If the influence he imagined himself submitting to had been that of some honored professor, some authority in a seat of learning, some philosopher who had been accepted as a voice of the age, would a thorough receptiveness toward direction have been ridiculed?

If Mordecai were some honoured professor or distinguished philosopher, would Deronda's receptiveness toward him be ridiculed?


Only by those who hold it a sign of weakness to be obliged for an idea, and prefer to hint that they have implicitly held in a more correct form whatever others have stated with a sadly short-coming explicitness.


After all, what was there but vulgarity in taking the fact that Mordecai was a poor Jewish workman, and that he was to be met perhaps on a sanded floor in the parlor of the _Hand and Banner_ as a reason for determining beforehand that there was not some spiritual force within him that might have a determining effect on a white-handed gentleman?

Because he was a poor Jewish workman, to be met in the Hand and Banner, was that a reason for deciding that there was no spiritual force within him?


There is a legend told of the Emperor Domitian, that having heard of a Jewish family, of the house of David, whence the ruler of the world was to spring, he sent for its members in alarm, but quickly released them on observing that they had the hands of work-people--being of just the opposite opinion with that Rabbi who stood waiting at the gate of Rome in confidence that the Messiah would be found among the destitute who entered there.

There is a legend that the Emperor Domitian, having heard that a ruler of the world was to spring from a Jewish family, sent for its members in alarm, but quickly released them on observing that they had the hands of work-people; in contrast to the Rabbi who stood waiting at the gate of Rome, sure that the Messiah would be found among the destitute who entered there.


Both Emperor and Rabbi were wrong in their trust of outward signs: poverty and poor clothes are no sign of inspiration, said Deronda to his inward objector, but they have gone with it in some remarkable cases.

Both Emperor and Rabbi were wrong to trust outward signs: poverty and poor clothes are no mark of inspiration, said Deronda to himself, but they have gone with it in some remarkable cases.


And to regard discipleship as out of the question because of them, would be mere dullness of imagination.


A more plausible reason for putting discipleship out of the question was the strain of visionary excitement in Mordecai, which turned his wishes into overmastering impressions, and made him read outward facts as fulfillment.

A more plausible reason for rejecting discipleship was Mordecai's visionary excitement, which made him see events as fulfilment of his overwhelming wishes.


Was such a temper of mind likely to accompany that wise estimate of consequences which is the only safeguard from fatal error, even to ennobling motive?

Was he capable of judging consequences wisely in such a frame of mind?


But it remained to be seen whether that rare conjunction existed or not in Mordecai: perhaps his might be one of the natures where a wise estimate of consequences is fused in the fires of that passionate belief which determines the consequences it believes in.

But perhaps Mordecai might able to combine wise judgment with that passionate belief which determines the consequences it believes in.


The inspirations of the world have come in that way too: even strictly-measuring science could hardly have got on without that forecasting ardor which feels the agitations of discovery beforehand, and has a faith in its preconception that surmounts many failures of experiment.

Even strictly-measuring science could hardly have got on without that ardour which feels the excitement of discovery beforehand, and has a faith in its result that overcomes many failures of experiment.


And in relation to human motives and actions, passionate belief has a fuller efficacy.


Here enthusiasm may have the validity of proof, and happening in one soul, give the type of what will one day be general.


At least, Deronda argued, Mordecai's visionary excitability was hardly a reason for concluding beforehand that he was not worth listening to except for pity's sake.

At least, Deronda argued, Mordecai's visionary excitability was hardly a reason for assuming that he was not worth listening to.


Suppose he had introduced himself as one of the strictest reasoners. Do they form a body of men hitherto free from false conclusions and illusory speculations?

Are stricter reasoners free from false conclusions?


The driest argument has its hallucinations, too hastily concluding that its net will now at last be large enough to hold the universe. Men may dream in demonstrations, and cut out an illusory world in the shape of axioms, definitions, and propositions, with a final exclusion of fact signed Q.E.D. No formulas for thinking will save us mortals from mistake in our imperfect apprehension of the matter to be thought about.

The driest argument has its hallucinations; no formulas for thinking will save us imperfect mortals from mistake in our thought.


And since the unemotional intellect may carry us into a mathematical dreamland where nothing is but what is not, perhaps an emotional intellect may have absorbed into its passionate vision of possibilities some truth of what will be--the more comprehensive massive life feeding theory with new material, as the sensibility of the artist seizes combinations which science explains and justifies.


At any rate, presumptions to the contrary are not to be trusted.


We must be patient with the inevitable makeshift of our human thinking, whether in its sum total or in the separate minds that have made the sum.

We must be patient with the inevitable makeshift nature of our human thinking.


Columbus had some impressions about himself which we call superstitions, and used some arguments which we disapprove; but he had also some sound physical conceptions, and he had the passionate patience of genius to make them tell on mankind.

Columbus was superstitious; but he had also some sound ideas, and the passionate patience of genius to make them tell on mankind.


The world has made up its mind rather contemptuously about those who were deaf to Columbus.

The world is rather contemptuous about those who were deaf to Columbus.


"My contempt for them binds me to see that I don't adopt their mistake on a small scale," said Deronda, "and make myself deaf with the assumption that there cannot be any momentous relation between this Jew and me, simply because he has clad it in illusory notions.

"I must not adopt their mistake on a small scale," said Deronda, "and assume that there cannot be any momentous relation between this Jew and me, simply because of his visionary ideas.


What I can be to him, or he to me, may not at all depend on his persuasion about the way we came together.

What I can be to him, or he to me, may not depend on his belief about the way we came together.


To me the way seems made up of plainly discernible links.


If I had not found Mirah, it is probable that I should not have begun to be specially interested in the Jews, and certainly I should not have gone on that loitering search after an Ezra Cohen which made me pause at Ram's book-shop and ask the price of _Maimon_.

If I had not found Mirah, I should not have begun to be interested in the Jews, and certainly I should not have gone on that search after an Ezra Cohen which made me pause at Ram's book-shop.


Mordecai, on his side, had his visions of a disciple, and he saw me by their light; I corresponded well enough with the image his longing had created.

Mordecai, on his side, had his visions of a disciple, and I corresponded with the image his longing had created.


Suppose that his impression--the elderly Jew at Frankfort seemed to have something like it--suppose in spite of all presumptions to the contrary, that his impression should somehow be proved true, and that I should come actually to share any of the ideas he is devoted to?

The elderly Jew at Frankfort seemed to have the same impression. Suppose that this should somehow be proved true, and that I should come to share the ideas he is devoted to?


This is the only question which really concerns the effect of our meeting on my life.


"But if the issue should be quite different?--well, there will be something painful to go through.

"But if the result should be quite different?


I shall almost inevitably have to be an active cause of that poor fellow's crushing disappointment.

- well, there will be pain and crushing disappointment for the poor fellow.


Perhaps this issue is the one I had need prepare myself for.


I fear that no tenderness of mine can make his suffering lighter.

No tenderness of mine can make his suffering lighter.


Would the alternative--that I should not disappoint him--be less painful to me?"

Would the alternative - that I should not disappoint him - be less painful to me?"


Feelings had lately been at work within him which had very much modified the reluctance he would formerly have had to think of himself as probably a Jew.

Feelings had lately been at work within him which had very much modified the reluctance with which he would formerly have thought of himself as a Jew.


That young energy and spirit of adventure which have helped to create the world-wide legions of youthful heroes going to seek the hidden tokens of their birth and its inheritance of tasks, gave him a certain quivering interest in the bare possibility that he was entering on a like track --all the more because the track was one of thought as well as action.

His young energy and spirit of adventure gave him a certain quivering interest in the track he might enter - especially when the track was one of thought as well as action.


"The bare possibility." He could not admit it to be more.

But his Jewishness was no more than a bare possibility.


The belief that his father was an Englishman only grew firmer under the weak assaults of unwarranted doubt.


And that a moment should ever come in which that belief was declared a delusion, was something of which Deronda would not say, "I should be glad."


His life-long affection for Sir Hugo, stronger than all his resentment, made him shrink from admitting that wish.

And Deronda's life-long affection for Sir Hugo made him shrink from admitting that wish.


Which way soever the truth might lie, he repeated to himself what he had said to Mordecai--that he could not without farther reasons undertake to hasten its discovery.

Whatever the truth about his birth might be, he decided that he would not hasten its discovery.


Nay, he was tempted now to regard his uncertainty as a condition to be cherished for the present.

Rather, he cherished his present uncertainty.


If further intercourse revealed nothing but illusions as what he was expected to share in, the want of any valid evidence that he was a Jew might save Mordecai the worst shock in the refusal of fraternity.


It might even be justifiable to use the uncertainty on this point in keeping up a suspense which would induce Mordecai to accept those offices of friendship that Deronda longed to urge on him.

It might even be justifiable to use it in keeping up a suspense which would induce Mordecai to accept the friendly help that Deronda longed to urge on him.


These were the meditations that busied Deronda in the interval of four days before he could fulfill his promise to call for Mordecai at Ezra Cohen's, Sir Hugo's demands on him often lasting to an hour so late as to put the evening expedition to Holborn out of the question.

These were the thoughts that busied Deronda in the four days before he could call on Mordecai again: Sir Hugo's demands on him continued so late as to put a trip to Holborn out of the question.


What name doth Joy most borrow When life is fair?


What name doth best fit Sorrow In young despair?


There was a much more lasting trouble at the rectory.


Rex arrived there only to throw himself on his bed in a state of apparent apathy, unbroken till the next day, when it began to be interrupted by more positive signs of illness.

Rex threw himself on his bed in a state of apathy, which the next day began to be interrupted by signs of illness.


