely was to emigrate, Gwendolen was not called on to explain.


Mrs. Davilow was mute, seeing no outlet, and thinking with dread of the collision that might happen when Gwendolen had to meet her uncle and aunt.

Mrs. Davilow was mute, thinking with dread of the collision that might happen when Gwendolen met her aunt and uncle.


There was an air of reticence in Gwendolen's haughty, resistant speeches which implied that she had a definite plan in reserve; and her practical ignorance continually exhibited, could not nullify the mother's belief in the effectiveness of that forcible will and daring which had held mastery over herself.

Her daughter's haughty, resistant speeches implied that she had a plan in reserve, and Mrs. Davilow could not help believing in the force of her will.


"I have some ornaments, mamma, and I could sell them," said Gwendolen.

"I could sell some ornaments, mamma," said Gwendolen.


"They would make a sum: I want a little sum--just to go on with.

"I want a little sum - just to go on with.


I dare say Marshall, at Wanchester, would take them: I know he showed me some bracelets once that he said he had bought from a lady.


"She would do anything she could, poor, dear soul.


I have not told you yet--she wanted me to take all her savings--her three hundred pounds.

She wanted me to take all her savings - her three hundred pounds.


I told her to set up a little school with it."


It will be hard for her to go into a new family now she has been so long with us."


"Oh, recommend her for the bishop's daughters," said Gwendolen, with a sudden gleam of laughter in her face.

"Oh, recommend her for the bishop's daughters," said Gwendolen, with a sudden laugh.


"I am sure she will do better than I should."


"Do take care not to say such things to your uncle," said Mrs. Davilow.

"Do not say such things to your uncle," said Mrs. Davilow.


"He will be hurt at your despising what he has exerted himself about.

"He will be hurt at your despising the post he has found.


But I dare say you have something else in your mind that he might not disapprove, if you consulted him."


"There is some one else I want to consult first.


Are the Arrowpoints at Quetcham still, and is Herr Klesmer there?"


But I daresay you know nothing about it, poor, dear mamma.


Can Jeffries go on horseback with a note?"


"Oh, my dear, Jeffries is not here, and the dealer has taken the horses.


But some one could go for us from Leek's farm.


The Arrowpoints are at Quetcham, I know.


Miss Arrowpoint left her card the other day: I could not see her.


"I will write a note," said Gwendolen, rising.


said Mrs. Davilow, relieved in the midst of her wonderment by signs of alacrity and better humor.

said Mrs. Davilow, relieved by signs of her better humour.


"Don't mind what, there's a dear, good mamma," said Gwendolen, reseating herself a moment to give atoning caresses.


Never mind what until it is all settled.


The dear face!--it is ten years older in these three weeks.


don't cry"--Gwendolen, holding her mamma's head with both hands, kissed the trembling eyelids.

don't cry." Gwendolen kissed the trembling eyelids.


"But mind you don't contradict me or put hindrances in my way.


I cannot be dictated to by my uncle or any one else.


And I think"--here her tone took an edge of scorn--"I think I can do better for you than let you live in Sawyer's Cottage."

And I think" - her tone took an edge of scorn - "I think I can do better for you than Sawyer's Cottage."


In uttering this last sentence Gwendolen again rose, and went to a desk where she wrote the following note to Klesmer:,

With this, Gwendolen went to a desk where she wrote this note to Klesmer:


Miss Harleth presents her compliments to Herr Klesmer, and ventures to request of him the very great favor that he will call upon her, if possible, to-morrow.

'Miss Harleth presents her compliments to Herr Klesmer, and ventures to request that he will call upon her tomorrow.


Her reason for presuming so far on his kindness is of a very serious nature.


Unfortunate family circumstances have obliged her to take a course in which she can only turn for advice to the great knowledge and judgment of Herr Klesmer.

Unfortunate family circumstances have obliged her to take a course in which she can only turn for advice to the great knowledge of Herr Klesmer.'


"Pray get this sent to Quetcham at once, mamma," said Gwendolen, as she addressed the letter.

"Pray get this sent to Quetcham at once, mamma," said Gwendolen.


"The man must be told to wait for an answer.


For the moment, the absorbing purpose was to get the letter dispatched; but when she had been assured on this point, another anxiety arose and kept her in a state of uneasy excitement.

She was in a state of uneasy excitement.


If Klesmer happened not to be at Quetcham, what could she do next?

If Klesmer was not at Quetcham, what could she do next?


Gwendolen's belief in her star, so to speak, had had some bruises.

Gwendolen's belief in her star had had some bruises.


A splendid marriage which presented itself within reach had shown a hideous flaw.

A prospective splendid marriage had shown a hideous flaw.


The chances of roulette had not adjusted themselves to her claims; and a man of whom she knew nothing had thrust himself between her and her intentions.

The chances of roulette had not adjusted themselves to her claims; and a strange man had thrust himself between her and her intentions.


The conduct of those uninteresting people who managed the business of the world had been culpable just in the points most injurious to her in particular.


Gwendolen Harleth, with all her beauty and conscious force, felt the close threats of humiliation: for the first time the conditions of this world seemed to her like a hurrying roaring crowd in which she had got astray, no more cared for and protected than a myriad of other girls, in spite of its being a peculiar hardship to her.

Gwendolen Harleth, with all her beauty and conscious force, felt the threats of humiliation.


