Gwendolen's imagination dwelt on this course and created agreeable consequences, but not with unbroken confidence and rising certainty as it would have done if she had been touched with the gambler's mania.

Gwendolen imagined following this course and its agreeable consequences, but not with the unbroken confidence of a committed gambler.


She had gone to the roulette-table not because of passion, but in search of it: her mind was still sanely capable of picturing balanced probabilities, and while the chance of winning allured her, the chance of losing thrust itself on her with alternate strength and made a vision from which her pride sank sensitively.

She had gone to the roulette-table not because of passion, but in search of it: and while the chance of winning allured her, the chance of losing made a vision from which her pride shrank.


For she was resolved not to tell the Langens that any misfortune had befallen her family, or to make herself in any way indebted to their compassion; and if she were to part with her jewelry to any observable extent, they would interfere by inquiries and remonstrances.

For she was resolved not to tell the Langens that any misfortune had befallen her family, or to make herself in any way indebted to their compassion; and if they were to see her part with her jewellery, they would interfere.


The course that held the least risk of intolerable annoyance was to raise money on her necklace early in the morning, tell the Langens that her mother desired her immediate return without giving a reason, and take the train for Brussels that evening.

The least risky course was to sell her necklace early in the morning, tell the Langens that her mother desired her immediate return without giving a reason, and take the train for Brussels that evening.


She had no maid with her, and the Langens might make difficulties about her returning home, but her will was peremptory.


Instead of going to bed she made as brilliant a light as she could and began to pack, working diligently, though all the while visited by the scenes that might take place on the coming day--now by the tiresome explanations and farewells, and the whirling journey toward a changed home, now by the alternative of staying just another day and standing again at the roulette-table.

Instead of going to bed she began to pack, all the while foreseeing the events of the coming day - the tiresome explanations and farewells, and the whirling journey toward a changed home; or the alternative of staying just another day and standing again at the roulette-table.


But always in this latter scene there was the presence of that Deronda, watching her with exasperating irony, and--the two keen experiences were inevitably revived together--beholding her again forsaken by luck.

But always in this latter scene there was the presence of Deronda, watching her with exasperating irony, and seeing her again forsaken by luck.


This importunate image certainly helped to sway her resolve on the side of immediate departure, and to urge her packing to the point which would make a change of mind inconvenient.


It had struck twelve when she came into her room, and by the time she was assuring herself that she had left out only what was necessary, the faint dawn was stealing through the white blinds and dulling her candles.

By the time she finishing packing, the faint dawn was stealing through the blinds.


Her cold bath was refreshment enough, and she saw that a slight trace of fatigue about the eyes only made her look the more interesting.

A slight trace of fatigue about the eyes only made her look more interesting.


Before six o'clock she was completely equipped in her gray traveling dress even to her felt hat, for she meant to walk out as soon as she could count on seeing other ladies on their way to the springs.

Before six o'clock she was equipped in her grey travelling dress, for she meant to walk out as soon as other ladies would be on their way to the springs.


And happening to be seated sideways before the long strip of mirror between her two windows she turned to look at herself, leaning her elbow on the back of the chair in an attitude that might have been chosen for her portrait.

Seated before the mirror, she turned to look at herself, leaning on the back of the chair in an attitude that might have been chosen for her portrait.


It is possible to have a strong self-love without any self-satisfaction, rather with a self-discontent which is the more intense because one's own little core of egoistic sensibility is a supreme care; but Gwendolen knew nothing of such inward strife.


She had a _nave_ delight in her fortunate self, which any but the harshest saintliness will have some indulgence for in a girl who had every day seen a pleasant reflection of that self in her friends' flattery as well as in the looking-glass.

She had a nave delight in herself, which may be forgiven in a girl who had every day seen a pleasant reflection of that self in her friends' flattery as well as in the looking-glass.


And even in this beginning of troubles, while for lack of anything else to do she sat gazing at her image in the growing light, her face gathered a complacency gradual as the cheerfulness of the morning.

And even in this beginning of troubles, while she sat gazing at her image in the growing light, her face gathered a gradual complacency.


Her beautiful lips curled into a more and more decided smile, till at last she took off her hat, leaned forward and kissed the cold glass which had looked so warm.

Her beautiful lips curled into a more and more decided smile, till at last she took off her hat, leaned forward and kissed the cold glass.


If it attacked her, she felt the force to crush it, to defy it, or run away from it, as she had done already.


Anything seemed more possible than that she could go on bearing miseries, great or small.

Anything seemed more possible than that she could go on bearing miseries.


Madame von Langen never went out before breakfast, so that Gwendolen could safely end her early walk by taking her way homeward through the Obere Strasse in which was the needed shop, sure to be open after seven.

Madame von Langen never went out before breakfast, so Gwendolen could safely walk up to the shop she needed, which was sure to be open after seven.


At that hour any observers whom she minded would be either on their walks in the region of the springs, or would be still in their bedrooms; but certainly there was one grand hotel, the _Czarina_ from which eyes might follow her up to Mr. Wiener's door.

At that hour any observers would be either on their walks towards the springs, or still in their bedrooms; but certainly there was one grand hotel, the Czarina, from which eyes might follow her up to Mr. Wiener's shop.


This was a chance to be risked: might she not be going in to buy something which had struck her fancy?


This implicit falsehood passed through her mind as she remembered that the _Czarina_ was Deronda's hotel; but she was then already far up the Obere Strasse, and she walked on with her usual floating movement, every line in her figure and drapery falling in gentle curves attractive to all eyes except those which discerned in them too close a resemblance to the serpent, and objected to the revival of serpent-worship.

This was a risk: she remembered that the Czarina was Deronda's hotel; but she was already far up the road, and walked on with her usual floating movement, every line in her figure and drapery falling in gentle curves attractive to all eyes except those which saw in them too close a resemblance to the serpent.


She looked neither to the right hand nor to the left, and transacted her business in the shop with a coolness which gave little Mr. Wiener nothing to remark except her proud grace of manner, and the superior size and quality of the three central turquoises in the necklace she offered him.

She looked neither to right nor left on the way, and transacted her business in the shop with a coolness which gave little Mr. Weiner nothing to remark except her proud grace of manner, and the superior quality of the three central turquoises in the necklace she offered him.


They had belonged to a chain once her father's: but she had never known her father; and the necklace was in all respects the ornament she could most conveniently part with.

They had belonged to a chain once her father's: but she had never known her father; and the necklace was the ornament she could most conveniently part with.


Who supposes that it is an impossible contradiction to be superstitious and rationalizing at the same time?


Roulette encourages a romantic superstition as to the chances of the game, and the most prosaic rationalism as to human sentiments which stand in the way of raising needful money.


Gwendolen's dominant regret was that after all she had only nine louis to add to the four in her purse: these Jew dealers were so unscrupulous in taking advantage of Christians unfortunate at play!

Gwendolen's chief regret was that she added only nine louis to the four in her purse: these Jew dealers were so unscrupulous in taking advantage of Christians unfortunate at play!


But she was the Langens' guest in their hired apartment, and had nothing to pay there: thirteen louis would do more than take her home; even if she determined on risking three, the remaining ten would more than suffice, since she meant to travel right on, day and night.

But she was the Langens' guest in their apartment, and had nothing to pay there. Thirteen louis would do more than take her home; even if she decided to risk three, the remaining ten would suffice.


As she turned homeward, nay, entered and seated herself in the _salon_ to await her friends and breakfast, she still wavered as to her immediate departure, or rather she had concluded to tell the Langens simply that she had had a letter from her mamma desiring her return, and to leave it still undecided when she should start.

As she turned homeward and seated herself in the salon to await her friends and breakfast, she still wavered as to her immediate departure. She had resolved to tell the Langens simply that she had had a letter from her mamma desiring her return, and to leave it undecided when she should start.