Nothing could be said about his going to Southampton: instead of that, the chief thought of his mother and Anna was how to tend this patient who did not want to be well, and from being the brightest, most grateful spirit in the household, was metamorphosed into an irresponsive, dull-eyed creature who met all affectionate attempts with a murmur of "Let me alone."

Nothing could be said about his going to Southampton: instead, the chief thought of his mother and Anna was how to tend this patient who did not want to be well, and from being the brightest, most grateful spirit in the household, was changed into a dull-eyed creature who met all affectionate attempts with a murmur of "Let me alone."


His father looked beyond the crisis, and believed it to be the shortest way out of an unlucky affair; but he was sorry for the inevitable suffering, and went now and then to sit by him in silence for a few minutes, parting with a gentle pressure of his hand on Rex's blank brow, and a "God bless you, my boy."

His father was sorry for his suffering, and sat with him now and then, parting with a "God bless you, my boy."


Warham and the younger children used to peep round the edge of the door to see this incredible thing of their lively brother being laid low; but fingers were immediately shaken at them to drive them back.


The guardian who was always there was Anna, and her little hand was allowed to rest within her brother's, though he never gave it a welcoming pressure.

Anna was always there, and was allowed to hold his unresponding hand.


Her soul was divided between anguish for Rex and reproach of Gwendolen.


"Perhaps it is wicked of me, but I think I never _can_ love her again," came as the recurrent burden of poor little Anna's inward monody.


And even Mrs. Gascoigne had an angry feeling toward her niece which she could not refrain from expressing (apologetically) to her husband.

And even Mrs. Gascoigne had an angry feeling toward her niece which she could not refrain from expressing to her husband.


"I know of course it is better, and we ought to be thankful that she is not in love with the poor boy; but really.


"Really, Henry, I think she is hard; she has the heart of a coquette.


I can not help thinking that she must have made him believe something, or the disappointment would not have taken hold of him in that way.


And some blame attaches to poor Fanny; she is quite blind about that girl."


Mr. Gascoigne answered imperatively: "The less said on that point the better, Nancy. I ought to have been more awake myself.

Mr. Gascoigne answered: "I ought to have been more awake myself.


As to the boy, be thankful if nothing worse ever happens to him.

Rex may be thankful if nothing worse ever happens to him."


Let the thing die out as quickly as possible; and especially with regard to Gwendolen--let it be as if it had never been."


The rector's dominant feeling was that there had been a great escape.

The rector felt that there had been a great escape.


Gwendolen in love with Rex in return would have made a much harder problem, the solution of which might have been taken out of his hands.

Gwendolen in love with Rex would have made a much harder problem to solve.


But he had to go through some further difficulty.


One fine morning Rex asked for his bath, and made his toilet as usual.

One fine morning Rex asked for his bath, and dressed himself.


Anna, full of excitement at this change, could do nothing but listen for his coming down, and at last hearing his step, ran to the foot of the stairs to meet him.

Anna, excited at this change, listened for his coming down, and on hearing his step, ran to meet him.


For the first time he gave her a faint smile, but it looked so melancholy on his pale face that she could hardly help crying.

For the first time he gave her a faint smile, but such a melancholy one that she could hardly help crying.


he said gently, taking her hand and leading her slowly along with him to the drawing-room.

he said gently, taking her hand and leading her slowly to the drawing-room.


His mother was there, and when she came to kiss him, he said: "What a plague I am!"


Then he sat still and looked out of the bow-window on the lawn and shrubs covered with hoar-frost, across which the sun was sending faint occasional gleams:--something like that sad smile on Rex's face, Anna thought.

Then he sat still and looked out of the bow-window on the lawn and shrubs covered with hoar-frost.


He felt as if he had had a resurrection into a new world, and did not know what to do with himself there, the old interests being left behind.

He felt as if he had had a resurrection into a new world, and did not know what to do with himself there.


Anna sat near him, pretending to work, but really watching him with yearning looks.

Anna sat near him, pretending to work, but really watching him.


Beyond the garden hedge there was a road where wagons and carts sometimes went on field-work: a railed opening was made in the hedge, because the upland with its bordering wood and clump of ash-trees against the sky was a pretty sight.


Presently there came along a wagon laden with timber; the horses were straining their grand muscles, and the driver having cracked his whip, ran along anxiously to guide the leader's head, fearing a swerve.


Rex seemed to be shaken into attention, rose and looked till the last quivering trunk of the timber had disappeared, and then walked once or twice along the room.


Mrs. Gascoigne was no longer there, and when he came to sit down again, Anna, seeing a return of speech in her brother's eyes, could not resist the impulse to bring a little stool and seat herself against his knee, looking up at him with an expression which seemed to say, "Do speak to me."

After a while, she could not resist the impulse to bring a little stool and seat herself against his knee, looking up at him with an expression which seemed to say, "Do speak to me."


"I'll tell you what I'm thinking of, Nannie. I will go to Canada, or somewhere of that sort."

"Nannie, I think I will go to Canada, or somewhere of that sort."


(Rex had not studied the character of our colonial possessions.)


I should like to build a hut, and work hard at clearing, and have everything wild about me, and a great wide quiet."


"I should like it better than anything; and settlers go with their families.


I would sooner go there than stay here in England.


I could make the fires, and mend the clothes, and cook the food; and I could learn how to make the bread before we went.

I could make the fires, and mend the clothes, and cook the food.


It would be nicer than anything--like playing at life over again, as we used to do when we made our tent with the drugget, and had our little plates and dishes."

It would be like playing at life as we used to do when we made our tent with the drugget, and had our little plates and dishes."


"Father and mother would not let you go."


"Yes, I think they would, when I explained everything.


It would save money; and papa would have more to bring up the boys with."

It would save money to bring up the boys with."


There was further talk of the same practical kind at intervals, and it ended in Rex's being obliged to consent that Anna should go with him when he spoke to his father on the subject.

The talk ended in Rex's consenting that Anna should go with him when he spoke to his father on the subject.


Of course it was when the rector was alone in his study.

They chose a time when the rector was alone in his study.


Their mother would become reconciled to whatever he decided on, but mentioned to her first, the question would have distressed her.


said Mr. Gascoigne, cheerfully, as they entered.


It was a comfort to see Rex about again.


"May we sit down with you a little, papa?"


It was a noticeable group that these three creatures made, each of them with a face of the same structural type--the straight brow, the nose suddenly straightened from an intention of being aquiline, the short upper lip, the short but strong and well-hung chin: there was even the same tone of complexion and set of the eye.


The gray-haired father was at once massive and keen-looking; there was a perpendicular line in his brow which when he spoke with any force of interest deepened; and the habit of ruling gave him an air of reserved authoritativeness.


Rex would have seemed a vision of his father's youth, if it had been possible to imagine Mr. Gascoigne without distinct plans and without command, smitten with a heart sorrow, and having no more notion of concealment than a sick animal; and Anna was a tiny copy of Rex, with hair drawn back and knotted, her face following his in its changes of expression, as if they had one soul between them.


"You know all about what has upset me, father," Rex began, and Mr. Gascoigne nodded.


"I am quite done up for life in this part of the world.


I am sure it will be no use my going back to Oxford.


I should fail, and cause you expense for nothing.


I want to have your consent to take another course, sir."


Mr. Gascoigne nodded more slowly, the perpendicular line on his brow deepened, and Anna's trembling increased.

Mr. Gascoigne nodded more slowly, the line on his brow deepening.


"If you would allow me a small outfit, I should like to go to the colonies and work on the land there."

"I should like to go to the colonies and work on the land there."


Rex thought the vagueness of the phrase prudential; "the colonies" necessarily embracing more advantages, and being less capable of being rebutted on a single ground than any particular settlement.

Rex thought the vagueness of "the colonies" less likely to be rebutted than any particular settlement.


"Oh, and with me, papa," said Anna, not bearing to be left out from the proposal even temporarily.


"Rex would want some one to take care of him, you know--some one to keep house.

"Rex would want someone to take care of him, you know, to keep house.


And we shall never, either of us, be married.


And I should cost nothing, and I should be so happy.


I know it would be hard to leave you and mamma; but there are all the others to bring up, and we two should be no trouble to you any more."

I know it would be hard to leave you and mamma; but there are the others to bring up, and we two should be no trouble to you any more."


Anna had risen from her seat, and used the feminine argument of going closer to her papa as she spoke.

Anna had gone closer to her papa as she spoke.


He did not smile, but he drew her on his knee and held her there, as if to put her gently out of the question while he spoke to Rex.

He did not smile, but drew her on his knee and held her there, as if to put her gently out of the question while he spoke to Rex.


"You will admit that my experience gives me some power of judging for you, and that I can probably guide you in practical matters better than you can guide yourself?"

"You will admit that my experience means that I can probably guide you in practical matters better than you can guide yourself?"


"And perhaps you will admit--though I don't wish to press that point--that you are bound in duty to consider my judgment and wishes?"

"And perhaps you will admit that you are bound in duty to consider my judgment and wishes?"


"I have never yet placed myself in opposition to you, sir."


Rex in his secret soul could not feel that he was bound not to go to the colonies, but to go to Oxford again--which was the point in question.


"But you will do so if you persist in setting your mind toward a rash and foolish procedure, and deafening yourself to considerations which my experience of life assures me of.

"But you will do so if you persist in following a rash and foolish course.


You think, I suppose, that you have had a shock which has changed all your inclinations, stupefied your brains, unfitted you for anything but manual labor, and given you a dislike to society?

You think, I suppose, that you have had a shock which has stupefied your brains, unfitted you for anything but manual labour, and given you a dislike to society?


I shall never be up to the sort of work I must do to live in this part of the world.

