But presently there was stillness. Her mind had opened to the sense that he had gone away from her. When Deronda turned round to approach her again, he saw her face bent toward him, her eyes dilated, her lips parted. She was an image of timid forlorn beseeching--too timid to entreat in words while he kept himself aloof from her. Was she forsaken by him--now--already? But his eyes met hers sorrowfully--met hers for the first time fully since she had said, "You know I am a guilty woman," and that full glance in its intense mournfulness seemed to say, "I know it, but I shall all the less forsake you." He sat down by her side again in the same attitude--without turning his face toward her and without again taking her hand.
Once more Gwendolen was pierced, as she had been by his face of sorrow at the Abbey, with a compunction less egoistic than that which urged her to confess, and she said, in a tone of loving regret,
"I make you very unhappy."

But presently she was still. When Deronda turned round, he saw her eyes were dilated, her lips parted, in an image of forlorn beseeching - too timid to entreat in words. Was she forsaken by him now, already?
But his eyes met hers sorrowfully, and seemed to say, "I know you are guilty, but I shall not forsake you." He sat down by her side again.
Gwendolen was pierced with compunction, and she said, in a tone of loving regret-
"I make you very unhappy."