It was already the usual breakfast-time, and hearing some one enter as she was leaning back rather tired and hungry with her eyes shut, she rose expecting to see one or other of the Langens--the words which might determine her lingering at least another day, ready-formed to pass her lips.

By now rather tired and hungry, she was leaning back when she heard some one enter. She rose expecting to see one of the Langens


But it was the servant bringing in a small packet for Miss Harleth, which had at that moment been left at the door.

; but it was the servant bringing in a small packet for Miss Harleth, which had just been left at the door.


Gwendolen took it in her hand and immediately hurried into her own room.

Gwendolen took it and immediately hurried to her room


She looked paler and more agitated than when she had first read her mamma's letter.

, paler and more agitated than when she had first read her mamma's letter.


Something--she never quite knew what--revealed to her before she opened the packet that it contained the necklace she had just parted with.

Something - she never quite knew what - revealed to her before she opened the packet that it contained the necklace she had just parted with.


Underneath the paper it was wrapped in a cambric handkerchief, and within this was a scrap of torn-off note-paper, on which was written with a pencil, in clear but rapid handwriting--"_A stranger who has found Miss Harleth's necklace returns it to her with the hope that she will not again risk the loss of it._"

It was wrapped in a handkerchief, and with it was a scrap of note-paper, on which was written, in clear but rapid handwriting- "A stranger who has found Miss Harleth's necklace returns it to her with the hope that she will not again risk the loss of it."


Gwendolen reddened with the vexation of wounded pride.


A large corner of the handkerchief seemed to have been recklessly torn off to get rid of a mark; but she at once believed in the first image of "the stranger" that presented itself to her mind.

A large corner of the handkerchief seemed to have been torn off to get rid of an owner's mark; but she at once believed in the first image of "the stranger" that presented itself to her mind.


It was Deronda; he must have seen her go into the shop; he must have gone in immediately after and repurchased the necklace.


He had taken an unpardonable liberty, and had dared to place her in a thoroughly hateful position.

He had taken an unpardonable liberty, and had placed her in a hateful position.


What could she do?--Not, assuredly, act on her conviction that it was he who had sent her the necklace and straightway send it back to him: that would be to face the possibility that she had been mistaken; nay, even if the "stranger" were he and no other, it would be something too gross for her to let him know that she had divined this, and to meet him again with that recognition in their minds.

What could she do? - Not, certainly, straightway send the necklace back to him: for she might be mistaken. But even if the "stranger" were he, it would be too gross to let him know that she had realised this, and to meet him again with that recognition in their minds.


He knew very well that he was entangling her in helpless humiliation: it was another way of smiling at her ironically, and taking the air of a supercilious mentor.

He knew very well that he was causing her helpless humiliation: it was another way of smiling at her ironically.


Gwendolen felt the bitter tears of mortification rising and rolling down her cheeks.

Gwendolen felt bitter tears of mortification rolling down her cheeks.


No one had ever before dared to treat her with irony and contempt.


One thing was clear: she must carry out her resolution to quit this place at once; it was impossible for her to reappear in the public _salon_, still less stand at the gaming-table with the risk of seeing Deronda.

One thing was clear: she must leave at once; it was impossible for her to reappear in the salon, still less stand at the gaming-table with the risk of seeing Deronda.


Now came an importunate knock at the door: breakfast was ready.

There came a knock at the door: breakfast was ready.


Gwendolen with a passionate movement thrust necklace, cambric, scrap of paper, and all into her _ncessaire_, pressed her handkerchief against her face, and after pausing a minute or two to summon back her proud self-control, went to join her friends.

Gwendolen passionately thrust necklace, cambric, paper and all into her bag, pressed her handkerchief against her face, and after pausing a minute to summon her proud self-control, went to join her friends.


Such signs of tears and fatigue as were left seemed accordant enough with the account she at once gave of her having sat up to do her packing, instead of waiting for help from her friend's maid.

Her signs of tears and fatigue seemed accordant enough with the account she gave of her having sat up to do her packing.


There was much protestation, as she had expected, against her traveling alone, but she persisted in refusing any arrangements for companionship.

Her friends protested against her travelling alone, but she refused any companion.


She would be put into the ladies' compartment and go right on.


She could rest exceedingly well in the train, and was afraid of nothing.


In this way it happened that Gwendolen never reappeared at the roulette-table, but that Thursday evening left Leubronn for Brussels, and on Saturday morning arrived at Offendene, the home to which she and her family were soon to say a last good-bye.


I'll tell thee, Berthold, what men's hopes are like: A silly child that, quivering with joy, Would cast its little mimic fishing-line Baited with loadstone for a bowl of toys In the salt ocean.


Eight months after the arrival of the family at Offendene, that is to say in the end of the following June, a rumor was spread in the neighborhood which to many persons was matter of exciting interest.

Some months later, a rumour spread which excited interest in many persons.


It had no reference to the results of the American war, but it was one which touched all classes within a certain circuit round Wanchester: the corn-factors, the brewers, the horse-dealers, and saddlers, all held it a laudable thing, and one which was to be rejoiced in on abstract grounds, as showing the value of an aristocracy in a free country like England; the blacksmith in the hamlet of Diplow felt that a good time had come round; the wives of laboring men hoped their nimble boys of ten or twelve would be taken into employ by the gentlemen in livery; and the farmers about Diplow admitted, with a tincture of bitterness and reserve, that a man might now again perhaps have an easier market or exchange for a rick of old hay or a wagon-load of straw.


If such were the hopes of low persons not in society, it may be easily inferred that their betters had better reasons for satisfaction, probably connected with the pleasures of life rather than its business.


Marriage, however, must be considered as coming under both heads; and just as when a visit of majesty is announced, the dream of knighthood or a baronetcy is to be found under various municipal nightcaps, so the news in question raised a floating indeterminate vision of marriage in several well-bred imaginations.

Just as when a visit of majesty is announced, the dream of knighthood is to be found under various nightcaps, so the news in question raised a vision of marriage in several well-bred imaginations.


The news was that Diplow Hall, Sir Hugo Mallinger's place, which had for a couple of years turned its white window-shutters in a painfully wall-eyed manner on its fine elms and beeches, its lilied pool and grassy acres specked with deer, was being prepared for a tenant, and was for the rest of the summer and through the hunting season to be inhabited in a fitting style both as to house and stable.

The news was that Diplow Hall, Sir Hugo Mallinger's place, which had for a couple of years been shut up, was to be inhabited in a fitting style.


But not by Sir Hugo himself: by his nephew, Mr. Mallinger Grandcourt, who was presumptive heir to the baronetcy, his uncle's marriage having produced nothing but girls.

But not by Sir Hugo: by his nephew, Mr. Mallinger Grandcourt, who was presumptive heir to the baronetcy, his uncle's marriage having produced nothing but girls.


Nor was this the only contingency with which fortune flattered young Grandcourt, as he was pleasantly called; for while the chance of the baronetcy came through his father, his mother had given a baronial streak to his blood, so that if certain intervening persons slightly painted in the middle distance died, he would become a baron and peer of this realm.

Moreover, young Grandcourt's mother had given a baronial streak to his blood, so that if certain intervening persons died, he would become a baron and peer of the realm.


It is the uneven allotment of nature that the male bird alone has the tuft, but we have not yet followed the advice of hasty philosophers who would have us copy nature entirely in these matters; and if Mr. Mallinger Grandcourt became a baronet or a peer, his wife would share the title--which in addition to his actual fortune was certainly a reason why that wife, being at present unchosen, should be thought of by more than one person with a sympathetic interest as a woman sure to be well provided for.