If Klesmer were not at Quetcham--that would be all of a piece with the rest: the unwelcome negative urged itself as a probability, and set her brain working at desperate alternatives which might deliver her from Sawyer's Cottage or the ultimate necessity of "taking a situation," a phrase that summed up for her the disagreeables most wounding to her pride, most irksome to her tastes; at least so far as her experience enabled her to imagine disagreeables.

If Klesmer were not at Quetcham, that would be all of a piece with the rest.


Still Klesmer might be there, and Gwendolen thought of the result in that case with a hopefulness which even cast a satisfactory light over her peculiar troubles, as what might well enter into the biography of celebrities and remarkable persons.

Still Klesmer might be there, and Gwendolen thought of the result in that case with hope, as if her present troubles were only such as might enter the biography of celebrities and remarkable people.


And if she had heard her immediate acquaintances cross-examined as to whether they thought her remarkable, the first who said "No" would have surprised her.

And if she had heard her acquaintances being asked whether they thought her remarkable, a "No" would have surprised her.


"I question things but do not find One that will answer to my mind: And all the world appears unkind."


Gwendolen was glad that she had got through her interview with Klesmer before meeting her uncle and aunt.


She had made up her mind now that there were only disagreeables before her, and she felt able to maintain a dogged calm in the face of any humiliation that might be proposed.

She had decided that there were only disagreeables before her, and she felt able to maintain a dogged calm in the face of any humiliation that might be proposed.


The meeting did not happen until the Monday, when Gwendolen went to the rectory with her mamma.


They had called at Sawyer's Cottage by the way, and had seen every cranny of the narrow rooms in a mid-day light, unsoftened by blinds and curtains; for the furnishing to be done by gleanings from the rectory had not yet begun.

They called at Sawyer's Cottage on the way, and saw the narrow rooms unsoftened by blinds and curtains; for the furnishing to be done by gleanings from the rectory had not yet begun.


She had not opened her lips while they were looking round at the bare walls and floors, and the little garden with the cabbage-stalks, and the yew arbor all dust and cobwebs within.

She had been silent as they looked round at the bare rooms, the little garden with the cabbage-stalks, and the dusty yew arbour.


"You and the four girls all in that closet of a room, with the green and yellow paper pressing on your eyes?

"You and the four girls in that closet of a room?


"It will be some comfort that you have not to bear it too, dear."


"If it were not that I must get some money, I would rather be there than go to be a governess."

"I would rather be there than be a governess."


"Don't set yourself against it beforehand, Gwendolen.


If you go to the palace you will have every luxury about you.

At the bishop's palace you will have every luxury about you


And you know how much you have always cared for that.


You will not find it so hard as going up and down those steep narrow stairs, and hearing the crockery rattle through the house, and the dear girls talking."

You will not find it so hard as going up and down those narrow stairs, with the noise carrying through the house."


"It is like a bad dream," said Gwendolen, impetuously.


"I cannot believe that my uncle will let you go to such a place.

"I cannot believe that my uncle will let you go there.


He ought to have taken some other steps."


It seems to me a very extraordinary world if people in our position must sink in this way all at once," said Gwendolen, the other worlds with which she was conversant being constructed with a sense of fitness that arranged her own future agreeably.

It seems to me a very extraordinary world if people in our position must sink in this way all at once," said Gwendolen.


It was her temper that framed her sentences under this entirely new pressure of evils: she could have spoken more suitably on the vicissitudes in other people's lives, though it was never her aspiration to express herself virtuously so much as cleverly--a point to be remembered in extenuation of her words, which were usually worse than she was.


And, notwithstanding the keen sense of her own bruises, she was capable of some compunction when her uncle and aunt received her with a more affectionate kindness than they had ever shown before.

But despite the keen sense of her own bruises, she felt some compunction when her uncle and aunt received her with affection and kindness.


She could not but be struck by the dignified cheerfulness with which they talked of the necessary economies in their way of living, and in the education of the boys.

She was struck by the dignified cheerfulness with which they talked of the economies they must make.


Mr. Gascoigne's worth of character, a little obscured by worldly opportunities--as the poetic beauty of women is obscured by the demands of fashionable dressing--showed itself to great advantage under this sudden reduction of fortune.

Mr. Gascoigne's worth of character showed itself to great advantage under this sudden reduction of fortune.


Prompt and methodical, he had set himself not only to put down his carriage, but to reconsider his worn suits of clothes, to leave off meat for breakfast, to do without periodicals, to get Edwy from school and arrange hours of study for all the boys under himself, and to order the whole establishment on the sparest footing possible.

Prompt and methodical, he had decided not only to put down his carriage, but to reconsider his worn suits of clothes, to leave off meat for breakfast, to do without periodicals, to teach his boys himself, and to order his establishment on the sparest footing possible.


For all healthy people economy has its pleasures; and the rector's spirit had spread through the household.

The rector's spirit had spread through the household.


Mrs. Gascoigne and Anna, who always made papa their model, really did not miss anything they cared about for themselves, and in all sincerity felt that the saddest part of the family losses was the change for Mrs. Davilow and her children.

Mrs. Gascoigne and Anna did not miss anything they cared about, and sincerely felt that the saddest part of the family losses was the change for Mrs. Davilow and her children.


Anna for the first time could merge her resentment on behalf of Rex in her sympathy with Gwendolen; and Mrs. Gascoigne was disposed to hope that trouble would have a salutary effect on her niece, without thinking it her duty to add any bitters by way of increasing the salutariness.