I shall never be up to the sort of work I must do in this part of the world.


And without any disrespect to you, father, I think a young fellow should be allowed to choose his way of life, if he does nobody any harm.

And I think a young fellow should be allowed to choose his way of life, if he harms nobody."


There are plenty to stay at home, and those who like might be allowed to go where there are empty places."


"But suppose I am convinced on good evidence--as I am--that this state of mind of yours is transient, and that if you went off as you propose, you would by-and-by repent, and feel that you had let yourself slip back from the point you have been gaining by your education till now?

"But suppose I am convinced on good evidence that this state of mind is transient, and that you would by-and-by repent, and feel that you had lost the chance of education?


Have you not strength of mind enough to see that you had better act on my assurance for a time, and test it?


In my opinion, so far from agreeing with you that you should be free to turn yourself into a colonist and work in your shirt-sleeves with spade and hatchet--in my opinion you have no right whatever to expatriate yourself until you have honestly endeavored to turn to account the education you have received here.

In my opinion you have no right whatever to go abroad until you have honestly endeavoured to turn to account the education you have received here.


I say nothing of the grief to your mother and me."


I can't study--that's certain," said Rex.

I can't study, that's certain," said Rex.


I have made arrangements for you--how you are to spend the next two months.


But I confess I am disappointed in you, Rex.


I thought you had more sense than to take up such ideas--to suppose that because you have fallen into a very common trouble, such as most men have to go through, you are loosened from all bonds of duty--just as if your brain had softened and you were no longer a responsible being."

I thought you had more sense than to suppose that because you have fallen into a common trouble, such as most men have to go through, you are loosened from all bonds of duty - as if your brain had softened and you were no longer a responsible being."


Inwardly he was in a state of rebellion, but he had no arguments to meet his father's; and while he was feeling, in spite of any thing that might be said, that he should like to go off to "the colonies" to-morrow, it lay in a deep fold of his consciousness that he ought to feel--if he had been a better fellow he would have felt--more about his old ties.

Inwardly he rebelled, but he had no arguments to meet his father's; and it lay in a deep fold of his consciousness that he ought to feel more about his old ties.


This is the sort of faith we live by in our soul sicknesses.


Rex got up from his seat, as if he held the conference to be at an end.


said Mr. Gascoigne, with that distinct resolution of tone which seems to hold one in a vise.


There was a little pause before Rex answered, "I'll try what I can do, sir.

There was a pause before Rex answered, "I'll try, sir.


His thought was, that trying would be of no use.


Her father kept Anna, holding her fast, though she wanted to follow Rex.

Her father held Anna, though she wanted to follow Rex out of the room.


"Oh, papa," she said, the tears coming with her words when the door had closed; "it is very hard for him.

"Oh, papa," she said when the door had closed; "it is very hard for him.


"Yes, but he will soon be better; it will all blow over.


And now, Anna, be as quiet as a mouse about it all.

And now, Anna, be as quiet as a mouse about it.


Never let it be mentioned when he is gone."


But I would not be like Gwendolen for any thing--to have people fall in love with me so.


Anna dared not say that she was disappointed at not being allowed to go to the colonies with Rex; but that was her secret feeling, and she often afterward went inwardly over the whole affair, saying to herself, "I should have done with going out, and gloves, and crinoline, and having to talk when I am taken to dinner--and all that!"

Anna dared not say that she was disappointed at not being allowed to go to the colonies with Rex; but that was her secret feeling.


I like to mark the time, and connect the course of individual lives with the historic stream, for all classes of thinkers.


This was the period when the broadening of gauge in crinolines seemed to demand an agitation for the general enlargement of churches, ball-rooms, and vehicles.


But Anna Gascoigne's figure would only allow the size of skirt manufactured for young ladies of fourteen.


Life is a various mother: now she dons Her plumes and brilliants, climbs the marble stairs With head aloft, nor ever turns her eyes On lackeys who attend her; now she dwells Grim-clad, up darksome alleys, breathes hot gin, And screams in pauper riot.


But to these She came a frugal matron, neat and deft, With cheerful morning thoughts and quick device To find the much in little.


Mrs. Meyrick's house was not noisy: the front parlor looked on the river, and the back on gardens, so that though she was reading aloud to her daughters, the window could be left open to freshen the air of the small double room where a lamp and two candles were burning.

Mrs. Meyrick's house was not noisy: the front parlour looked on the river, and the back on gardens, so that though she was reading aloud to her daughters, the window could be left open to freshen the air of the small double room where a lamp and two candles were burning.


The candles were on a table apart for Kate, who was drawing illustrations for a publisher; the lamp was not only for the reader but for Amy and Mab, who were embroidering satin cushions for "the great world."

The candles were on a table for Kate, who was drawing illustrations for a publisher; Amy and Mab were embroidering satin cushions for "the great world."


Outside, the house looked very narrow and shabby, the bright light through the holland blind showing the heavy old-fashioned window-frame; but it is pleasant to know that many such grim-walled slices of space in our foggy London have been and still are the homes of a culture the more spotlessly free from vulgarity, because poverty has rendered everything like display an impersonal question, and all the grand shows of the world simply a spectacle which rouses petty rivalry or vain effort after possession.

Outside, the house looked very narrow and shabby, but many such grim-walled slices of our foggy London are the homes of a culture where poverty has put anything like vulgar display out of the question.


The Meyricks' was a home of that kind: and they all clung to this particular house in a row because its interior was filled with objects always in the same places, which, for the mother held memories of her marriage time, and for the young ones seemed as necessary and uncriticised a part of their world as the stars of the Great Bear seen from the back windows.

The Meyricks' was a home of that kind: its interior was filled with objects which, for the mother, held memories of her marriage, and for the young ones seemed as necessary and uncriticised a part of their world as the stars.


Mrs. Meyrick had borne much stint of other matters that she might be able to keep some engravings specially cherished by her husband; and the narrow spaces of wall held a world history in scenes and heads which the children had early learned by heart.

Mrs. Meyrick had stinted on other things so that she might keep some engravings specially cherished by her husband; and the narrow spaces of wall held a world history which the children had early learned by heart.


The chairs and tables were also old friends preferred to new.

The chairs and tables were also old friends.


But in these two little parlors with no furniture that a broker would have cared to cheapen except the prints and piano, there was space and apparatus for a wide-glancing, nicely-select life, opened to the highest things in music, painting and poetry.

But in these two little parlours with cheap furniture, there was space for a wide-glancing life, opened to the highest things in music, painting and poetry.


I am not sure that in the times of greatest scarcity, before Kate could get paid-work, these ladies had always had a servant to light their fires and sweep their rooms; yet they were fastidious in some points, and could not believe that the manners of ladies in the fashionable world were so full of coarse selfishness, petty quarreling, and slang as they are represented to be in what are called literary photographs.


The Meyricks had their little oddities, streaks of eccentricity from the mother's blood as well as the father's, their minds being like medival houses with unexpected recesses and openings from this into that, flights of steps and sudden outlooks.

The Meyricks had their little oddities, streaks of eccentricity from the mother's blood as well as the father's, their minds being like mediaeval houses with unexpected recesses and openings.


But mother and daughters were all united by a triple bond--family love; admiration for the finest work, the best action; and habitual industry.

But mother and daughters were all united by a triple bond - family love; admiration for the finest work; and industry.


Hans' desire to spend some of his money in making their lives more luxurious had been resisted by all of them, and both they and he had been thus saved from regrets at the threatened triumphs of his yearning for art over the attractions of secured income--a triumph that would by-and-by oblige him to give up his fellowship.

Hans's desire to spend his money in making their lives more luxurious had been resisted by all of them, saving him from regrets over his yearning for art that would by-and-by oblige him to give up his fellowship.


They could all afford to laugh at his Gavarni-caricatures and to hold him blameless in following a natural bent which their unselfishness and independence had left without obstacle.


It was enough for them to go on in their old way, only having a grand treat of opera-going (to the gallery) when Hans came home on a visit.

It was enough for them to have only a grand treat of opera-going (to the gallery) when Hans came home on a visit.


Seeing the group they made this evening, one could hardly wish them to change their way of life.


They were all alike small, and so in due proportion to their miniature rooms.

They were all small, and so in due proportion to their miniature rooms.


Mrs. Meyrick was reading aloud from a French book; she was a lively little woman, half French, half Scotch, with a pretty articulateness of speech that seemed to make daylight in her hearer's understanding.

Mrs. Meyrick was reading aloud from a French book; she was a lively little woman, half French, half Scotch, with a pretty articulateness of speech.


Though she was not yet fifty, her rippling hair, covered by a quakerish net cap, was chiefly gray, but her eyebrows were brown as the bright eyes below them; her black dress, almost like a priest's cassock with its rows of buttons, suited a neat figure hardly five feet high.

Though she was not yet fifty, her rippling hair, covered by a quakerish net cap, was grey; her black dress suited a neat figure hardly five feet high.


The daughters were to match the mother, except that Mab had Hans' light hair and complexion, with a bossy, irregular brow, and other quaintnesses that reminded one of him.


Everything about them was compact, from the firm coils of their hair, fastened back _ la Chinoise_, to their gray skirts in Puritan nonconformity with the fashion, which at that time would have demanded that four feminine circumferences should fill all the free space in the front parlor.

Everything about them was compact, from the firm coils of their hair, to their grey skirts in Puritan nonconformity with the fashion, which at that time would have demanded that four feminine circumferences should fill all the free space in the front parlour.


All four, if they had been wax-work, might have been packed easily in a fashionable lady's traveling trunk.


Their faces seemed full of speech, as if their minds had been shelled, after the manner of horse-chestnuts, and become brightly visible.