Some readers of this history will doubtless regard it as incredible that people should construct matrimonial prospects on the mere report that a bachelor of good fortune and possibilities was coming within reach, and will reject the statement as a mere outflow of gall: they will aver that neither they nor their first cousins have minds so unbridled; and that in fact this is not human nature, which would know that such speculations might turn out to be fallacious, and would therefore not entertain them.

Some readers will doubtless regard it as incredible that people should construct matrimonial prospects on the mere report that a bachelor of good fortune was coming within reach, and will aver that this is not human nature.


But, let it be observed, nothing is here narrated of human nature generally: the history in its present stage concerns only a few people in a corner of Wessex--whose reputation, however, was unimpeached, and who, I am in the proud position of being able to state, were all on visiting terms with persons of rank.

But nothing is here narrated of human nature generally: this history concerns only a few people in a corner of Wessex.


There were the Arrowpoints, for example, in their beautiful place at Quetcham: no one could attribute sordid views in relation to their daughter's marriage to parents who could leave her at least half a million; but having affectionate anxieties about their Catherine's position (she having resolutely refused Lord Slogan, an unexceptionable Irish peer, whose estate wanted nothing but drainage and population), they wondered, perhaps from something more than a charitable impulse, whether Mr. Grandcourt was good-looking, of sound constitution, virtuous, or at least reformed, and if liberal-conservative, not too liberal-conservative; and without wishing anybody to die, thought his succession to the title an event to be desired.

There were the Arrowpoints, for example: no one could attribute sordid views about their daughter's marriage to parents who could leave her at least half a million; but since Catherine had already refused Lord Slogan, an unexceptionable Irish peer, they wondered whether Mr. Grandcourt was good-looking and virtuous, or at least reformed; and without wishing anybody to die, thought his succession to the title an event to be desired.


If the Arrowpoints had such ruminations, it is the less surprising that they were stimulated in Mr. Gascoigne, who for being a clergyman was not the less subject to the anxieties of a parent and guardian; and we have seen how both he and Mrs. Gascoigne might by this time have come to feel that he was overcharged with the management of young creatures who were hardly to be held in with bit or bridle, or any sort of metaphor that would stand for judicious advice.

If the Arrowpoints had such thoughts, it is the less surprising that they were present in Mr. Gascoigne, who despite being a clergyman was not the less subject to the anxieties of a parent and guardian.


Naturally, people did not tell each other all they felt and thought about young Grandcourt's advent: on no subject is this openness found prudently practicable--not even on the generation of acids, or the destination of the fixed stars: for either your contemporary with a mind turned toward the same subjects may find your ideas ingenious and forestall you in applying them, or he may have other views on acids and fixed stars, and think ill of you in consequence.

Naturally, the two families did not discuss these hopes with each other.


Mr. Gascoigne did not ask Mr. Arrowpoint if he had any trustworthy source of information about Grandcourt considered as a husband for a charming girl; nor did Mrs. Arrowpoint observe to Mrs. Davilow that if the possible peer sought a wife in the neighborhood of Diplow, the only reasonable expectation was that he would offer his hand to Catherine, who, however, would not accept him unless he were in all respects fitted to secure her happiness.


Indeed, even to his wife the rector was silent as to the contemplation of any matrimonial result, from the probability that Mr. Grandcourt would see Gwendolen at the next Archery Meeting; though Mrs. Gascoigne's mind was very likely still more active in the same direction.


She had said interjectionally to her sister, "It would be a mercy, Fanny, if that girl were well married!"


to which Mrs. Davilow discerning some criticism of her darling in the fervor of that wish, had not chosen to make any audible reply, though she had said inwardly, "You will not get her to marry for your pleasure"; the mild mother becoming rather saucy when she identified herself with her daughter.


To her husband Mrs. Gascoigne said, "I hear Mr. Grandcourt has got two places of his own, but he comes to Diplow for the hunting.

To her husband Mrs. Gascoigne said, "I hear Mr. Grandcourt has got two places, but comes to Diplow for the hunting.


It is to be hoped he will set a good example in the neighborhood.


Have you heard what sort of a young man he is, Henry?"


Mr. Gascoigne had not heard; at least, if his male acquaintances had gossiped in his hearing, he was not disposed to repeat their gossip, or to give it any emphasis in his own mind.

Mr. Gascoigne had not heard; or if his male acquaintances had gossiped, he was not disposed to repeat their gossip.


He held it futile, even if it had been becoming, to show any curiosity as to the past of a young man whose birth, wealth, and consequent leisure made many habits venial which under other circumstances would have been inexcusable.


Whatever Grandcourt had done, he had not ruined himself; and it is well-known that in gambling, for example, whether of the business or holiday sort, a man who has the strength of mind to leave off when he has only ruined others, is a reformed character.

Whatever Grandcourt had done, he had not ruined himself; and it is well-known that in gambling, for example, a man who has the strength of mind to leave off when he has only ruined others, is a reformed character.


This is an illustration merely: Mr. Gascoigne had not heard that Grandcourt had been a gambler; and we can hardly pronounce him singular in feeling that a landed proprietor with a mixture of noble blood in his veins was not to be an object of suspicious inquiry like a reformed character who offers himself as your butler or footman.


Reformation, where a man can afford to do without it, can hardly be other than genuine.


Moreover, it was not certain on any other showing hitherto, that Mr. Grandcourt had needed reformation more than other young men in the ripe youth of five-and-thirty; and, at any rate, the significance of what he had been must be determined by what he actually was.

it was not certain on any other showing that Mr. Grandcourt had needed reformation more than other young men of five-and-thirty.


Mrs. Davilow, too, although she would not respond to her sister's pregnant remark, could not be inwardly indifferent to an advent that might promise a brilliant lot for Gwendolen.

Mrs. Davilow, too, could not be indifferent to an arrival that might promise a brilliant lot for Gwendolen.


A little speculation on "what may be" comes naturally, without encouragement--comes inevitably in the form of images, when unknown persons are mentioned; and Mr. Grandcourt's name raised in Mrs. Davilow's mind first of all the picture of a handsome, accomplished, excellent young man whom she would be satisfied with as a husband for her daughter; but then came the further speculation--would Gwendolen be satisfied with him?

Mr. Grandcourt's name raised in her mind the picture of a handsome, accomplished, excellent young man whom she would be satisfied with as a husband for her daughter; but would Gwendolen be satisfied with him?


There was no knowing what would meet that girl's taste or touch her affections--it might be something else than excellence; and thus the image of the perfect suitor gave way before a fluctuating combination of qualities that might be imagined to win Gwendolen's heart.

There was no knowing what would meet that girl's taste or touch her affections.


In the difficulty of arriving at the particular combination which would insure that result, the mother even said to herself, "It would not signify about her being in love, if she would only accept the right person."

The mother even said to herself, "It would not signify about her being in love, if she would only accept the right person."


For whatever marriage had been for herself, how could she the less desire it for her daughter?

Whatever her own marriage had been, how could she the less desire it for her daughter?


The difference her own misfortunes made was, that she never dared to dwell much to Gwendolen on the desirableness of marriage, dreading an answer something like that of the future Madame Roland, when her gentle mother urging the acceptance of a suitor, said, "Tu seras heureuse, ma chre."


In relation to the problematic Mr. Grandcourt least of all would Mrs. Davilow have willingly let fall a hint of the aerial castle-building which she had the good taste to be ashamed of; for such a hint was likely enough to give an adverse poise to Gwendolen's own thought, and make her detest the desirable husband beforehand.

Mrs. Davilow did not let fall a hint of this aerial castle-building which she had the good taste to be ashamed of; for such a hint was likely to make Gwendolen detest the desirable husband beforehand.


Since that scene after poor Rex's farewell visit, the mother had felt a new sense of peril in touching the mystery of her child's feeling, and in rashly determining what was her welfare: only she could think of welfare in no other shape than marriage.