Anna submerged her resentment on behalf of Rex in her sympathy with Gwendolen; and Mrs. Gascoigne hoped privately that trouble would have a salutary effect on her niece.


They had both been busy devising how to get blinds and curtains for the cottage out of the household stores; but with delicate feeling they left these matters in the back-ground, and talked at first of Gwendolen's journey, and the comfort it was to her mamma to have her at home again.

They had both been busy devising how to get curtains for the cottage out of the household stores; but with delicate feeling they left these matters in the background, and talked at first of Gwendolen's journey, and the comfort it was to her mamma to have her at home again.


In fact there was nothing for Gwendolen to take as a justification for extending her discontent with events to the persons immediately around her, and she felt shaken into a more alert attention, as if by a call to drill that everybody else was obeying, when her uncle began in a voice of firm kindness to talk to her of the efforts he had been making to get her a situation which would offer her as many advantages as possible.

Her uncle then began to tell her of his efforts to get her a situation with as many advantages as possible.


Mr. Gascoigne had not forgotten Grandcourt, but the possibility of further advances from that quarter was something too vague for a man of his good sense to be determined by it: uncertainties of that kind must not now slacken his action in doing the best he could for his niece under actual conditions.


"I felt that there was no time to be lost, Gwendolen; for a position in a good family where you will have some consideration is not to be had at a moment's notice.

"I felt that there was no time to be lost, Gwendolen; for a position in a good family is not to be had at a moment's notice.


And however long we waited we could hardly find one where you would be better off than at Bishop Mompert's.

And you would hardly find a better one than at Bishop Mompert's.


I am known to both him and Mrs. Mompert, and that of course is an advantage to you.


Our correspondence has gone on favorably; but I cannot be surprised that Mrs. Mompert wishes to see you before making an absolute engagement.

; she wishes to see you before making an absolute engagement.


She thinks of arranging for you to meet her at Wanchester when she is on her way to town.

She thinks of arranging for you to meet her at Wanchester."


I dare say you will feel the interview rather trying for you, my dear; but you will have a little time to prepare your mind."


"Do you know _why_ she wants to see me, uncle?"

"Do you know why she wants to see me, uncle?"


said Gwendolen, whose mind had quickly gone over various reasons that an imaginary Mrs. Mompert with three daughters might be supposed to entertain, reasons all of a disagreeable kind to the person presenting herself for inspection.

said Gwendolen, whose mind had quickly gone over various disagreeable reasons.


She would like to have a more precise idea of you than my report can give.


And a mother is naturally scrupulous about a companion for her daughters.

A mother is naturally scrupulous about a companion for her daughters.


But she herself exercises a close supervision over her daughters' education, and that makes her less anxious as to age.


She is a woman of taste and also of strict principle, and objects to having a French person in the house.

She is a woman of taste and also of strict principle, and closely supervises her daughters' education.


I feel sure that she will think your manners and accomplishments as good as she is likely to find; and over the religious and moral tone of the education she, and indeed the bishop himself, will preside."

I feel sure that she will think your manners and accomplishments as good as she is likely to find."


Gwendolen dared not answer, but the repression of her decided dislike to the whole prospect sent an unusually deep flush over her face and neck, subsiding as quickly as it came.

Gwendolen dared not answer, but her dislike to the whole prospect made her flush deeply.


Anna, full of tender fears, put her little hand into her cousin's, and Mr. Gascoigne was too kind a man not to conceive something of the trial which this sudden change must be for a girl like Gwendolen.

Anna tenderly put her hand into her cousin's, and Mr. Gascoigne was too kind not to understand what a trial this sudden change must be.


Bent on giving a cheerful view of things, he went on, in an easy tone of remark, not as if answering supposed objections,


"I think so highly of the position, that I should have been tempted to try and get it for Anna, if she had been at all likely to meet Mrs. Mompert's wants.

"I should have been tempted to try and get the position for Anna, if she had been likely to meet Mrs. Mompert's wants.


It is really a home, with a continuance of education in the highest sense: 'governess' is a misnomer.

It is really a home, with a continuance of education in the highest sense.


The bishop's views are of a more decidedly Low Church color than my own--he is a close friend of Lord Grampian's; but, though privately strict, he is not by any means narrow in public matters.

The bishop's views are more decidedly Low Church than my own; but though privately strict, he is not by any means narrow in public matters.


Indeed, he has created as little dislike in his diocese as any bishop on the bench.


He has always remained friendly to me, though before his promotion, when he was an incumbent of this diocese, we had a little controversy about the Bible Society."

He has always been friendly to me, though before his promotion, we had a little controversy about the Bible Society."


The rector's words were too pregnant with satisfactory meaning to himself for him to imagine the effect they produced in the mind of his niece.

The rector's words were too full of satisfactory meaning to himself for him to imagine the effect they produced on his niece.


"Continuance of education"--"bishop's views"--"privately strict"--"Bible Society,"--it was as if he had introduced a few snakes at large for the instruction of ladies who regarded them as all alike furnished with poison-bags, and, biting or stinging, according to convenience.

"Bishop's views" - "privately strict" - "Bible Society," - it was as if he had introduced a few snakes into the conversation.


To Gwendolen, already shrinking from the prospect open to her, such phrases came like the growing heat of a burning glass--not at all as the links of persuasive reflection which they formed for the good uncle.


She began, desperately, to seek an alternative.

began desperately to seek an alternative.