The only large thing of its kind in the room was Hafiz, the Persian cat, comfortably poised on the brown leather back of a chair, and opening his large eyes now and then to see that the lower animals were not in any mischief.

The only large thing of its kind in the room was Hafiz, the Persian cat, comfortably poised on a chair, and opening his eyes now and then to see that the lower animals were not in any mischief.


The book Mrs. Meyrick had before her was Erckmann-Chatrian's _Historie d'un Conscrit_.

The book Mrs. Meyrick had before her was Erckmann-Chatrian's Historie d'un Conscrit.


She had just finished reading it aloud, and Mab, who had let her work fall on the ground while she stretched her head forward and fixed her eyes on the reader, exclaimed,

She had just finished reading aloud, and Mab exclaimed-


"I think that is the finest story in the world."


said Amy, "it is the last you have heard.


Everything that pleases you is the best in its turn."


"It is hardly to be called a story," said Kate.


"It is a bit of history brought near us with a strong telescope. We can see the soldiers' faces: no, it is more than that--we can hear everything--we can almost hear their hearts beat."

"It is a bit of history brought near us with a strong telescope, so that we can see the soldiers' faces."


"I don't care what you call it," said Mab, flirting away her thimble.

"I don't care what you call it," said Mab.


"It makes me want to do something good, something grand.


It makes me like Schiller--I want to take the world in my arms and kiss it.


I must kiss you instead, little mother!"


She threw her arms round her mother's neck.


"Whenever you are in that mood, Mab, down goes your work," said Amy.


"It would be doing something good to finish your cushion without soiling it."


groaned Mab, as she stooped to pick up her work and thimble.


"I wish I had three wounded conscripts to take care of."


"You would spill their beef tea while you were talking," said Amy.

"You would spill their beef-tea while you were talking," said Amy.


You go on with your enthusiasm, and I will go on with the pink and white poppy."


"Well, ma, I think you are more caustic than Amy," said Kate, while she drew her head back to look at her drawing.


cried Mab again, rising and stretching her arms.


"I wish something wonderful would happen.


The waters of the great deep are broken up, and the windows of heaven are opened.


Mab was opening the piano while the others were laughing at this climax, when a cab stopped before the house, and there forthwith came a quick rap of the knocker.

Mab was opening the piano when a cab stopped before the house, and there came a rap of the knocker.


said Mrs. Meyrick, starting up, "it is after ten, and Phoebe is gone to bed."


She hastened out, leaving the parlor door open.

She hastened out, leaving the parlour door open.


The girls could hear this exclamation from their mamma.


Mab clasped her hands, saying in a loud whisper, "There now!

Mab clasped her hands, saying in a whisper, "There now!


Kate and Amy gave up their work in amazement.


But Deronda's tone in reply was so low that they could not hear his words, and Mrs. Meyrick immediately closed the parlor door.

But they could not hear Deronda's low reply, and Mrs. Meyrick immediately closed the parlour door.


"I know I am trusting to your goodness in a most extraordinary way," Deronda went on, after giving his brief narrative; "but you can imagine how helpless I feel with a young creature like this on my hands.

"I know I am trusting to your goodness in an extraordinary way," Deronda was saying, after giving his brief narrative; "but you can imagine how helpless I feel with this young creature on my hands.


I could not go with her among strangers, and in her nervous state I should dread taking her into a house full of servants.

I could not take her among strangers, and in her nervous state I should dread taking her into a house full of servants.


I hope you will not think my act unwarrantable."


While Deronda went back to the cab, Mrs. Meyrick turned into the parlor again and said: "Here is somebody to take care of instead of your wounded conscripts, Mab: a poor girl who was going to drown herself in despair.

While Deronda went back to the cab, Mrs. Meyrick turned into the parlour and said: "Here is somebody to take care of instead of your wounded conscripts, Mab: a poor girl who was going to drown herself in despair.


Mr. Deronda found her only just in time to save her.

Mr. Deronda found her just in time to save her.


He brought her along in his boat, and did not know what else it would be safe to do with her, so he has trusted us and brought her here.

He did not know what else it would be safe to do with her, so he has trusted us and brought her here.


It seems she is a Jewess, but quite refined, he says--knowing Italian and music."

It seems she is a Jewess, but quite refined, he says - knowing Italian and music."


The three girls, wondering and expectant, came forward and stood near each other in mute confidence that they were all feeling alike under this appeal to their compassion. Mab looked rather awe-stricken, as if this answer to her wish were something preternatural.

The three girls were wondering and expectant: Mab looked rather awe-stricken at this answer to her wish.


Meanwhile Deronda going to the door of the cab where the pale face was now gazing out with roused observation, said, "I have brought you to some of the kindest people in the world: there are daughters like you.

Meanwhile Deronda, returning to the cab where the pale face was gazing out, said, "I have brought you to some of the kindest people in the world: there are daughters like you.


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.

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'.


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.

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 so near hers: and now she was looking at each of them in turn while the mother said, "You must be weary, poor child."

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--we will love you," cried Mab, no longer able to restrain herself, and taking the small right hand caressingly between both her own.

"We will take care of you - we will comfort you," cried Mab, caressing the small hand with 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,

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-


"No, we are sure you are good," burst out Mab.


You shall be safe with us," said Mrs. Meyrick.


You must have some food, and then you must go to rest."

You must have some food, and then you must rest."


The stranger looked up again at Deronda, who said,

The stranger looked up again at Deronda, who said-


"You will have no more fears with these friends?"


I think these are the ministering angels."


Mrs. Meyrick wanted to lead her to seat, but again hanging back gently, the poor weary thing spoke as if with a scruple at being received without a further account of herself.

Mrs. Meyrick wanted to lead her to a seat, but hanging back gently, the poor weary thing spoke as if needing to give a further account of herself.


I am come a long way, all the way from Prague by myself.


I came to find my mother and brother in London.


I had been taken from my mother when I was little, but I thought I could find her again.


I had trouble--the houses were all gone--I could not find her.

But the houses were all gone - I could not find her.


It has been a long while, and I had not much money.


"Our mother will be good to you," cried Mab.


"Do sit down now," said Kate, moving a chair forward, while Amy ran to get some tea.


Mirah resisted no longer, but seated herself with perfect grace, crossing her little feet, laying her hands one over the other on her lap, and looking at her friends with placid reverence; whereupon Hafiz, who had been watching the scene restlessly came forward with tail erect and rubbed himself against her ankles.

Mirah resisted no longer, but seated herself with perfect grace; whereupon Hafiz came forward with tail erect and rubbed himself against her ankles.


"Will you allow me to come again and inquire--perhaps at five to-morrow?"

"Will you allow me to come and inquire - perhaps at five tomorrow?"


"Yes, pray; we shall have had time to make acquaintance then."

"Yes; we shall have had time to make acquaintance then."


"Good-bye," said Deronda, looking down at Mirah, and putting out his hand.


She rose as she took it, and the moment brought back to them both strongly the other moment when she had first taken that outstretched hand.


She lifted her eyes to his and said with reverential fervor, "The God of our fathers bless you and deliver you from all evil as you have delivered me.

She said with reverential fervour,
"The God of our fathers bless you and deliver you from all evil as you have delivered me.


I did not believe there was any man so good.


None before have thought me worthy of the best.


You found me poor and miserable, yet you have given me the best."


Deronda could not speak, but with silent adieux to the Meyricks, hurried away.


"The human nature unto which I felt That I belonged, and reverenced with love, Was not a punctual presence, but a spirit Diffused through time and space, with aid derived Of evidence from monuments, erect, Prostrate, or leaning toward their common rest In earth, the widely scattered wreck sublime Of vanished nations."


Sir Hugo carried out his plan of spending part of the autumn at Diplow, and by the beginning of October his presence was spreading some cheerfulness in the neighborhood, among all ranks and persons concerned, from the stately home of Brackenshaw and Quetcham to the respectable shop-parlors in Wanchester.

Sir Hugo carried out his plan of spending part of the autumn at Diplow.


For Sir Hugo was a man who liked to show himself and be affable, a Liberal of good lineage, who confided entirely in reform as not likely to make any serious difference in English habits of feeling, one of which undoubtedly is the liking to behold society well fenced and adorned with hereditary rank.


Hence he made Diplow a most agreeable house, extending his invitations to old Wanchester solicitors and young village curates, but also taking some care in the combination of the guests, and not feeding all the common poultry together, so that they should think their meal no particular compliment. Easy-going Lord Brackenshaw, for example, would not mind meeting Robinson the attorney, but Robinson would have been naturally piqued if he had been asked to meet a set of people who passed for his equals. On all these points Sir Hugo was well informed enough at once to gain popularity for himself and give pleasure to others--two results which eminently suited his disposition.

He extended invitations to old Wanchester solicitors and young village curates, taking such care in the combination of guests that he both gained popularity for himself and gave pleasure to others.


The rector of Pennicote now found a reception at Diplow very different from the haughty tolerance he had undergone during the reign of Grandcourt.

The rector of Pennicote now found a reception at Diplow very different from Grandcourt's haughtiness.


It was not that the baronet liked Mr. Gascoigne; it was that he desired to keep up a marked relation of friendliness with him on account of Mrs. Grandcourt, for whom Sir Hugo's chivalry had become more and more engaged. Why? The chief reason was one that he could not fully communicate, even to Lady Mallinger--for he would not tell what he thought one woman's secret to another, even though the other was his wife--which shows that his chivalry included a rare reticence.

Sir Hugo desired to keep up a marked friendliness with him on account of Mrs. Grandcourt, for whom he secretly thought Deronda had a preference.


Deronda, after he had become engaged to Mirah, felt it right to make a full statement of his position and purposes to Sir Hugo, and he chose to make it by letter.