The discussion of the dress that Gwendolen was to wear at the Archery Meeting was a relevant topic, however; and when it had been decided that as a touch of color on her white cashmere, nothing, for her complexion, was comparable to pale green--a feather which she was trying in her hat before the looking-glass having settled the question--Mrs. Davilow felt her ears tingle when Gwendolen, suddenly throwing herself into the attitude of drawing her bow, said with a look of comic enjoyment,

The discussion of the dress that Gwendolen was to wear at the Archery Meeting was a relevant topic, however; and when it had been decided that as a touch of colour on her white cashmere, nothing suited her better than pale green, Gwendolen, throwing herself into the attitude of drawing her bow, said with a look of comic enjoyment-


"How I pity all the other girls at the Archery Meeting--all thinking of Mr. Grandcourt!

"How I pity all the other girls at the Archery Meeting - all thinking of Mr. Grandcourt!


And they have not a shadow of a chance."


Mrs. Davilow had not the presence of mind to answer immediately, and Gwendolen turned round quickly toward her, saying, wickedly,


You and my uncle and aunt--you all intend him to fall in love with me."

You and my uncle and aunt all intend him to fall in love with me."


Mrs. Davilow, piqued into a little stratagem, said, "Oh, my, dear, that is not so certain.

Mrs. Davilow, piqued, said, "Oh, my dear, that is not so certain.


Miss Arrowpoint has charms which you have not."


My arrow will pierce him before he has time for thought.


He will declare himself my slave--I shall send him round the world to bring me back the wedding ring of a happy woman--in the meantime all the men who are between him and the title will die of different diseases--he will come back Lord Grandcourt--but without the ring--and fall at my feet.

He will declare himself my slave - I shall send him round the world to bring me back the wedding ring of a happy woman - in the meantime all the men between him and the title will die - he will come back Lord Grandcourt and fall at my feet.


I shall laugh at him--he will rise in resentment--I shall laugh more--he will call for his steed and ride to Quetcham, where he will find Miss Arrowpoint just married to a needy musician, Mrs. Arrowpoint tearing her cap off, and Mr. Arrowpoint standing by.

I shall laugh at him - he will call for his steed and ride to Quetcham, where he will find Miss Arrowpoint just married to a needy musician."


Exit Lord Grandcourt, who returns to Diplow, and, like M. Jabot, _change de linge_."


You thought of hiding things from her--sat upon your secret and looked innocent, and all the while she knew by the corner of your eye that it was exactly five pounds ten you were sitting on!

You sat upon your secret, and all the while she knew exactly what you were sitting on!


As well turn the key to keep out the damp!


It was probable that by dint of divination she already knew more than any one else did of Mr. Grandcourt.


That idea in Mrs. Davilow's mind prompted the sort of question which often comes without any other apparent reason than the faculty of speech and the not knowing what to do with it.


"Why, what kind of a man do you imagine him to be, Gwendolen?"


said the witch, putting her forefinger to her lips, with a little frown, and then stretching out the finger with decision.


"Short--just above my shoulder--trying to make himself tall by turning up his mustache and keeping his beard long--a glass in his right eye to give him an air of distinction--a strong opinion about his waistcoat, but uncertain and trimming about the weather, on which he will try to draw me out.

"Short - just above my shoulder - trying to make himself tall by turning up his moustache - a glass in his right eye, which


He will stare at me all the while, and the glass in his eye will cause him to make horrible faces, especially when he smiles in a flattering way.

will cause him to make horrible faces, especially when he smiles.


I shall cast down my eyes in consequence, and he will perceive that I am not indifferent to his attentions.

I shall cast down my eyes, and he will perceive that I am not indifferent to his attentions.


I shall dream that night that I am looking at the extraordinary face of a magnified insect--and the next morning he will make an offer of his hand; the sequel as before."

I shall dream that night that I am looking at the face of a magnified insect - and the next morning he will make an offer of his hand; the sequel as before."


"That is a portrait of some one you have seen already, Gwen.


Mr. Grandcourt may be a delightful young man for what you know."

"Mr. Grandcourt may be a delightful young man."


"Oh, yes," said Gwendolen, with a high note of careless admission, taking off her best hat and turning it round on her hand contemplatively.


"I wonder what sort of behavior a delightful young man would have?


I know he would have hunters and racers, and a London house and two country-houses--one with battlements and another with a veranda.

hunters, and a London house and two country-houses - one with battlements and another with a veranda.


And I feel sure that with a little murdering he might get a title."


The irony of this speech was of the doubtful sort that has some genuine belief mixed up with it.


Poor Mrs. Davilow felt uncomfortable under it.


Her own meanings being usually literal and in intention innocent; and she said with a distressed brow:


"Don't talk in that way, child, for heaven's sake!


you do read such books--they give you such ideas of everything.


I declare when your aunt and I were your age we knew nothing about wickedness.

I declare when I was your age I knew nothing about wickedness."


"Why did you not bring me up in that way, mamma?"


But immediately perceiving in the crushed look and rising sob that she had given a deep wound, she tossed down her hat and knelt at her mother's feet crying,

But immediately perceiving her mother's crushed look, she knelt at her feet crying-


said poor Mrs. Davilow, unable to hear the retraction, and sobbing violently while she made the effort to speak.


"Your will was always too strong for me--if everything else had been different."


This disjoined logic was intelligible enough to the daughter.


"Dear mamma, I don't find fault with you--I love you," said Gwendolen, really compunctious.

Dear mamma, I don't find fault with you - I love you.


Here Gwendolen with her handkerchief gently rubbed away her mother's tears.

Here Gwendolen gently rubbed away her mother's tears.


I like myself better than I should have liked my aunt and you.


How dreadfully dull you must have been!"

, how dreadfully dull you must have been!"


Such tender cajolery served to quiet the mother, as it had often done before after like collisions.

Such tender cajolery quieted the mother, as it had often done before.


Not that the collisions had often been repeated at the same point; for in the memory of both they left an association of dread with the particular topics which had occasioned them: Gwendolen dreaded the unpleasant sense of compunction toward her mother, which was the nearest approach to self-condemnation and self-distrust that she had known; and Mrs. Davilow's timid maternal conscience dreaded whatever had brought on the slightest hint of reproach.

However, Gwendolen dreaded the unpleasant sense of compunction which was the nearest to self-condemnation that she had known; and Mrs. Davilow's timid maternal conscience dreaded any reproach.


Hence, after this little scene, the two concurred in excluding Mr. Grandcourt from their conversation.

Hence, after this, the two excluded Mr. Grandcourt from their conversation.


When Mr. Gascoigne once or twice referred to him, Mrs. Davilow feared least Gwendolen should betray some of her alarming keen-sightedness about what was probably in her uncle's mind; but the fear was not justified.

When Mr. Gascoigne referred to him, Mrs. Davilow feared lest Gwendolen should betray some of her alarming keen-sightedness about what was probably in her uncle's mind; but


Gwendolen knew certain differences in the characters with which she was concerned as birds know climate and weather; and for the very reason that she was determined to evade her uncle's control, she was determined not to clash with him.

Gwendolen was determined not to clash with her uncle.


The good understanding between them was much fostered by their enjoyment of archery together: Mr. Gascoigne, as one of the best bowmen in Wessex, was gratified to find the elements of like skill in his niece; and Gwendolen was the more careful not to lose the shelter of his fatherly indulgence, because since the trouble with Rex both Mrs. Gascoigne and Anna had been unable to hide what she felt to be a very unreasonable alienation from her.

The good understanding between them was much fostered by their enjoyment of archery together. Mr. Gascoigne was gratified to discover his niece's skill; and Gwendolen was the more careful not to lose the shelter of his fatherly indulgence, because since the trouble with Rex both Mrs. Gascoigne and Anna had been unreasonably alienated from her.