"There was another situation, I think, mamma spoke of?"


'"Yes," said the rector, in rather a depreciatory tone; "but that is in a school.


I should not have the same satisfaction in your taking that.


It would be much harder work, you are aware, and not so good in any other respect.

It would be much harder work, and not so good in other respects."


Besides, you have not an equal chance of getting it."


"Oh dear no," said Mrs. Gascoigne, "it would be much harder for you, my dear--it would be much less appropriate.


"You might not have a bedroom to yourself."


And Gwendolen's memories of school suggested other particulars which forced her to admit to herself that this alternative would be no relief.


She turned to her uncle again and said, apparently in acceptance of his ideas,


"When is Mrs. Mompert likely to send for me?"


"That is rather uncertain, but she has promised not to entertain any other proposal till she has seen you.


She has entered with much feeling into your position.


It will be within the next fortnight, probably.


I am going to let part of my glebe uncommonly well."


The rector ended very cheerfully, leaving the room with the satisfactory conviction that Gwendolen was going to adapt herself to circumstances like a girl of good sense.

The rector left the room with the cheerful conviction that Gwendolen was going to act like a girl of good sense.


Having spoken appropriately, he naturally supposed that the effects would be appropriate; being accustomed, as a household and parish authority, to be asked to "speak to" refractory persons, with the understanding that the measure was morally coercive.


said Mrs. Gascoigne, when her husband had left the room.


"He is indeed," said Mrs. Davilow, cordially.


"I think cheerfulness is a fortune in itself.


"And Rex is just like him," said Mrs. Gascoigne.


"I must tell you the comfort we have had in a letter from him.

We have had such comfort in a letter from him.


I must read you a little bit," she added, taking the letter from her pocket, while Anna looked rather frightened--she did not know why, except that it had been a rule with her not to mention Rex before Gwendolen.

I must read you a little bit." She took the letter from her pocket, while Anna looked rather frightened, as she never mentioned Rex before Gwendolen.


The proud mother ran her eyes over the letter, seeking for sentences to read aloud.


But apparently she had found it sown with what might seem to be closer allusions than she desired to the recent past, for she looked up, folding the letter, and saying,

But her mother apparently found no sentences to read aloud that were free from difficult allusions, for she folded up the letter, saying-


"However, he tells us that our trouble has made a man of him; he sees a reason for any amount of work: he means to get a fellowship, to take pupils, to set one of his brothers going, to be everything that is most remarkable.

"He tells us that our trouble has made a man of him; he means to work for a fellowship, to take pupils, and to set one of his brothers going.


The letter is full of fun--just like him.

The letter is full of fun, just like him.


He says, 'Tell mother she has put out an advertisement for a jolly good hard-working son, in time to hinder me from taking ship; and I offer myself for the place.'

He says, 'Tell mother she has put out an advertisement for a jolly good hard-working son, and I offer myself for the place.'


I never saw my husband so much moved by anything since Rex was born.

I never saw my husband so much moved by anything as this letter.


This letter, in fact, was what had helped both Mrs. Gascoigne and Anna to show Gwendolen an unmixed kindliness; and she herself felt very amiably about it, smiling at Anna, and pinching her chin, as much as to say, "Nothing is wrong with you now, is it?"

This letter, in fact, was what had helped both Mrs. Gascoigne and Anna to show Gwendolen an unmixed kindliness; and she herself felt glad.


She had no gratuitously ill-natured feeling, or egoistic pleasure in making men miserable.

She had no egoistic pleasure in making men miserable.


She only had an intense objection to their making her miserable.


But when the talk turned on furniture for the cottage Gwendolen was not roused to show even a languid interest.

But when the talk turned on furniture for the cottage, Gwendolen could not show even a languid interest.


She thought that she had done as much as could be expected of her this morning, and indeed felt at an heroic pitch in keeping to herself the struggle that was going on within her.

She thought that she had done as much as could be expected of her this morning, and indeed felt heroic in keeping her internal struggle to herself.


The recoil of her mind from the only definite prospect allowed her, was stronger than even she had imagined beforehand.


The idea of presenting herself before Mrs. Mompert in the first instance, to be approved or disapproved, came as pressure on an already painful bruise; even as a governess, it appeared she was to be tested and was liable to rejection.

meeting Mrs. Mompert; even as a governess, she was to be tested and was liable to rejection.


After she had done herself the violence to accept the bishop and his wife, they were still to consider whether they would accept her; it was at her peril that she was to look, speak, or be silent.

After she had done herself the violence to accept the bishop and his wife, they were still to consider whether they would accept her.


And even when she had entered on her dismal task of self-constraint in the society of three girls whom she was bound incessantly to edify, the same process of inspection was to go on: there was always to be Mrs. Mompert's supervision; always something or other would be expected of her to which she had not the slightest inclination; and perhaps the bishop would examine her on serious topics.

And when she had entered on her dismal task of edifying the three girls, there was always to be Mrs. Mompert's supervision.


Gwendolen, lately used to the social successes of a handsome girl, whose lively venturesomeness of talk has the effect of wit, and who six weeks before would have pitied the dullness of the bishop rather than have been embarrassed by him, saw the life before her as an entrance into a penitentiary.

Gwendolen, used to the social successes of a handsome girl, whose lively, venturesome talk has the effect of wit, saw the life before her as an entrance into a penitentiary.