But Deronda, after he became engaged to Mirah, wrote a full statement of his position and purposes to Sir Hugo.


He had more than a presentiment that his fatherly friend would feel some dissatisfaction, if not pain, at this turn of his destiny. In reading unwelcome news, instead of hearing it, there is the advantage that one avoids a hasty expression of impatience which may afterward be repented of.

He feared that his fatherly friend would feel some dissatisfaction, if not pain, at this turn of his destiny, and thought a letter would avoid any hasty response which might afterward be repented of.


Deronda dreaded that verbal collision which makes otherwise pardonable feeling lastingly offensive.


And Sir Hugo, though not altogether surprised, was thoroughly vexed.


His immediate resource was to take the letter to Lady Mallinger, who would be sure to express an astonishment which her husband could argue against as unreasonable, and in this way divide the stress of his discontent.


And in fact when she showed herself astonished and distressed that all Daniel's wonderful talents, and the comfort of having him in the house, should have ended in his going mad in this way about the Jews, the baronet could say,


depend upon it, Dan will not make a fool of himself.


He has large notions about Judaism--political views which you can't understand.


No fear but Dan will keep himself head uppermost."


But with regard to the prospective marriage she afforded him no counter-irritant.


The gentle lady observed, without rancor, that she had little dreamed of what was coming when she had Mirah to sing at her musical party and give lessons to Amabel.

He took the letter to Lady Mallinger, who professed herself astonished, observing without rancour that she had little dreamed of what was coming when she had Mirah to sing at her musical party.


After some hesitation, indeed, she confessed it _had_ passed through her mind that after a proper time Daniel might marry Mrs. Grandcourt--because it seemed so remarkable that he should be at Genoa just at that time--and although she herself was not fond of widows she could not help thinking that such a marriage would have been better than his going altogether with the Jews.

Indeed, she confessed it had passed through her mind that Daniel might marry Mrs. Grandcourt.


But Sir Hugo was so strongly of the same opinion that he could not correct it as a feminine mistake; and his ill-humor at the disproof of his disagreeable conclusions on behalf of Gwendolen was left without vent.


He desired Lady Mallinger not to breathe a word about the affair till further notice, saying to himself, "If it is an unkind cut to the poor thing (meaning Gwendolen), the longer she is without knowing it the better, in her present nervous state.

Sir Hugo desired his wife not to breathe a word about the affair till further notice, saying to himself, "If it is an unkind cut to poor Gwendolen, the longer she is without knowing it the better, in her present nervous state.


And she will best learn it from Dan himself."


Sir Hugo's conjectures had worked so industriously with his knowledge, that he fancied himself well informed concerning the whole situation.


Meanwhile his residence with his family at Diplow enabled him to continue his fatherly attentions to Gwendolen; and in these Lady Mallinger, notwithstanding her small liking for widows, was quite willing to second him.


The plan of removal to Offendene had been carried out; and Gwendolen, in settling there, maintained a calm beyond her mother's hopes.

The plan of removal to Offendene had been carried out; and Gwendolen maintained a calm beyond her mother's hopes.


She was experiencing some of that peaceful melancholy which comes from the renunciation of demands for self, and from taking the ordinary good of existence, and especially kindness, even from a dog, as a gift above expectation.

She was experiencing some of that peaceful melancholy which comes from taking the ordinary good of existence, and especially kindness, even from a dog, as a gift above expectation.


Does one who has been all but lost in a pit of darkness complain of the sweet air and the daylight?

Does one who has been lost in a pit of darkness complain of the sweet air and the daylight?


There is a way of looking at our life daily as an escape, and taking the quiet return of morn and evening--still more the star-like out-glowing of some pure fellow-feeling, some generous impulse breaking our inward darkness--as a salvation that reconciles us to hardship.

There is a way of looking at our daily life as an escape, and taking the quiet return of morn and evening as a salvation.


Those who have a self-knowledge prompting such self-accusation as Hamlet's, can understand this habitual feeling of rescue. And it was felt by Gwendolen as she lived through and through again the terrible history of her temptations, from their first form of illusory self-pleasing when she struggled away from the hold of conscience, to their latest form of an urgent hatred dragging her toward its satisfaction, while she prayed and cried for the help of that conscience which she had once forsaken.

This feeling of rescue came to Gwendolen as she lived through and through again the terrible history of her temptations, from her first illusory self-pleasing to her final hatred dragging her toward its satisfaction, while she prayed and cried for the help of that conscience which she had once forsaken.


She was now dwelling on every word of Deronda's that pointed to her past deliverance from the worst evil in herself, and the worst infliction of it on others, and on every word that carried a force to resist self-despair.

She was now dwelling on every word of Deronda's that pointed to her deliverance from the worst evil in herself, and on every word that carried a force to resist self-despair.


But she was also upborne by the prospect of soon seeing him again: she did not imagine him otherwise than always within her reach, her supreme need of him blinding her to the separateness of his life, the whole scene of which she filled with his relation to her--no unique preoccupation of Gwendolen's, for we are all apt to fall into this passionate egoism of imagination, not only toward our fellow-men, but toward God.

But she was also upborne by the prospect of soon seeing him again: she imagined him always within her reach, her supreme need of him blinding her to the separateness of his life, which she filled with his relation to her. We are all apt to fall into this passionate egoism, not only toward our fellow-men, but toward God.


And the future which she turned her face to with a willing step was one where she would be continually assimilating herself to some type that he would hold before her.

And she looked to a future where she would be guided by him.


Had he not first risen on her vision as a corrective presence which she had recognized in the beginning with resentment, and at last with entire love and trust?

Had she not seen him first as a corrective presence which she had recognized in the beginning with resentment, and at last with entire love and trust?


She could not spontaneously think of an end to that reliance, which had become to her imagination like the firmness of the earth, the only condition of her walking.

She could not imagine an end to that reliance.


And Deronda was not long before he came to Diplow, which was a more convenient distance from town than the Abbey.


He had wished to carry out a plan for taking Ezra and Mirah to a mild spot on the coast, while he prepared another home which Mirah might enter as his bride, and where they might unitedly watch over her brother.

He had wished to take Ezra and Mirah to a mild spot on the coast, while he prepared another home which Mirah might enter as his bride, and where they might watch over her brother.


But Ezra begged not to be removed, unless it were to go with them to the East. All outward solicitations were becoming more and more of a burden to him; but his mind dwelt on the possibility of this voyage with a visionary joy.

But Ezra begged not to be removed, unless it were to go with them to the East: his mind dwelt on the possibility of this voyage with a visionary joy.


Deronda, in his preparations for the marriage, which he hoped might not be deferred beyond a couple of months, wished to have fuller consultation as to his resources and affairs generally with Sir Hugo, and here was a reason for not delaying his visit to Diplow. But he thought quite as much of another reason--his promise to Gwendolen.

Deronda, in his preparations for the marriage, which he hoped not to defer beyond a couple of months, wished to consult Sir Hugo about his affairs. But he had another reason to visit Diplow - his promise to Gwendolen.


The sense of blessedness in his own lot had yet an aching anxiety at his heart: this may be held paradoxical, for the beloved lover is always called happy, and happiness is considered as a well-fleshed indifference to sorrow outside it. But human experience is usually paradoxical, if that means incongruous with the phrases of current talk or even current philosophy. It was no treason to Mirah, but a part of that full nature which made his love for her the more worthy, that his joy in her could hold by its side the care for another.

His sense of blessedness in his own lot had an aching anxiety at its heart: it was no treason to Mirah, but a part of that full nature which, along with his joy in her, could hold by its side the care for another.


For what is love itself, for the one we love best?--an enfolding of immeasurable cares which yet are better than any joys outside our love.


Deronda came twice to Diplow, and saw Gwendolen twice--and yet he went back to town without having told her anything about the change in his lot and prospects.

Deronda came twice to Diplow, and saw Gwendolen twice - and yet he went back to town without having told her anything about the change in his prospects.


He blamed himself; but in all momentous communication likely to give pain we feel dependent on some preparatory turn of words or associations, some agreement of the other's mood with the probable effect of what we have to impart. In the first interview Gwendolen was so absorbed in what she had to say to him, so full of questions which he must answer, about the arrangement of her life, what she could do to make herself less ignorant, how she could be kindest to everybody, and make amends for her selfishness and try to be rid of it, that Deronda utterly shrank from waiving her immediate wants in order to speak of himself, nay, from inflicting a wound on her in these moments when she was leaning on him for help in her path.

He blamed himself; but in the first interview Gwendolen was so absorbed in what she had to say to him, so full of questions which he must answer about the arrangement of her life, how she could make herself less ignorant and selfish, that Deronda shrank from brushing her wants aside in order to speak of himself, nay, from inflicting a wound on her when she was leaning on him for help.


In the second interview, when he went with new resolve to command the conversation into some preparatory track, he found her in a state of deep depression, overmastered by some distasteful miserable memories which forced themselves on her as something more real and ample than any new material out of which she could mould her future.

In the second interview, he found her in a state of deep depression, overmastered by miserable memories.


She cried hysterically, and said that he would always despise her.


He could only seek words of soothing and encouragement: and when she gradually revived under them, with that pathetic look of renewed childlike interest which we see in eyes where the lashes are still beaded with tears, it was impossible to lay another burden on her.

He could only seek words of soothing encouragement: and when she gradually revived under them, with a pathetic look of renewed childlike interest, it was impossible to lay another burden on her.


But time went on, and he felt it a pressing duty to make the difficult disclosure.

But he felt it a pressing duty to make the difficult disclosure.


Gwendolen, it was true, never recognized his having any affairs; and it had never even occurred to her to ask him why he happened to be at Genoa.


