Deronda had become as pallid as Mordecai. Quick as an alarm of flood or fire, there spread within him not only a compassionate dread of discouraging this fellowman who urged a prayer as one in the last agony, but also the opposing dread of fatally feeding an illusion, and being hurried on to a self-committal which might turn into a falsity. The peculiar appeal to his tenderness overcame the repulsion that most of us experience under a grasp and speech which assumed to dominate. The difficulty to him was to inflict the accents of hesitation and doubt on this ardent suffering creature, who was crowding too much of his brief being into a moment of perhaps extravagant trust. With exquisite instinct, Deronda, before he opened his lips, placed his palm gently on Mordecai's straining hand--an act just then equal to many speeches. And after that he said, without haste, as if conscious that he might be wrong,
"Do you forget what I told you when we first saw each other? Do you remember that I said I was not of your race?"

Deronda had become as pale as Mordecai. Quick as an alarm, there spread within him not only a compassionate dread of discouraging this dying fellow man, but also the opposing dread of fatally feeding an illusion, and of being hurried on to a self-committal which might prove impossible to carry out. The appeal to his tenderness overcame the repulsion that most of us experience under a dominating grasp and speech. His difficulty was how to express his doubts to this ardent suffering creature. With exquisite instinct, he placed his palm gently on Mordecai's straining hand. Then he said, without haste,-
"Do you forget what I told you when we first saw each other? Do you remember that I said I was not of your race?"