Wild thoughts of running away to be an actress, in spite of Klesmer, came to her with the lure of freedom; but his words still hung heavily on her soul; they had alarmed her pride and even her maidenly dignity: dimly she conceived herself getting amongst vulgar people who would treat her with rude familiarity--odious men, whose grins and smirks would not be seen through the strong grating of polite society.


Gwendolen's daring was not in the least that of the adventuress; the demand to be held a lady was in her very marrow; and when she had dreamed that she might be the heroine of the gaming-table, it was with the understanding that no one should treat her with the less consideration, or presume to look at her with irony as Deronda had done.


To be protected and petted, and to have her susceptibilities consulted in every detail, had gone along with her food and clothing as matters of course in her life: even without any such warning as Klesmer's she could not have thought it an attractive freedom to be thrown in solitary dependence on the doubtful civility of strangers.


The endurance of the episcopal penitentiary was less repulsive than that; though here too she would certainly never be petted or have her susceptibilities consulted.


Her rebellion against this hard necessity which had come just to her of all people in the world--to her whom all circumstances had concurred in preparing for something quite different--was exaggerated instead of diminished as one hour followed another, with the imagination of what she might have expected in her lot and what it was actually to be.

She felt a growing rebellion against this hard necessity which had come just to her of all people in the world - to her, who was meant for something quite different.


The family troubles, she thought, were easier for every one than for her--even for poor dear mamma, because she had always used herself to not enjoying.

The family troubles, she thought, were easier for everyone than for her.


As to hoping that if she went to the Momperts' and was patient a little while, things might get better--it would be stupid to entertain hopes for herself after all that had happened: her talents, it appeared, would never be recognized as anything remarkable, and there was not a single direction in which probability seemed to flatter her wishes.

If she went to the Momperts', her talents would never be recognized as anything remarkable.


Some beautiful girls who, like her, had read romances where even plain governesses are centres of attraction and are sought in marriage, might have solaced themselves a little by transporting such pictures into their own future; but even if Gwendolen's experience had led her to dwell on love-making and marriage as her elysium, her heart was too much oppressed by what was near to her, in both the past and the future, for her to project her anticipations very far off.

Some girls, who had read romances where even plain governesses are sought in marriage, might have solaced themselves a little by such pictures; but even if Gwendolen was inclined to dwell on love-making as her elysium, her heart was too much oppressed.


She had a world-nausea upon her, and saw no reason all through her life why she should wish to live.

She saw no reason why she should wish to live.


No religious view of trouble helped her: her troubles had in her opinion all been caused by other people's disagreeable or wicked conduct; and there was really nothing pleasant to be counted on in the world: that was her feeling; everything else she had heard said about trouble was mere phrase-making not attractive enough for her to have caught it up and repeated it.

No religious view of trouble helped her: her troubles had in her opinion all been caused by other people's conduct; and there was really nothing pleasant to be counted on in the world.


As to the sweetness of labor and fulfilled claims; the interest of inward and outward activity; the impersonal delights of life as a perpetual discovery; the dues of courage, fortitude, industry, which it is mere baseness not to pay toward the common burden; the supreme worth of the teacher's vocation;--these, even if they had been eloquently preached to her, could have been no more than faintly apprehended doctrines: the fact which wrought upon her was her invariable observation that for a lady to become a governess--to "take a situation"--was to descend in life and to be treated at best with a compassionate patronage.

As to the sweetness of labour, the interest of activity, the impersonal delights of life as a perpetual discovery, the dues of fortitude and industry, the supreme worth of the teacher's vocation;- these doctrines could have barely touched her: the only fact that mattered was that for a lady to become a governess was to descend in life.


And poor Gwendolen had never dissociated happiness from personal pre-eminence and _clat_.


That where these threatened to forsake her, she should take life to be hardly worth the having, cannot make her so unlike the rest of us, men or women, that we should cast her out of our compassion; our moments of temptation to a mean opinion of things in general being usually dependent on some susceptibility about ourselves and some dullness to subjects which every one else would consider more important.


Surely a young creature is pitiable who has the labyrinth of life before her and no clue--to whom distrust in herself and her good fortune has come as a sudden shock, like a rent across the path that she was treading carelessly.

We should pity a young creature who has the labyrinth of life before her and no clue as to how to navigate it.


In spite of her healthy frame, her irreconcilable repugnance affected her even physically; she felt a sort of numbness and could set about nothing; the least urgency, even that she should take her meals, was an irritation to her; the speech of others on any subject seemed unreasonable, because it did not include her feeling and was an ignorant claim on her.

In spite of her healthy frame, she felt a sort of numbness and could set about nothing; the least urgency was an irritation to her; the speech of others on any subject seemed unreasonable, because it did not include her feeling.


It was not in her nature to busy herself with the fancies of suicide to which disappointed young people are prone: what occupied and exasperated her was the sense that there was nothing for her but to live in a way she hated.

It was not in her nature to busy herself with fancies of suicide: what exasperated her was the sense that there was nothing for her but to live in a way she hated.


She avoided going to the rectory again: it was too intolerable to have to look and talk as if she were compliant; and she could not exert herself to show interest about the furniture of that horrible cottage.

She could not exert herself to visit the Gascoignes or to show interest about the furniture of the horrible cottage.


Miss Merry was staying on purpose to help, and such people as Jocosa liked that sort of thing.

Miss Merry was staying to help; such people as Jocosa liked that sort of thing.


Her mother had to make excuses for her not appearing, even when Anna came to see her.