But this unconsciousness of hers would make a sudden revelation of affairs that were determining his course in life all the heavier blow to her; and if he left the revelation to be made by different persons, she would feel that he had treated her with cruel inconsiderateness.

But this unconsciousness would make a sudden revelation all the heavier a blow to her; and it would be cruel to let her hear of it from others.


He could not make the communication in writing: his tenderness could not bear to think of her reading his virtual farewell in solitude, and perhaps feeling his words full of a hard gladness for himself and indifference for her.

He could not tell her in writing: his tenderness could not bear to think of her reading his virtual farewell in solitude, and perhaps feeling him indifferent to her.


He went down to Diplow again, feeling that every other peril was to be incurred rather than that of returning and leaving her still in ignorance.
On this third visit Deronda found Hans Meyrick installed with his easel at Diplow, beginning his picture of the three daughters sitting on a bank, "in the Gainsborough style," and varying his work by rambling to Pennicote to sketch the village children and improve his acquaintance with the Gascoignes.

So he made a third visit. This time, he found Hans Meyrick installed with his easel at Diplow, beginning his picture of the three daughters "in the Gainsborough style," and varying his work by rambling to Pennicote to see the Gascoignes.


Hans appeared to have recovered his vivacity, but Deronda detected some feigning in it, as we detect the artificiality of a lady's bloom from its being a little too high-toned and steadily persistent (a "Fluctuating Rouge" not having yet appeared among the advertisements).

Hans appeared to have recovered his vivacity, but Deronda detected some artificiality in it.


Also with all his grateful friendship and admiration for Deronda, Hans could not help a certain irritation against him, such as extremely incautious, open natures are apt to feel when the breaking of a friend's reserve discloses a state of things not merely unsuspected but the reverse of what had been hoped and ingeniously conjectured.

With all his admiration for Deronda, Hans could not help a certain irritation against him, for keeping the true state of his feelings hidden.


It is true that poor Hans had always cared chiefly to confide in Deronda, and had been quite incurious as to any confidence that might have been given in return; but what outpourer of his own affairs is not tempted to think any hint of his friend's affairs is an egotistic irrelevance? That was no reason why it was not rather a sore reflection to Hans that while he had been all along naively opening his heart about Mirah, Deronda had kept secret a feeling of rivalry which now revealed itself as the important determining fact. Moreover, it is always at their peril that our friends turn out to be something more than we were aware of. Hans must be excused for these promptings of bruised sensibility, since he had not allowed them to govern his substantial conduct: he had the consciousness of having done right by his fortunate friend; or, as he told himself, "his metal had given a better ring than he would have sworn to beforehand."

It is true that poor Hans had confided in Deronda without any curiosity as to confidences that might have been given in return; but he must be excused for his bruised sensibility, since he had the consciousness of having done right by his fortunate friend.


For Hans had always said that in point of virtue he was a _dilettante_: which meant that he was very fond of it in other people, but if he meddled with it himself he cut a poor figure.


Perhaps in reward of his good behavior he gave his tongue the more freedom; and he was too fully possessed by the notion of Deronda's happiness to have a conception of what he was feeling about Gwendolen, so that he spoke of her without hesitation.

Perhaps in reward of his good behaviour he gave his tongue more freedom; and he was too convinced of Deronda's happiness to have any idea of what he was feeling about Gwendolen, so that he spoke of her without hesitation.


said Deronda, joining him in the grounds where he was making a study of the requisite bank and trees.

said Deronda, joining him in the grounds where he was sketching.


"Oh, ten days ago; before the time Sir Hugo fixed. I ran down with Rex Gascoigne and stayed at the rectory a day or two.

"Oh, ten days ago; I ran down with Rex Gascoigne and stayed at the rectory a day or two.


I'm up in all the gossip of these parts; I know the state of the wheelwright's interior, and have assisted at an infant school examination. Sister Anna, with the good upper lip, escorted me, else I should have been mobbed by three urchins and an idiot, because of my long hair and a general appearance which departs from the Pennicote type of the beautiful.

I'm up in all the gossip of these parts, and have assisted at an infant school to which sister Anna escorted me.


Altogether, the village is idyllic. Its only fault is a dark curate with broad shoulders and broad trousers who ought to have gone into the heavy drapery line. The Gascoignes are perfect--besides being related to the Vandyke duchess.

The village is idyllic, and the Gascoignes are perfect - besides being related to the Vandyke duchess.


I caught a glimpse of her in her black robes at a distance, though she doesn't show to visitors."
"She was not staying at the rectory?" said Deronda.
"No; but I was taken to Offendene to see the old house, and as a consequence I saw the duchess' family.

I caught a glimpse of her in her black robes at a distance when I was taken to Offendene to see the old house.


I suppose you have been there and know all about them?"


"Yes, I have been there," said Deronda, quietly.


An excellent setting for a widow with romantic fortunes.


And she seems to have had several romances.


I think I have found out that there was one between her and my friend Rex."

I think there was one between her and my friend Rex."


said Deronda, really interested, "for they had only been a year at Offendene.


"Oh--not ignorant of what it is to be a miserable devil, I learn to gloat on the signs of misery in others.


I found out that Rex never goes to Offendene, and has never seen the duchess since she came back; and Miss Gascoigne let fall something in our talk about charade-acting--for I went through some of my nonsense to please the young ones--something that proved to me that Rex was once hovering about his fair cousin close enough to get singed.

"Oh - I found out that Rex never goes to Offendene, and has never seen the duchess since she came back; and Anna let slip something that proved to me that Rex was once hovering about his fair cousin close enough to get singed.


I don't know what was her part in the affair.


Perhaps the duke came in and carried her off.


That is always the way when an exceptionally worthy young man forms an attachment.


I understand now why Gascoigne talks of making the law his mistress and remaining a bachelor.


Since the duke did not get himself drowned for your sake, it may turn out to be for my friend Rex's sake.

But since the duke did not get himself drowned for your sake, it may turn out to be for my friend Rex's.


"Is it absolutely necessary that Mrs. Grandcourt should marry again?"


said Deronda, ready to add that Hans's success in constructing her fortunes hitherto had not been enough to warrant a new attempt.


retorted Hans, "do you want her to wear weeds for _you_ all her life--burn herself in perpetual suttee while you are alive and merry?"

retorted Hans, "do you want her to wear mourning clothes for you all her life?"


Deronda could say nothing, but he looked so much annoyed that Hans turned the current of his chat, and when he was alone shrugged his shoulders a little over the thought that there really had been some stronger feeling between Deronda and the duchess than Mirah would like to know of.

Deronda could say nothing, but he looked so annoyed that Hans changed the subject.


No woman ever wanted to discuss theology with me."


No wonder that Deronda winced under that sort of joking with a whip-lash.


It touched sensibilities that were already quivering with the anticipation of witnessing some of that pain to which even Hans's light words seemed to give more reality:--any sort of recognition by another giving emphasis to the subject of our anxiety.

The joke touched sensibilities that were already quivering with the anticipation of witnessing Gwendolen's pain.


And now he had come down with the firm resolve that he would not again evade the trial. The next day he rode to Offendene.

But he had come with the firm resolve that he would not again evade the trial, and the next day he rode to Offendene.


He had sent word that he intended to call and to ask if Gwendolen could receive him; and he found her awaiting him in the old drawing-room where some chief crises of her life had happened.

He found Gwendolen awaiting him in the drawing-room.


She seemed less sad than he had seen her since her husband's death; there was no smile on her face, but a placid self-possession, in contrast with the mood in which he had last found her.


She was all the more alive to the sadness perceptible in Deronda; and they were no sooner seated--he at a little distance opposite to her--than she said:

She noticed Deronda's sadness; and they were no sooner seated than she said:


"You were afraid of coming to see me, because I was so full of grief and despair the last time.

"You were afraid of coming to see me, because I was so full of despair last time.


But I am not so today. I have been sorry ever since.


I have been making it a reason why I should keep up my hope and be as cheerful as I can, because I would not give you any pain about me."

I have been making it a reason why I should be as cheerful as I can, because I would not give you any pain about me."


There was an unwonted sweetness in Gwendolen's tone and look as she uttered these words that seemed to Deronda to infuse the utmost cruelty into the task now laid upon him.

There was an unusual sweetness in Gwendolen's tone that seemed to Deronda to infuse the utmost cruelty into his task.


But he felt obliged to make his answer a beginning of the task.


"I _am_ in some trouble to-day," he said, looking at her rather mournfully; "but it is because I have things to tell you which you will almost think it a want of confidence on my part not to have spoken of before.

"I am in some trouble to-day," he said, looking at her rather mournfully; "because I have things to tell you which you will think I should have spoken of before.


They are things affecting my own life--my own future.

They are things affecting my own future.


I shall seem to have made an ill return to you for the trust you have placed in me--never to have given you an idea of events that make great changes for me.

I shall seem to have made an ill return to you for the trust you have placed in me - never to have given you an idea of events that make great changes for me.


But when we have been together we have hardly had time to enter into subjects which at the moment were really less pressing to me than the trials you have been going through."

But when we have been together we have hardly had time to enter into less pressing subjects than the trials you were going through."


There was a sort of timid tenderness in Deronda's deep tones, and he paused with a pleading look, as if it had been Gwendolen only who had conferred anything in her scenes of beseeching and confession.

There was a sort of timid, pleading tenderness in Deronda's deep tones.


A thrill of surprise was visible in her. Such meaning as she found in his words had shaken her, but without causing fear.

A thrill of surprise was visible in Gwendolen, but she did not feel any fear.


Her mind had flown at once to some change in his position with regard to Sir Hugo and Sir Hugo's property.

