"I repeat," said Deronda, emphatically--"I repeat that I have no assurance of her love for me, of the possibility that we can ever be united. Other things--painful issues may lie before me. I have always felt that I should prepare myself to renounce, not cherish that prospect. But I suppose I might feel so of happiness in general. Whether it may come or not, one should try and prepare one's self to do without it."
"Do you feel in that way?" said his mother, laying her hands on his shoulders, and perusing his face, while she spoke in a low meditative tone, pausing between her sentences. "Poor boy!----I wonder how it would have been if I had kept you with me----whether you would have turned your heart to the old things against mine----and we should have quarreled----your grandfather would have been in you----and you would have hampered my life with your young growth from the old root."
"I think my affection might have lasted through all our quarreling," said Deronda, saddened more and more, "and that would not have hampered--surely it would have enriched your life."
"Not then, not then----I did not want it then----I might have been glad of it now," said the mother, with a bitter melancholy, "if I could have been glad of anything."

"I repeat," said Deronda, emphatically, "that I have no assurance of her love for me. Other painful issues lie before me. I have always felt that I should prepare myself to renounce, not cherish that prospect. But whether happiness may come or not, one should prepare one's self to do without it."
"Do you feel in that way?" said his mother. "Poor boy! I wonder how it would have been if I had kept you with me - whether we should have quarrelled - your grandfather would have been in you - and you would have hampered my life."
"I think my affection might have lasted through our quarrelling," said Deronda, saddened, "and that surely would have enriched your life."
"Not then, I did not want it then. I might have been glad of it now," said the mother, with a bitter melancholy.