For that calm which Gwendolen had promised herself to maintain had changed into sick motivelessness: she thought, "I suppose I shall begin to pretend by-and-by, but why should I do it now?"

The calm which Gwendolen had promised herself to maintain had changed into sick motivelessness: she thought, "I suppose I shall begin to pretend by-and-by, but why should I do it now?"


Her mother watched her with silent distress; and, lapsing into the habit of indulgent tenderness, she began to think what she imagined that Gwendolen was thinking, and to wish that everything should give way to the possibility of making her darling less miserable.

Her mother watched her with silent distress, wishing only that she could make her darling less miserable.


One day when she was in the black and yellow bedroom and her mother was lingering there under the pretext of considering and arranging Gwendolen's articles of dress, she suddenly roused herself to fetch the casket which contained the ornaments.

One day when Gwendolen was in the bedroom with her mother, she suddenly roused herself to fetch the casket which contained the ornaments.


"Mamma," she began, glancing over the upper layer, "I had forgotten these things.

"Mamma," she began, "I had forgotten these things.


You will not mind about parting with them.


She lifted the upper tray and looked below.


"If we can do without them, darling, I would rather keep them for you," said Mrs. Davilow, seating herself beside Gwendolen with a feeling of relief that she was beginning to talk about something.

"I would rather keep them for you, darling," said Mrs. Davilow, relieved that Gwendolen was beginning to talk about something.


The usual relation between them had become reversed.


It was now the mother who tried to cheer the daughter.


"Why, how came you to put that pocket handkerchief in here?"

"Why, how came you to put that handkerchief in here?"


It was the handkerchief with the corner torn off which Gwendolen had thrust in with the turquoise necklace.


"It happened to be with the necklace--I was in a hurry," said Gwendolen, taking the handkerchief away and putting it in her pocket.

"It happened to be with the necklace - I was in a hurry.


"Don't sell the necklace, mamma," she added, a new feeling having come over her about that rescue of it which had formerly been so offensive.

Don't sell the necklace, mamma," she said, a new feeling coming over her about that rescue of it which had formerly been so offensive.


"No, dear, no; it was made out of your dear father's chain.


And I should prefer not selling the other things.


All my best ornaments were taken from me long ago."


She usually avoided any reference to such facts about Gwendolen's step-father as that he had carried off his wife's jewelry and disposed of it.

coloured, for she usually avoided any such reference to Gwendolen's step-father, who had disposed of his wife's jewellery.


"And these things have not been reckoned on for any expenses.


"That would be quite useless, mamma," said Gwendolen, coldly.


You had better get me a gray frieze livery and a straw poke, such as my aunt's charity children wear."

You had better get me a straw poke hat, such as charity children wear."


"No, dear, no; don't take that view of it.


I feel sure the Momperts will like you the better for being graceful and elegant."

I feel sure the Momperts will like you to be graceful and elegant."


"I am not at all sure what the Momperts will like me to be.


It is enough that I am expected to be what they like," said Gwendolen bitterly.


"If there is anything you would object to less--anything that could be done--instead of your going to the bishop's, do say so, Gwendolen.

"If there is anything you would object to less than going to the bishop's, do tell me, Gwendolen.


I will try for anything you wish," said the mother, beseechingly.

I will try for anything you wish," beseeched her mother.


I must think myself fortunate if they will have me.


That is the only thing I have to think of.


I shall not spend any money this year: you will have all the eighty pounds.


I don't know how far that will go in housekeeping; but you need not stitch your poor fingers to the bone, and stare away all the sight that the tears have left in your dear eyes."

I don't know how far that will go in housekeeping; but you need not stitch your poor fingers to the bone."


Gwendolen did not give any caresses with her words as she had been used to do.


She did not even look at her mother, but was looking at the turquoise necklace as she turned it over her fingers.

Gwendolen did not even look at her mother, but at the turquoise necklace as she turned it over her fingers.


"Bless you for your tenderness, my good darling!"


said Mrs. Davilow, with tears in her eyes.


"Don't despair because there are clouds now.


There may be great happiness in store for you yet."


"I don't see any reason for expecting it, mamma," said Gwendolen, in a hard tone; and Mrs. Davilow was silent, thinking as she had often thought before--"What did happen between her and Mr. Grandcourt?"

"I don't see any reason for expecting it, mamma," said Gwendolen, in a hard tone; and Mrs. Davilow was silent, thinking as she had often thought before - "What did happen between her and Mr. Grandcourt?"


"I _will_ keep this necklace, mamma," said Gwendolen, laying it apart and then closing the casket.

"I will keep this necklace, mamma," said Gwendolen, laying it aside.


"But do get the other things sold, even if they will not bring much."


I wonder if all the poor wretches who have ever taken it felt as I do."


"How can any one know that I exaggerate, when I am speaking of my own feeling?


She took out the torn handkerchief from her pocket again, and wrapped it deliberately round the necklace.

She wrapped the torn handkerchief around the necklace.


Mrs. Davilow observed the action with some surprise, but the tone of her last words discouraged her from asking any question.

Mrs. Davilow observed this with surprise, but felt unable to ask any question.


The "feeling" Gwendolen spoke of with an air of tragedy was not to be explained by the mere fact that she was going to be a governess: she was possessed by a spirit of general disappointment.

Gwendolen was possessed by a spirit of general disappointment.