Toward Anna she took some pains to behave with a regretful affectionateness; but neither of them dared to mention Rex's name, and Anna, to whom the thought of him was part of the air she breathed, was ill at ease with the lively cousin who had ruined his happiness.

Toward Anna she behaved with regretful affection; but neither of them dared to mention Rex's name, and Anna was ill at ease with her.


She tried dutifully to repress any sign of her changed feeling; but who in pain can imitate the glance and hand-touch of pleasure.


This unfair resentment had rather a hardening effect on Gwendolen, and threw her into a more defiant temper.

This unfair resentment had rather a hardening effect on Gwendolen, and made her defiant.


Her uncle too might be offended if she refused the next person who fell in love with her; and one day when that idea was in her mind she said,

Her uncle too might be offended if she refused the next person who fell in love with her.


"Mamma, I see now why girls are glad to be married--to escape being expected to please everybody but themselves."


Happily, Mr. Middleton was gone without having made any avowal; and notwithstanding the admiration for the handsome Miss Harleth, extending perhaps over thirty square miles in a part of Wessex well studded with families whose numbers included several disengaged young men, each glad to seat himself by the lively girl with whom it was so easy to get on in conversation,--notwithstanding these grounds for arguing that Gwendolen was likely to have other suitors more explicit than the cautious curate, the fact was not so.

But happily, Mr. Middleton was gone without having made any avowal; and Gwendolen had no other suitors.


Care has been taken not only that the trees should not sweep the stars down, but also that every man who admires a fair girl should not be enamored of her, and even that every man who is enamored should not necessarily declare himself.

For not every man who admires a fair girl will be enamoured of her, and not every man who is enamoured will necessarily declare himself.


There are various refined shapes in which the price of corn, known to be potent cause in their relation, might, if inquired into, show why a young lady, perfect in person, accomplishments, and costume, has not the trouble of rejecting many offers; and nature's order is certainly benignant in not obliging us one and all to be desperately in love with the most admirable mortal we have ever seen.


Gwendolen, we know, was far from holding that supremacy in the minds of all observers.

Gwendolen was far from holding supremacy in the minds of all observers.


Besides, it was but a poor eight months since she had come to Offendene, and some inclinations become manifest slowly, like the sunward creeping of plants.


In face of this fact that not one of the eligible young men already in the neighborhood had made Gwendolen an offer, why should Mr. Grandcourt be thought of as likely to do what they had left undone?

Since not one of the eligible young men in the neighbourhood had made Gwendolen an offer, why should Mr. Grandcourt be thought likely to do it?


Perhaps because he was thought of as still more eligible; since a great deal of what passes for likelihood in the world is simply the reflex of a wish.

Perhaps because a great deal of what passes for likelihood in the world is simply the reflex of a wish.


Mr. and Mrs. Arrowpoint, for example, having no anxiety that Miss Harleth should make a brilliant marriage, had quite a different likelihood in their minds.


"If any one should importune me to give a reason why I loved him, I feel it could no otherwise be expressed than by making answer, 'Because it was he, because it was I.'


There is, beyond what I am able to say, I know not what inexplicable power that brought on this union."


The time had come to prepare Mordecai for the revelation of the restored sister and for the change of abode which was desirable before Mirah's meeting with her brother.


Mrs. Meyrick, to whom Deronda had confided everything except Mordecai's peculiar relation to himself, had been active in helping him to find a suitable lodging in Brompton, not many minutes' walk from her own house, so that the brother and sister would be within reach of her motherly care.

Mrs. Meyrick had helped Deronda to find a suitable lodging in Brompton, not far from her own house, so that the brother and sister would be within reach of her motherly care.


Her happy mixture of Scottish fervor and Gaelic liveliness had enabled her to keep the secret close from the girls as well as from Hans, any betrayal to them being likely to reach Mirah in some way that would raise an agitating suspicion, and spoil the important opening of that work which was to secure her independence, as we rather arbitrarily call one of the more arduous and dignified forms of our dependence.

She had kept the secret from the girls as well as from Hans, as any betrayal to them might reach Mirah and cause her agitation that would spoil the important opening of the work which was to secure her independence.


And both Mrs. Meyrick and Deronda had more reasons than they could have expressed for desiring that Mirah should be able to maintain herself.

And both Mrs. Meyrick and Deronda had private reasons for desiring that Mirah should be able to maintain herself.


Perhaps "the little mother" was rather helped in her secrecy by some dubiousness in her sentiment about the remarkable brother described to her; and certainly if she felt any joy and anticipatory admiration, it was due to her faith in Deronda's judgment.

"The little mother" felt some dubiousness about the remarkable brother described to her; and certainly if she felt any joy, it was due to her faith in Deronda's judgment.


The consumption was a sorrowful fact that appealed to her tenderness; but how was she to be very glad of an enthusiasm which, to tell the truth, she could only contemplate as Jewish pertinacity, and as rather an undesirable introduction among them all of a man whose conversation would not be more modern and encouraging than that of Scott's Covenanters?

Mordecai's consumption was a sorrowful fact that appealed to her tenderness; but how was she to be glad of his antique brand of Jewish zeal?


Her mind was anything but prosaic, and had her soberer share of Mab's delight in the romance of Mirah's story and of her abode with them; but the romantic or unusual in real life requires some adaptation.

She was anything but prosaic, and had her share of Mab's delight in the romance of Mirah's story; but the romantic in real life requires some adaptation.


We sit up at night to read about Sakya-Mouni, St. Francis, or Oliver Cromwell; but whether we should be glad for any one at all like them to call on us the next morning, still more, to reveal himself as a new relation, is quite another affair.

We sit up at night to read about St. Francis, or Oliver Cromwell; but whether we should be glad for them to call on us the next morning, is quite another matter.


Besides, Mrs. Meyrick had hoped, as her children did, that the intensity of Mirah's feeling about Judaism would slowly subside, and be merged in the gradually deepening current of loving interchange with her new friends.

Besides, Mrs. Meyrick had hoped, as her children did, that the intensity of Mirah's feeling about Judaism would slowly subside in the loving interchange with her new friends.


In fact, her secret favorite continuation of the romance had been no discovery of Jewish relations, but something much more favorable to the hopes she discerned in Hans.

In fact, her secret hope had been no discovery of Jewish relations, but concerned the feelings she perceived in Hans.


And now--here was a brother who would dip Mirah's mind over again in the deepest dye of Jewish sentiment.

And now, here was a brother who would dip Mirah's mind again in the deepest dye of Jewish sentiment.


"I am as glad as you are that the pawnbroker is not her brother: there are Ezras and Ezras in the world; and really it is a comfort to think that all Jews are not like those shopkeepers who _will not_ let you get out of their shops: and besides, what he said to you about his mother and sister makes me bless him.

"I am glad that the pawnbroker is not her brother: it is a comfort to think that all Jews are not like those shopkeepers who will not let you get out of their shops: and besides, what the brother said to you about his mother and sister makes me bless him.


But I never did like anything fanatical.


I suppose I heard a little too much preaching in my youth and lost my palate for it."

I suppose I heard a little too much preaching in my youth and lost my taste for it."


"I don't think you will find that Mordecai obtrudes any preaching," said Deronda.

"I don't think you will find that Mordecai preaches," said Deronda.


"He is not what I should call fanatical.


I call a man fanatical when his enthusiasm is narrow and hoodwinked, so that he has no sense of proportions, and becomes unjust and unsympathetic to men who are out of his own track.

I call a man fanatical when his enthusiasm is narrow and hoodwinked, so that he has no sense of proportion, and becomes unsympathetic to men who are out of his own track.


Mordecai is an enthusiast; I should like to keep that word for the highest order of minds--those who care supremely for grand and general benefits to mankind.