Her mind flew at once of some change in his position with regard to Sir Hugo and Sir Hugo's property.


She said, with a sense of comfort from Deronda's way of asking her pardon,


"You never thought of anything but what you could do to help me; and I was so troublesome.

"You never thought of anything but what you could do to help me."


"It will perhaps astonish you," said Deronda, "that I have only quite lately known who were my parents."


Gwendolen was not astonished: she felt the more assured that her expectations of what was coming were right.

Gwendolen was not astonished: she felt the more assured that her expectations were right.


"The reason why you found me in Italy was that I had gone there to learn that--in fact, to meet my mother.


It was by her wish that I was brought up in ignorance of my parentage.


She parted with me after my father's death, when I was a little creature.

She parted with me after my father's death, when I was a baby.


But she is now very ill, and she felt that the secrecy ought not to be any longer maintained.


Her chief reason had been that she did not wish me to know I was a Jew."

Her chief reason for it had been that she did not wish me to know I was a Jew."


Gwendolen exclaimed, in a low tone of amazement, with an utterly frustrated look, as if some confusing potion were creeping through her system.


Deronda colored, and did not speak, while Gwendolen, with her eyes fixed on the floor, was struggling to find her way in the dark by the aid of various reminiscences.

Deronda coloured, and did not speak, while Gwendolen, with her eyes fixed on the floor, was struggling to find her answer.


She seemed at last to have arrived at some judgment, for she looked up at Deronda again and said, as if remonstrating against the mother's conduct,


"It has made a great difference to me that I have known it," said Deronda, emphatically; but he could not go on easily--the distance between her ideas and his acted like a difference of native language, making him uncertain what force his words would carry.

"It has made a great difference to me that I have known it," said Deronda, emphatically, but uncertain what force his words would carry.


Gwendolen meditated again, and then said feelingly, "I hope there is nothing to make you mind.


_You_ are just the same as if you were not a Jew."

You are just the same as if you were not a Jew."


She meant to assure him that nothing of that external sort could affect the way in which she regarded him, or the way in which he could influence her.

She meant to reassure him that nothing of that external sort could affect the way in which she regarded him.


Deronda was a little helped by this misunderstanding.


"The discovery was far from being painful to me," he said, "I had been gradually prepared for it, and I was glad of it.

"The discovery was far from being painful to me," he said. "I was glad of it.


I had been prepared for it by becoming intimate with a very remarkable Jew, whose ideas have attracted me so much that I think of devoting the best part of my life to some effort at giving them effect."

I had been prepared for it by becoming intimate with a very remarkable Jew, whose ideas have attracted me so much that I think of devoting my life to them."


Again Gwendolen seemed shaken--again there was a look of frustration, but this time it was mingled with alarm.

Again Gwendolen seemed shaken - this time frustration was mingled with alarm.


She looked at Deronda with lips childishly parted.


It was not that she had yet connected his words with Mirah and her brother, but that they had inspired her with a dreadful presentiment of mountainous travel for her mind before it could reach Deronda's.

She had a dreadful foreboding of mountainous travel for her mind before it could reach Deronda's.


Great ideas in general which she had attributed to him seemed to make no great practical difference, and were not formidable in the same way as these mysteriously-shadowed particular ideas.


He could not quite divine what was going on within her; he could only seek the least abrupt path of disclosure.


"That is an object," he said, after a moment, "which will by-and-by force me to leave England for some time--for some years.

"That is an object," he said, "which will by-and-by force me to leave England for some time - for some years.


I have purposes which will take me to the East."


Here was something clearer, but all the more immediately agitating.


she said, tasting her own tears as they fell, before she thought of drying them.

she said, tasting her own tears as they fell.


He rose, and went to prop himself against the corner of the mantel-piece, at a different angle from her face.


But when she had pressed her handkerchief against her cheeks, she turned and looked up at him, awaiting an answer.


"If I live," said Deronda--"_some time_."


He could not persuade himself to say more unless she led up to it by a question; and she was apparently meditating something that she had to say.


"Can I understand the ideas, or am I too ignorant?"


"I am going to the East to become better acquainted with the condition of my race in various countries there," said Deronda, gently--anxious to be as explanatory as he could on what was the impersonal part of their separateness from each other.

"I am going to the East to become better acquainted with the condition of my race in various countries there," said Deronda, gently, and anxious to expand on impersonal reasons.


"The idea that I am possessed with is that of restoring a political existence to my people, making them a nation again, giving them a national center, such as the English have, though they too are scattered over the face of the globe.

"The idea that I am possessed with is that of restoring a political existence to my people, making them a nation again, giving them a national centre, though they are scattered over the face of the globe.


That is a task which presents itself to me as a duty; I am resolved to begin it, however feebly. I am resolved to devote my life to it.

I am resolved to devote my life to that task."


At the least, I may awaken a movement in other minds, such as has been awakened in my own."


The world seemed getting larger round poor Gwendolen, and she more solitary and helpless in the midst.


The thought that he might come back after going to the East, sank before the bewildering vision of these wild-stretching purposes in which she felt herself reduced to a mere speck.

Before the bewildering vision of these wild-stretching purposes, she felt herself reduced to a mere speck.


There comes a terrible moment to many souls when the great movements of the world, the larger destinies of mankind, which have lain aloof in newspapers and other neglected reading, enter like an earthquake into their own lives--where the slow urgency of growing generations turns into the tread of an invading army or the dire clash of civil war, and gray fathers know nothing to seek for but the corpses of their blooming sons, and girls forget all vanity to make lint and bandages which may serve for the shattered limbs of their betrothed husbands.

There comes a terrible moment to many souls when the great movements of the world, the larger destinies of mankind, which have lain neglected in newspapers, enter like an earthquake into their own lives.


Then it is as if the Invisible Power that had been the object of lip-worship and lip-resignation became visible, according to the imagery of the Hebrew poet, making the flames his chariot, and riding on the wings of the wind, till the mountains smoke and the plains shudder under the rolling fiery visitations.


Often the good cause seems to lie prostrate under the thunder of unrelenting force, the martyrs live reviled, they die, and no angel is seen holding forth the crown and the palm branch.


Then it is that the submission of the soul to the Highest is tested, and even in the eyes of frivolity life looks out from the scene of human struggle with the awful face of duty, and a religion shows itself which is something else than a private consolation.


That was the sort of crisis which was at this moment beginning in Gwendolen's small life: she was for the first time feeling the pressure of a vast mysterious movement, for the first time being dislodged from her supremacy in her own world, and getting a sense that her horizon was but a dipping onward of an existence with which her own was revolving.


All the troubles of her wifehood and widowhood had still left her with the implicit impression which had accompanied her from childhood, that whatever surrounded her was somehow specially for her, and it was because of this that no personal jealousy had been roused in her relation to Deronda: she could not spontaneously think of him as rightfully belonging to others more than to her.

All her troubles had still left her with the impression that whatever surrounded her was somehow specially for her, and it was because of this that no jealousy had been roused in her relation to Deronda: she could not think of him as rightfully belonging to others more than to her.


But here had come a shock which went deeper than personal jealousy--something spiritual and vaguely tremendous that thrust her away, and yet quelled all her anger into self-humiliation.

But here had come a shock which went deeper than personal jealousy - something spiritual and tremendous that thrust her away, and yet quelled her into self-humiliation.


Deronda had stood still, even thankful for an interval before he needed to say more, and Gwendolen had sat like a statue with her wrists lying over each other and her eyes fixed--the intensity of her mental action arresting all other excitation.

Gwendolen sat like a statue in the intensity of her thought.


At length something occurred to her that made her turn her face to Deronda and say in a trembling voice,

At length something occurred to her that made her turn to Deronda and say in a trembling voice-


"The Jew whom I mentioned just now," he answered, not without a certain tremor in his tones too, "the remarkable man who has greatly influenced my mind, has not perhaps been totally unheard of by you. He is the brother of Miss Lapidoth, whom you have often heard sing."

"The Jew whom I mentioned just now," he answered, with a tremor in his tones too, "is the brother of Miss Lapidoth, whom you have often heard sing."


A great wave of remembrance passed through Gwendolen and spread as a deep, painful flush over neck and face.


It had come first at the scene of that morning when she had called on Mirah, and heard Deronda's voice reading, and been told, without then heeding it, that he was reading Hebrew with Mirah's brother.

She recalled that morning when she had called on Mirah, and heard Deronda's voice reading, and had been told that he was reading Hebrew with Mirah's brother.


"He is very ill--very near death now," Deronda went on, nervously, and then stopped short.

"He is very ill - very near death," Deronda went on nervously, and then stopped short.


said Gwendolen, abruptly, looking up at him.


She turned away her eyes again, and sat thinking. Slowly the color dried out of face and neck, and she was as pale as before--with that almost withered paleness which is seen after a painful flush. At last she said--without turning toward him--in a low, measured voice, as if she were only thinking aloud in preparation for future speech,

She turned away her eyes again, and sat thinking, until at last she said-


"Yes," said Deronda, also in a low voice.


At first there was no change in Gwendolen's attitude: she only began to tremble visibly; then she looked before her with dilated eyes, as at something lying in front of her, till she stretched her arms out straight, and cried with a smothered voice,

Gwendolen began to tremble visibly; then she looked before her with dilated eyes, stretched out her arms, and cried with a smothered voice-


He seized her outstretched hands and held them together, and kneeled at her feet.

He seized her outstretched hands, and kneeled at her feet.


"I am cruel, too, I am cruel," he repeated, with a sort of groan, looking up at her imploringly.

"I am cruel, too, I am cruel," he repeated, with a sort of groan.


