She stepped out obediently, putting her hand in his and forgetting her hat; and when Deronda led her into the full light of the parlor where the four little women stood awaiting her, she made a picture that would have stirred much duller sensibilities than theirs. At first she was a little dazed by the sudden light, and before she had concentrated her glance he had put her hand into the mother's. He was inwardly rejoicing that the Meyricks were so small: the dark-curled head was the highest among them. The poor wanderer could not be afraid of these gentle faces so near hers: and now she was looking at each of them in turn while the mother said, "You must be weary, poor child."
"We will take care of you--we will comfort you--we will love you," cried Mab, no longer able to restrain herself, and taking the small right hand caressingly between both her own. This gentle welcoming warmth was penetrating the bewildered one: she hung back just enough to see better the four faces in front of her, whose good will was being reflected in hers, not in any smile, but in that undefinable change which tells us that anxiety is passing in contentment. For an instant she looked up at Deronda, as if she were referring all this mercy to him, and then again turning to Mrs. Meyrick, said with more collectedness in her sweet tones than he had heard before,
"I am a stranger. I am a Jewess. You might have thought I was wicked."

She stepped out obediently, putting her hand in his and forgetting her hat; and when Deronda led her into the light of the parlour, she made a picture that would have stirred much duller sensibilities than the Meyricks'. He put her hand into the mother's, inwardly rejoicing that the Meyricks were so small: the dark-curled head was the highest among them. The poor wanderer could not be afraid of these gentle faces: and now she was looking at each of them in turn while the mother said, "You must be weary, poor child."
"We will take care of you - we will comfort you," cried Mab, caressing the small hand with both her own. This welcoming warmth was penetrating the bewildered one: she said to Mrs. Meyrick, with more collectedness in her sweet tones than he had heard before-
"I am a stranger. I am a Jewess. You might have thought I was wicked."