Mordecai is an enthusiast; one of those who care supremely for general benefits to mankind.


He is not a strictly orthodox Jew, and is full of allowances for others; his conformity in many things is an allowance for the condition of other Jews.

He is not a strictly orthodox Jew, and is full of allowances for others.


The people he lives with are as fond of him as possible, and they can't in the least understand his ideas."

The people he lives with are as fond of him as possible, though they can't in the least understand his ideas."


"Oh, well, I can live up to the level of the pawnbroker's mother, and like him for what I see to be good in him; and for what I don't see the merits of I will take your word.


According to your definition, I suppose one might be fanatical in worshipping common-sense; for my poor husband used to say the world would be a poor place if there were nothing but common-sense in it.


However, Mirah's brother will have good bedding--that I have taken care of; and I shall have this extra window pasted up with paper to prevent draughts."

At least Mirah's brother will have good bedding - that I have taken care of; and I shall have this extra window pasted up to prevent draughts."


(The conversation was taking place in the destined lodging.)


"It is a comfort to think that the people of the house are no strangers to me--no hypocritical harpies.


And when the children know, we shall be able to make the rooms much prettier."

"When the children know, we shall be able to make the rooms much prettier."


"The next stage of the affair is to tell all to Mordecai, and get him to move--which may be a more difficult business," said Deronda.

"The next stage is to tell all to Mordecai, and get him to move - which may be difficult," said Deronda.


"And will you tell Mirah before I say anything to the children?"


But Deronda hesitated, and she went on in a tone of persuasive deliberation--"No, I think not.


Let me tell Hans and the girls the evening before, and they will be away the next morning?"

"Let me tell Hans and the girls the evening before, and they will be away the next morning.


But do justice to my account of Mordecai--or Ezra, as I suppose Mirah will wish to call him: don't assist their imagination by referring to Habakkuk Mucklewrath," said Deronda, smiling--Mrs. Meyrick herself having used the comparison of the Covenanters.


"Trust me, trust me," said the little mother.


"I shall have to persuade them so hard to be glad, that I shall convert myself.

I shall persuade them so hard to be glad, that I shall convert myself."


When I am frightened I find it a good thing to have somebody to be angry with for not being brave: it warms the blood."


Deronda might have been more argumentative or persuasive about the view to be taken of Mirah's brother, if he had been less anxiously preoccupied with the more important task immediately before him, which he desired to acquit himself of without wounding the Cohens.

Deronda was anxiously preoccupied with the question of how to move Mordecai without wounding the Cohens.


Mordecai, by a memorable answer, had made it evident that he would be keenly alive to any inadvertance in relation to their feelings.

Mordecai had made it evident that he would be keenly alive to any injury to their feelings.


In the interval, he had been meeting Mordecai at the _Hand and Banner_, but now after due reflection he wrote to him saying that he had particular reasons for wishing to see him in his own home the next evening, and would beg to sit with him in his workroom for an hour, if the Cohens would not regard it as an intrusion.

After due reflection, Deronda wrote to him asking to see him in his own home the next evening for a particular purpose, if the Cohens would not regard it as an intrusion.


He would call with the understanding that if there were any objection, Mordecai would accompany him elsewhere.


Deronda hoped in this way to create a little expectation that would have a preparatory effect.

Deronda hoped in this way to create a little preparatory expectation.


He was received with the usual friendliness, some additional costume in the women and children, and in all the elders a slight air of wondering which even in Cohen was not allowed to pass the bounds of silence--the guest's transactions with Mordecai being a sort of mystery which he was rather proud to think lay outside the sphere of light which enclosed his own understanding.

He was received with the usual friendliness, and a slight air of wondering which the Cohens did not allow to pass the bounds of silence.


But when Deronda said, "I suppose Mordecai is at home and expecting me," Jacob, who had profited by the family remarks, went up to his knee and said, "What do you want to talk to Mordecai about?"

But when Deronda said, "I suppose Mordecai is expecting me," Jacob said, "What do you want to talk to him about?"


"Something that is very interesting to him," said Deronda, pinching the lad's ear, "but that you can't understand."


said Jacob, immediately giving forth a string of his rote-learned Hebrew verses with a wonderful mixture of the throaty and the nasal, and nodding his small head at his hearer, with a sense of giving formidable evidence which might rather alter their mutual position.

said Jacob, immediately reciting a string of his rote-learned Hebrew verses, with a sense of giving formidable evidence which might alter their mutual position.


"No, really," said Deronda, keeping grave; "I can't say anything like it."

"No," said Deronda, keeping grave; "I can't say anything like it."


"I thought not," said Jacob, performing a dance of triumph with his small scarlet legs, while he took various objects out of the deep pockets of his knickerbockers and returned them thither, as a slight hint of his resources; after which, running to the door of the workroom, he opened it wide, set his back against it, and said, "Mordecai, here's the young swell"--a copying of his father's phrase, which seemed to him well fitted to cap the recitation of Hebrew.

"I thought not," said Jacob, performing a dance of triumph, while he took various objects out of his pockets as a hint of his resources; after which, running to the door of the workroom, he opened it wide, and said, "Mordecai, here's the young swell" - copying his father's phrase.


He was called back with hushes by mother and grandmother, and Deronda, entering and closing the door behind him, saw that a bit of carpet had been laid down, a chair placed, and the fire and lights attended to, in sign of the Cohens' respect.

He was called back with hushes, and Deronda, entering and closing the door behind him, saw that a bit of carpet had been laid down, a chair placed, and the fire and lights attended to, in sign of the Cohens' respect.


As Mordecai rose to greet him, Deronda was struck with the air of solemn expectation in his face, such as would have seemed perfectly natural if his letter had declared that some revelation was to be made about the lost sister.

As Mordecai rose to greet him, Deronda was struck with the air of solemn expectation in his face.


Neither of them spoke, till Deronda, with his usual tenderness of manner, had drawn the vacant chair from the opposite side of the hearth and had seated himself near to Mordecai, who then said, in a tone of fervid certainty,

Neither of them spoke, till Deronda had drawn the vacant chair to seat himself near to Mordecai, who then said, in a tone of fervid certainty-


"You are coming to tell me something that my soul longs for."


"It is true I have something very weighty to tell you--something I trust that you will rejoice in," said Deronda, on his guard against the probability that Mordecai had been preparing himself for something quite different from the fact.

"It is true I have something very weighty to tell you - something I trust that you will rejoice in," said Deronda, on his guard against the probability that Mordecai expected something quite different from the fact.


"It is all revealed--it is made clear to you," said Mordecai, more eagerly, leaning forward with clasped hands.

"It is all revealed - it is made clear to you," said Mordecai eagerly, clasping his hands.


"You are even as my brother that sucked the breasts of my mother--the heritage is yours--there is no doubt to divide us."

"You are as my brother - the heritage is yours - there is no doubt to divide us."


"I have learned nothing new about myself," said Deronda.


The disappointment was inevitable: it was better not to let the feeling be strained longer in a mistaken hope.

The disappointment was inevitable: better not to delay it.


Mordecai sank back in his chair, unable for the moment to care what was really coming.


The whole day his mind had been in a state of tension toward one fulfillment.

All day his mind had been in a state of tension toward one fulfilment.


The reaction was sickening and he closed his eyes.


"Except," Deronda went on gently, after a pause,--"except that I had really some time ago come into another sort of hidden connection with you, besides what you have spoken of as existing in your own feeling."

"Except," Deronda went on gently,- "except that I had some time ago come into another hidden connection with you, besides the one in your own feeling."


The eyes were not opened, but there was a fluttering in the lids.


"I had made the acquaintance of one in whom you are interested."


"One who is closely related to your departed mother," Deronda went on wishing to make the disclosure gradual; but noticing a shrinking movement in Mordecai, he added--"whom she and you held dear above all others."