It was not simply that she had a distaste for what she was called on to do: the distaste spread itself over the world outside her penitentiary, since she saw nothing very pleasant in it that seemed attainable by her even if she were free.

It was not simply that she had a distaste for what she was called on to do: the distaste spread itself over the world.


Naturally her grievances did not seem to her smaller than some of her male contemporaries held theirs to be when they felt a profession too narrow for their powers, and had an _ priori_ conviction that it was not worth while to put forth their latent abilities.


Because her education had been less expensive than theirs, it did not follow that she should have wider emotions or a keener intellectual vision.


Her griefs were feminine; but to her as a woman they were not the less hard to bear, and she felt an equal right to the Promethean tone.


But the movement of mind which led her to keep the necklace, to fold it up in the handkerchief, and rise to put it in her _ncessaire_, where she had first placed it when it had been returned to her, was more peculiar, and what would be called less reasonable.

But the movement of mind which led her to keep the necklace, folded up in the handkerchief, was more peculiar.


It came from that streak of superstition in her which attached itself both to her confidence and her terror--a superstition which lingers in an intense personality even in spite of theory and science; any dread or hope for self being stronger than all reasons for or against it.

It came from that streak of superstition in her which attached itself both to her confidence and her terror - a superstition which lingers in an intense personality in spite of science.


Why she should suddenly determine not to part with the necklace was not much clearer to her than why she should sometimes have been frightened to find herself in the fields alone: she had a confused state of emotion about Deronda--was it wounded pride and resentment, or a certain awe and exceptional trust?

Why she should suddenly determine not to part with the necklace was not clear to her: she had a confused state of emotion about Deronda. Was it wounded pride and resentment, or a certain awe and trust?


It was something vague and yet mastering, which impelled her to this action about the necklace.

It was something vague and yet mastering, which impelled her to this action.


There is a great deal of unmapped country within us which would have to be taken into account in an explanation of our gusts and storms.


"The pang, the curse with which they died, Had never passed away: I could not draw my eyes from theirs, Nor lift them up to pray."

Book 7 - THE MOTHER AND THE SON | Chapter 56


Deronda did not take off his clothes that night.


Gwendolen, after insisting on seeing him again before she would consent to be undressed, had been perfectly quiet, and had only asked him, with a whispering, repressed eagerness, to promise that he would come to her when she sent for him in the morning.

Gwendolen, after insisting on seeing him again, had been perfectly quiet, and had only asked him, with a whispering eagerness, to promise to come to her in the morning.


Still, the possibility that a change might come over her, the danger of a supervening feverish condition, and the suspicion that something in the late catastrophe was having an effect which might betray itself in excited words, acted as a foreboding within him.


He mentioned to her attendant that he should keep himself ready to be called if there were any alarming change of symptoms, making it understood by all concerned that he was in communication with her friends in England, and felt bound meanwhile to take all care on her behalf--a position which it was the easier for him to assume, because he was well known to Grandcourt's valet, the only old servant who had come on the late voyage.

he told her attendant that he was ready to be called if there were any alarming change of symptoms, making it understood that he was in communication with her friends in England. He felt bound to take care of her - a position which was easy for him to assume, because he was well known to Grandcourt's valet.


But when fatigue from the strangely various emotion of the day at last sent Deronda to sleep, he remained undisturbed except by the morning dreams, which came as a tangled web of yesterday's events, and finally waked him, with an image drawn by his pressing anxiety.

When fatigue at last sent Deronda to sleep, his dreams came as a tangled web of yesterday's events, and finally waked him.


Still, it was morning, and there had been no summons--an augury which cheered him while he made his toilet, and reflected that it was too early to send inquiries.

Still, it was morning, and there had been no summons - an augury which cheered him while he dressed.


Later, he learned that she had passed a too wakeful night, but had shown no violent signs of agitation, and was at last sleeping.

On sending enquiries, he learned that Gwendolen had passed a wakeful night, but had shown no violent agitation, and was at last sleeping.


He wondered at the force that dwelt in this creature, so alive to dread; for he had an irresistible impression that even under the effects of a severe physical shock she was mastering herself with a determination of concealment.

He wondered at her strength; for he had an impression that even under the effects of a severe physical shock she was mastering herself with a determination of concealment.


For his own part, he thought that his sensibilities had been blunted by what he had been going through in the meeting with his mother: he seemed to himself now to be only fulfilling claims, and his more passionate sympathy was in abeyance.

For his own part, he thought that his sensibilities had been blunted by his meetings with his mother: his passionate sympathy was lacking.


He had lately been living so keenly in an experience quite apart from Gwendolen's lot, that his present cares for her were like a revisiting of scenes familiar in the past, and there was not yet a complete revival of the inward response to them.

He had lately been living so keenly in his own world that his cares for Gwendolen were like a revisiting of past scenes, and his response to her was not yet revived.


Meanwhile he employed himself in getting a formal, legally recognized statement from the fishermen who had rescued Gwendolen.

Meanwhile he got a formal, legal statement from the fishermen who had rescued Gwendolen.


The boat in which Grandcourt had gone out had been found drifting with its sail loose, and had been towed in.

Grandcourt's boat had been found drifting with its sail loose, and had been towed in.


The fishermen thought it likely that he had been knocked overboard by the flapping of the sail while putting about, and that he had not known how to swim; but, though they were near, their attention had been first arrested by a cry which seemed like that of a man in distress, and while they were hastening with their oars, they heard a shriek from the lady, and saw her jump in.