His presence and touch seemed to dispel a horrible vision, and she met his upward look of sorrow with something like the return of consciousness after fainting.

His presence and touch seemed to dispel a horrible vision, and she felt something like the return of consciousness after fainting.


Then she dwelt on it with that growing pathetic movement of the brow which accompanies the revival of some tender recollection. The look of sorrow brought back what seemed a very far-off moment--the first time she had ever seen it, in the library at the Abbey.

She dwelt on his face with tender recollection: his look of sorrow brought back a very far-off moment in the library, at the Abbey.


Deronda would not let her hands go--held them still with one of his, and himself pressed her handkerchief against her eyes.

Deronda held her hands still with one of his, and himself pressed her handkerchief against her eyes.


She submitted like a half-soothed child, making an effort to speak, which was hindered by struggling sobs.

She submitted like a half-soothed child, her effort to speak hindered by struggling sobs.


At last she succeeded in saying, brokenly,


"I said--I said--it should be better--better with me--for having known you."

"I said - it should be better - better with me - for having known you."


She wrested one of her hands from his, and returned his action, pressing his tears away.

She pulled one of her hands from his, and returned his action, pressing his tears away.


"We shall not be quite parted," he said.


"I will write to you always, when I can, and you will answer?"


He waited till she said in a whisper, "I will try."


"I shall be more with you than I used to be," Deronda said with gentle urgency, releasing her hands and rising from his kneeling posture.

"I shall be more with you than I used to be," Deronda said, releasing her hands and rising from his knees.


"If we had been much together before, we should have felt our differences more, and seemed to get farther apart.


Now we can perhaps never see each other again.

"Perhaps we can never see each other again.


Gwendolen said nothing, but rose too, automatically.


Her withered look of grief, such as the sun often shines on when the blinds are drawn up after the burial of life's joy, made him hate his own words: they seemed to have the hardness of easy consolation in them.

Her withered look of grief made him hate his own words: they seemed to have the hardness of easy consolation in them.


She felt that he was going, and that nothing could hinder it.


The sense of it was like a dreadful whisper in her ear, which dulled all other consciousness; and she had not known that she was rising.

The sense of it was like a dreadful whisper in her ear.


Deronda could not speak again. He thought that they must part in silence, but it was difficult to move toward the parting, till she looked at him with a sort of intention in her eyes, which helped him.

Deronda could not speak again: yet it was difficult to move toward the parting, till she looked at him with a sort of intention in her eyes, which helped him.


He advanced to put out his hand silently, and when she had placed hers within it, she said what her mind had been laboring with,

He put out his hand silently, and when she had placed hers within it, she said what her mind had been labouring with-


She could not finish. It was not that she was sobbing, but that the intense effort with which she spoke made her too tremulous.

She could not finish for the intense effort of speaking.


The burden of that difficult rectitude toward him was a weight her frame tottered under.

The burden of that difficult rectitude was a weight her frame tottered under.


She bent forward to kiss his cheek, and he kissed hers.


Then they looked at each other for an instant with clasped hands, and he turned away.


When he was quite gone, her mother came in and found her sitting motionless.


"Gwendolen, dearest, you look very ill," she said, bending over her and touching her cold hands.

"Gwendolen, dearest, you look very ill," she said, touching her cold hands.


I am going to live," said Gwendolen, bursting out hysterically.


Her mother persuaded her to go to bed, and watched by her.


Through the day and half the night she fell continually into fits of shrieking, but cried in the midst of them to her mother, "Don't be afraid.

Through the day and half the night she fell into fits of shrieking, but cried in the midst of them to her mother, "Don't be afraid.


After all, she slept; and when she waked in the morning light, she looked up fixedly at her mother and said tenderly, "Ah, poor mamma!

After all, she slept; and when she waked, she looked up at her mother and said tenderly, "Ah, poor mamma!


In the checkered area of human experience the seasons are all mingled as in the golden age: fruit and blossom hang together; in the same moment the sickle is reaping and the seed is sprinkled; one tends the green cluster and another treads the winepress.


Nay, in each of our lives harvest and spring-time are continually one, until himself gathers us and sows us anew in his invisible fields.


Among the blessings of love there is hardly one more exquisite than the sense that in uniting the beloved life to ours we can watch over its happiness, bring comfort where hardship was, and over memories of privation and suffering open the sweetest fountains of joy.

Among the blessings of love there is hardly one more exquisite than the sense that we can bring comfort where hardship was, and over memories of suffering open the sweetest fountains of joy.


Deronda's love for Mirah was strongly imbued with that blessed protectiveness.


Even with infantine feet she had begun to tread among thorns; and the first time he had beheld her face it had seemed to him the girlish image of despair.

Since infancy she had trod among thorns; and the first time he had beheld her face it had seemed the image of despair.


But now she was glowing like a dark-tipped yet delicate ivory-tinted flower in the warm sunlight of content, thinking of any possible grief as part of that life with Deronda, which she could call by no other name than good.

But now she was glowing like a dark-tipped delicate flower in the sunlight of content, thinking of any possible grief as part of her life with Deronda.


And he watched the sober gladness which gave new beauty to her movements; and her habitual attitudes of repose, with a delight which made him say to himself that it was enough of personal joy for him to save her from pain.

He watched the sober gladness which gave new beauty to her movements, with a delight which made him say to himself that it was enough of personal joy for him to save her from pain.


She knew nothing of Hans's struggle or of Gwendolen's pang; for after the assurance that Deronda's hidden love had been for her, she easily explained Gwendolen's eager solicitude about him as part of a grateful dependence on his goodness, such as she herself had known.

She knew nothing of Hans's struggle or of Gwendolen's pang; for after the assurance that Deronda's hidden love had been for her, she easily explained Gwendolen's interest in him as part of a grateful dependence on his goodness, such as she herself had known.


And all Deronda's words about Mrs. Grandcourt confirmed that view of their relation, though he never touched on it except in the most distant manner.

All Deronda's words about Mrs. Grandcourt confirmed that view, though he never touched on it except in the most distant manner.


Mirah was ready to believe that he had been a rescuing angel to many besides herself.


The only wonder was, that she among them all was to have the bliss of being continually by his side.


So, when the bridal veil was around Mirah it hid no doubtful tremors--only a thrill of awe at the acceptance of a great gift which required great uses.

So, when the bridal veil was around Mirah it hid no doubtful tremors - only a thrill of awe at the acceptance of a great gift.


And the velvet canopy never covered a more goodly bride and bridegroom, to whom their people might more wisely wish offspring; more truthful lips never touched the sacrament marriage-wine; the marriage-blessing never gathered stronger promise of fulfillment than in the integrity of their mutual pledge.

And the velvet canopy never covered a more goodly bride and bridegroom; more truthful lips never touched the sacramental marriage-wine; the marriage-blessing never held a stronger promise of fulfilment than in the integrity of their mutual pledge.


Naturally, they were married according to the Jewish rite.


And since no religion seems yet to have demanded that when we make a feast we should invite only the highest rank of our acquaintances, few, it is to be hoped, will be offended to learn that among the guests at Deronda's little wedding-feast was the entire Cohen family, with the one exception of the baby who carried on her teething intelligently at home. How could Mordecai have borne that those friends of his adversity should have been shut out from rejoicing in common with him?

Among the guests at Deronda's little wedding-feast was the entire Cohen family; for how could Mordecai have borne that those friends of his adversity should be shut out from rejoicing with him?


Mrs. Meyrick so fully understood this that she had quite reconciled herself to meeting the Jewish pawnbroker, and was there with her three daughters--all of them enjoying the consciousness that Mirah's marriage to Deronda crowned a romance which would always make a sweet memory to them.

Mrs. Meyrick had quite reconciled herself to meeting the Jewish pawnbroker, and was there with her three daughters - all enjoying the consciousness that Mirah's marriage to Deronda crowned a romance which would always make a sweet memory to them.


For which of them, mother or girls, had not had a generous part in it--giving their best in feeling and in act to her who needed?

For which of them, mother or girls, had not had a generous part in it?


If Hans could have been there, it would have been better; but Mab had already observed that men must suffer for being so inconvenient; suppose she, Kate, and Amy had all fallen in love with Mr. Deronda?--but being women they were not so ridiculous.

If Hans could have been there, it would have been better; but Mab observed that men must suffer for being so inconvenient; suppose she, Kate, and Amy had all fallen in love with Mr. Deronda?- but being women they were not so ridiculous.


The Meyricks were rewarded for conquering their prejudices by hearing a speech from Mr. Cohen, which had the rare quality among speeches of not being quite after the usual pattern. Jacob ate beyond his years, and contributed several small whinnying laughs as a free accompaniment of his father's speech, not irreverently, but from a lively sense that his family was distinguishing itself; while Adelaide Rebekah, in a new Sabbath frock, maintained throughout a grave air of responsibility.

Mr. Cohen gave a speech; Jacob ate beyond his years; while Adelaide Rebekah, in a new Sabbath frock, maintained throughout a grave air of responsibility.


Mordecai's brilliant eyes, sunken in their large sockets, dwelt on the scene with the cherishing benignancy of a spirit already lifted into an aloofness which nullified only selfish requirements and left sympathy alive.

Mordecai's brilliant eyes, sunken in their large sockets, dwelt on the scene with the benignancy of a spirit already lifted into an aloofness which nullified selfish needs and left sympathy alive.


But continually, after his gaze had been traveling round on the others, it returned to dwell on Deronda with a fresh gleam of trusting affection.

But his gaze always returned to dwell on Deronda with a fresh gleam of trusting affection.


The wedding-feast was humble, but Mirah was not without splendid wedding-gifts.


As soon as the betrothal had been known, there were friends who had entertained graceful devices.