Mordecai opened his eyes and fixed them quietly on Deronda.
"One who is closely related to your departed mother," Deronda went on, wishing to make the disclosure gradual; but noticing a shrinking movement in Mordecai, he added - "whom she and you held dear above all others."


Mordecai, with a sudden start, laid a spasmodic grasp on Deronda's wrist; there was a great terror in him.


A tremor was perceptible in his clear tones as he said,

With a tremor in his clear tones he said-


"What was prayed for has come to pass: Mirah has been delivered from evil."


Mordecai's grasp relaxed a little, but he was panting with a tearless sob.

Mordecai's grasp relaxed, but he was panting with a tearless sob.


Deronda went on: "Your sister is worthy of the mother you honored."

Deronda went on: "Your sister is worthy of the mother you honoured."


He waited there, and Mordecai, throwing himself backward in his chair, again closed his eyes, uttering himself almost inaudibly for some minutes in Hebrew, and then subsiding into a happy-looking silence.

He waited, and Mordecai again closed his eyes, murmuring for some minutes in Hebrew, and then subsiding into a happy-looking silence.


Deronda, watching the expression in his uplifted face, could have imagined that he was speaking with some beloved object: there was a new suffused sweetness, something like that on the faces of the beautiful dead.

Deronda could have imagined that he was speaking with some beloved object: his face held a new sweetness,


For the first time Deronda thought he discerned a family resemblance to Mirah.

and for the first time Deronda thought he discerned a family resemblance to Mirah.


Presently when Mordecai was ready to listen, the rest was told.

When Mordecai was ready to listen, the rest was told.


But in accounting for Mirah's flight he made the statement about the father's conduct as vague as he could, and threw the emphasis on her yearning to come to England as the place where she might find her mother.

But in describing Mirah's flight he made the statement about the father's conduct as vague as he could, and emphasised her yearning to come to England to find her mother.


Also he kept back the fact of Mirah's intention to drown herself, and his own part in rescuing her; merely describing the home she had found with friends of his, whose interest in her and efforts for her he had shared.

Also he kept back Mirah's intention to drown herself, and his rescue of her, merely describing the home she had found with friends of his.


What he dwelt on finally was Mirah's feeling about her mother and brother; and in relation to this he tried to give every detail.

What he dwelt on was Mirah's feeling about her mother and brother; and about this he tried to give every detail.


"It was in search of them," said Deronda, smiling, "that I turned into this house: the name Ezra Cohen was just then the most interesting name in the world to me.

"It was in search of them," said Deronda, smiling, "that I turned into this house: the name Ezra Cohen was just then the most interesting in the world to me.


Perhaps you will forgive me now for having asked you that question about the elder Mrs. Cohen's daughter.


I cared very much what I should find Mirah's friends to be.


But I had found a brother worthy of her when I knew that her Ezra was disguised under the name of Mordecai."

But I found a brother worthy of her disguised under the name of Mordecai."


"Mordecai is really my name--Ezra Mordecai Cohen."

"Mordecai is really my name - Ezra Mordecai Cohen."


"Is there any kinship between this family and yours?"


My soul clings to these people, who have sheltered me and given me succor out of the affection that abides in Jewish hearts, as sweet odor in things long crushed and hidden from the outer air.

My soul clings to these people, who have sheltered me out of the affection that abides in Jewish hearts.


It is good for me to bear with their ignorance and be bound to them in gratitude, that I may keep in mind the spiritual poverty of the Jewish million, and not put impatient knowledge in the stead of loving wisdom."

It is good for me to bear with their ignorance and be bound to them in gratitude, that I may keep in mind the spiritual poverty of the Jewish millions, and not put impatient knowledge in the stead of loving wisdom."


"But you don't feel bound to continue with them now there is a closer tie to draw you?"


said Deronda, not without fear that he might find an obstacle to overcome.

said Deronda, fearing he might find an obstacle to overcome.


"It seems to me right now--is it not?--that you should live with your sister; and I have prepared a home to take you to in the neighborhood of her friends, that she may join you there.

"It seems to me right that you should live with your sister; and I have prepared a home for you near her friends, that she may join you there.


It will enable me to be with you often in the hours when Mirah is obliged to leave you.


But the chief reason is, that Mirah will desire to watch over you, and that you ought to give her the guardianship of a brother's presence.

But the chief reason is, that Mirah will desire to watch over you, and you ought to give her the guardianship of a brother's presence.


I shall want to learn of you, and to take you out to see the river and trees.

, and I shall want to learn from you, and take you out to see the river and trees.


And you will have the rest and comfort that you will be more and more in need of--nay, that I need for you.

And you will have the rest and comfort that you will be more and more in need of.


This is the claim I make on you, now that we have found each other."


Deronda spoke in a tone of earnest, affectionate pleading, such as he might have used to a venerated elder brother.


Mordecai's eyes were fixed on him with a listening contemplation, and he was silent for a little while after Deronda had ceased to speak.

Mordecai's eyes were fixed on him, and he was silent for a little while.


Then he said, with an almost reproachful emphasis,


"And you would have me hold it doubtful whether you were born a Jew!

"And you would have me doubt whether you were born a Jew!


Have we not from the first touched each other with invisible fibres--have we not quivered together like the leaves from a common stem with stirring from a common root?

Have we not from the first touched each other like the leaves from a common stem?


I know what I am outwardly, I am one among the crowd of poor--I am stricken, I am dying.


They gazed in silence as those who have long been parted and meet again, but when they found voice they were assured, and all their speech is understanding.


Deronda sat perfectly still, but felt his face tingling.


It was impossible either to deny or assent.


He waited, hoping that Mordecai would presently give him a more direct answer.

He waited, hoping for a more direct answer; and eventually Mordecai said-


And after a pause of meditation he did say, firmly,


And our mother--may the blessing of the Eternal be with her in our souls!--would have wished it too.

Our blessed mother would have wished it.


I will accept what your loving kindness has prepared, and Mirah's home shall be mine."


He paused a moment, and then added in a more melancholy tone, "But I shall grieve to part from these parents and the little ones.

He added in a more melancholy tone, "But I shall grieve to part from this family.


You must tell them, for my heart would fail me."


"I felt that you would want me to tell them.


said Deronda, much relieved by this unwavering compliance.


It must be done," said Mordecai, rising with the air of a man who has to perform a painful duty.

," said Mordecai, rising with the air of a man who must perform a painful duty.


Then came, as an afterthought, "But do not dwell on my sister more than is needful."


When they entered the parlor he said to the alert Jacob, "Ask your father to come, and tell Sarah to mind the shop.

When they entered the parlour he said to the alert Jacob, "Ask your father to come.


My friend has something to say," he continued, turning to the elder Mrs. Cohen.


It seemed part of Mordecai's eccentricity that he should call this gentleman his friend; and the two women tried to show their better manners by warm politeness in begging Deronda to seat himself in the best place.

The two women politely begged Deronda to seat himself in the best place


When Cohen entered with a pen behind his ear, he rubbed his hands and said with loud satisfaction, "Well, sir!

, while Cohen said with satisfaction, "Well, sir!


I'm glad you're doing us the honor to join our family party again.

I'm glad you're doing us the honour to join our family party again."


And when all were seated on the hearth the scene was worth peeping in upon: on one side Baby under her scarlet quilt in the corner being rocked by the young mother, and Adelaide Rebekah seated on the grandmother's knee; on the other, Jacob between his father's legs; while the two markedly different figures of Deronda and Mordecai were in the middle--Mordecai a little backward in the shade, anxious to conceal his agitated susceptibility to what was going on around him.

And when all were seated on the hearth the scene was worth peeping in upon: on one side Baby being rocked by the young mother, and Adelaide Rebekah seated on the grandmother's knee; on the other, Jacob between his father's legs; while the two markedly different figures of Deronda and Mordecai were in the middle - Mordecai shaded from the firelight, anxious to conceal his agitation.