The fishermen thought it likely that he had been knocked overboard by the sail while putting about, and that he had not known how to swim; but their attention had been first arrested by his cry of distress, and while they were hastening with their oars, they heard a shriek from the lady, and saw her jump in.


On re-entering the hotel, Deronda was told that Gwendolen had risen, and was desiring to see him.

On re-entering the hotel, Deronda was told that Gwendolen had risen, and desired to see him.


He was shown into a room darkened by blinds and curtains, where she was seated with a white shawl wrapped round her, looking toward the opening door like one waiting uneasily.

He was shown into a darkened room, where she was sitting wrapped


But her long hair was gathered up and coiled carefully, and, through all, the blue stars in her ears had kept their place: as she started impulsively to her full height, sheathed in her white shawl, her face and neck not less white, except for a purple line under her eyes, her lips a little apart with the peculiar expression of one accused and helpless, she looked like the unhappy ghost of that Gwendolen Harleth whom Deronda had seen turning with firm lips and proud self-possession from her losses at the gaming table.

in a white shawl, her long hair carefully coiled and her little ear-rings still in place. As she stood, he saw a purple line under her eyes. With the expression of one accused and helpless, she looked like the unhappy ghost of that proud Gwendolen Harleth whom he had seen at the gaming table.


The sight pierced him with pity, and the effects of all their past relations began to revive within him.

The sight pierced him with pity, and his sympathy began to revive.


"I beseech you to rest--not to stand," said Deronda, as he approached her; and she obeyed, falling back into her chair again.

"I beseech you not to stand," he said. She fell back into her


She was in a large arm-chair, and he drew a small one near to her side.

chair, and he drew up another chair close by.


The action seemed to touch her peculiarly: turning her pale face full upon his, which was very near, she said, in the lowest audible tone, "You know I am a guilty woman?"

She said, in the lowest audible tone, "You know I am a guilty woman?"


Deronda himself turned paler as he said, "I know nothing."


She uttered this with the same undertoned decision.


"Yes," said Deronda, in a mournful suspense which made him reluctant to speak.

"Yes," said Deronda, in suspense and reluctant to speak.


"His face will not be seen above the water again," said Gwendolen, in a tone that was not louder, but of a suppressed eagerness, while she held both her hands clenched.

"His face will not be seen above the water again," said Gwendolen, clenching her hands.


"Not by any one else--only by me--a dead face--I shall never get away from it."

"Only by me - a dead face - I shall never get away from it."


It was with an inward voice of desperate self-repression that she spoke these last words, while she looked away from Deronda toward something at a distance from her on the floor.

She spoke these words with quiet, desperate self-repression, looking away from Deronda.


She was seeing the whole event--her own acts included--through an exaggerating medium of excitement and horror?

Was she exaggerating her own part in the event through horror?


Was she in a state of delirium into which there entered a sense of concealment and necessity for self-repression?

Was she in a state of delirium, which made her think some concealment was necessary?


Such thoughts glanced through Deronda as a sort of hope.


But imagine the conflict of feeling that kept him silent.


She was bent on confession, and he dreaded hearing her confession.


Against his better will he shrank from the task that was laid on him: he wished, and yet rebuked the wish as cowardly, that she could bury her secrets in her own bosom.

confess: he wished, and yet rebuked the wish as cowardly, that she could bury her secrets in her own bosom.


He dreaded the weight of this woman's soul flung upon his own with imploring dependence.


But she spoke again, hurriedly, looking at him,


"You will not say that I ought to tell the world?


you will not say that I ought to be disgraced?


I must tell you; but you will not say that any one else should know."

I must tell you; but you will not say that anyone else should know."


"I can say nothing in my ignorance," said Deronda, mournfully, "except that I desire to help you."


"I told you from the beginning--as soon as I could--I told you I was afraid of myself."

"I told you from the beginning that I was afraid of myself."


There was a piteous pleading in the low murmur in which Deronda turned his ear only.

There was a piteous pleading in the low murmur.


"I felt a hatred in me that was always working like an evil spirit--contriving things.


Everything I could do to free myself came into my mind; and it got worse--all things got worse.

Every way I could free myself came into my mind; and it got worse.


That is why I asked you to come to me in town.


I thought then I would tell you the worst about myself.


She paused, while a shudder passed through her; but soon went on.

She paused, shuddering; but soon went on.


Do you think a woman who cried, and prayed, and struggled to be saved from herself, could be a murderess?"


said Deronda, in a deep, shaken voice, "don't torture me needlessly.

said Deronda, in a deep, shaken voice, "don't torture me.


You threw yourself into the water with the impulse to save him.

You threw yourself into the water to save him.


This death was an accident that you could not have hindered."


The tremor, the childlike beseeching in these words compelled Deronda to turn his head and look at her face.

The childlike beseeching in these words compelled Deronda to look at her face.


"You said--you used to say--you felt more for those who had done something wicked and were miserable; you said they might get better--they might be scourged into something better.

"You said you felt for those who had done something wicked and were miserable; you said they might become better.


If you had not spoken in that way, everything would have been worse.


It came to me at the very last--that was the reason why I--But now, if you cannot bear with me when I tell you everything--if you turn away from me and forsake me, what shall I do?

It came to me at the very last - that was the reason why I - but now, if you turn away and forsake me, what shall I do?


Am I worse than I was when you found me and wanted to make me better?

Am I worse than I was when you wanted to make me better?