The chief light came from the fire, which brought out the rich color on a depth of shadow, and seemed to turn into speech the dark gems of eyes that looked at each other kindly.


"I have just been telling Mordecai of an event that makes a great change in his life," Deronda began, "but I hope you will agree with me that it is a joyful one.


Since he thinks of you as his best friends, he wishes me to tell you for him at once."

Since he thinks of you as his best friends, he wishes me to tell you at once."


burst in Cohen, feeling a power of divination which it was a pity to nullify by waiting for the fact.


"No; not exactly," said Deronda, smiling.


"But a very precious relation wishes to be reunited to him--a very good and lovely young sister, who will care for his comfort in every way."

"But a very precious relation wishes to be reunited to him - a good and lovely young sister, who will care for his comfort in every way."


"With talents which will secure her a maintenance.

"With talents which will secure her an income.


A home is already provided for Mordecai."


There was silence for a moment or two before the grandmother said in a wailing tone,

There was silence for a moment before the grandmother wailed-


and so you're going away from us, Mordecai."


"And where there's no children as there is here," said the mother, catching the wail.

"To where there's no children," said the mother, catching the wail.


"No Jacob, and no Adelaide, and no Eugenie!"

"No Jacob, no Adelaide, and no Eugenie!"


"Ay, ay, Jacob's learning 'ill all wear out of him.

"Ay, Jacob's learning will wear out of him.


It'll be hard times for Jacob," said Cohen, in a tone of decision.

It'll be hard times for Jacob," said Cohen decisively.


In the wide-open ears of Jacob his father's words sounded like a doom, giving an awful finish to the dirge-like effect of the whole announcement.

To Jacob these words sounded like a doom.


His face had been gathering a wondering incredulous sorrow at the notion of Mordecai's going away: he was unable to imagine the change as anything lasting; but at the mention of "hard times for Jacob" there was no further suspense of feeling, and he broke forth in loud lamentation.

His face had shown a wondering sorrow at the notion of Mordecai's going away: but at the mention of "hard times for Jacob" he broke forth in loud lamentation.


Adelaide Rebekah always cried when her brother cried, and now began to howl with astonishing suddenness, whereupon baby awaking contributed angry screams, and required to be taken out of the cradle.


A great deal of hushing was necessary, and Mordecai feeling the cries pierce him, put out his arms to Jacob, who in the midst of his tears and sobs was turning his head right and left for general observation.

A great deal of hushing was necessary, and Mordecai, feeling the cries pierce him, put out his arms to Jacob.


His father, who had been saying, "Never mind, old man; you shall go to the riders," now released him, and he went to Mordecai, who clasped him, and laid his cheek on the little black head without speaking.

His father, who had been comforting him, released him, and he went to Mordecai, who laid his cheek on the little black head without speaking.


But Cohen, sensible that the master of the family must make some apology for all this weakness, and that the occasion called for a speech, addressed Deronda with some elevation of pitch, squaring his elbows and resting a hand on each knee:

But Cohen, wishing to make some apology for all this weakness, addressed Deronda:-


"It's not as we're the people to grudge anybody's good luck, sir, or the portion of their cup being made fuller, as I may say.

"We're not people to grudge anybody's good luck, sir.


I'm not an envious man, and if anybody offered to set up Mordecai in a shop of my sort two doors lower down, _I_ shouldn't make wry faces about it.

I'm not an envious man, and if anybody offered to set up Mordecai in a shop of my sort two doors lower down, I shouldn't make wry faces about it.


I'm not one of them that had need have a poor opinion of themselves, and be frightened at anybody else getting a chance.

I'm not one of them that is frightened at anybody else getting a chance.


If I'm offal, let a wise man come and tell me, for I've never heard it yet.


And in point of business, I'm not a class of goods to be in danger.


If anybody takes to rolling me, I can pack myself up like a caterpillar, and find my feet when I'm let alone.


And though, as I may say, you're taking some of our good works from us, which is property bearing interest, I'm not saying but we can afford that, though my mother and my wife had the good will to wish and do for Mordecai to the last; and a Jew must not be like a servant who works for reward--though I see nothing against a reward if I can get it.

And though, as I may say, you're taking some of our good works from us, which is property bearing interest, I'm not saying but we can afford that, though my mother and my wife had the good will to do for Mordecai to the last.


And as to the extra outlay in schooling, I'm neither poor nor greedy--I wouldn't hang myself for sixpence, nor half a crown neither.

And as to the extra outlay in schooling, I'm neither poor nor greedy.


But the truth of it is, the women and children are fond of Mordecai.

But the truth is, the women and children are fond of Mordecai.


You may partly see how it is, sir, by your own sense.


A Jewish man is bound to thank God, day by day, that he was not made a woman; but a woman has to thank God that He has made her according to His will.


And we all know what He has made her--a child-bearing, tender-hearted thing is the woman of our people.

And we all know what He has made her - a child-bearing, tender-hearted thing is the woman of our people.


Her children are mostly stout, as I think you'll say Addy's are, and she's not mushy, but her heart is tender.


So you must excuse present company, sir, for not being glad all at once.


And as to this young lady--for by what you say 'young lady' is the proper term"--Cohen here threw some additional emphasis into his look and tone--"we shall all be glad for Mordecai's sake by-and-by, when we cast up our accounts and see where we are."

We shall be glad for Mordecai's sake by-and-by."


Before Deronda could summon any answer to this oddly mixed speech, Mordecai exclaimed,

Before Deronda could answer, Mordecai exclaimed-


For food and raiment and shelter I would not have sought better than you have given me.

For food and shelter I would not have sought better than you have given me


You have sweetened the morsel with love; and what I thought of as a joy that would be left to me even in the last months of my waning strength was to go on teaching the lad.

; and it would be a joy to me even in my last months to go on teaching the lad.


But now I am as one who had clad himself beforehand in his shroud, and used himself to making the grave his bed, when the divine command sounded in his ears, 'Arise, and go forth; the night is not yet come.'


For no light matter would I have turned away from your kindness to take another's.

For no light matter would I have turned away from your kindness.


But it has been taught us, as you know, that _the reward of one duty is the power to fulfill another_--so said Ben Azai.

But the reward of one duty is the power to fulfil another - so said Ben Azai.


You have made your duty to one of the poor among your brethren a joy to you and me; and your reward shall be that you will not rest without the joy of like deeds in the time to come.

You have made your duty a joy to you and me; and your reward shall be that you will have the joy of like deeds in time to come.


Mordecai had turned with this question to Deronda, who said,


Jacob, who had been gradually calmed by the need to hear what was going forward, began now to see some daylight on the future, the word "visit" having the lively charm of cakes and general relaxation at his grandfather's, the dealer in knives.

Jacob, who had been gradually calmed, now began to see some daylight on the future, the word "visit" having the lively charm of cakes.


He danced away from Mordecai, and took up a station of survey in the middle of the hearth with his hands in his knickerbockers.

He danced away from Mordecai, and stood in the hearth with his hands in his knickerbockers.


"Well," said the grandmother, with a sigh of resignation, "I hope there'll be nothing in the way of your getting _kosher_ meat, Mordecai.

"Well," said the grandmother, with a sigh of resignation, "I hope there'll be nothing in the way of your getting kosher meat, Mordecai."


For you'll have to trust to those you live with."


"That's all right, that's all right, you may be sure, mother," said Cohen, as if anxious to cut off inquiry on matters in which he was uncertain of the guest's position.

"That's all right, you may be sure, mother," said Cohen.


"So, sir," he added, turning with a look of amused enlightenment to Deronda, "it was better than learning you had to talk to Mordecai about!

"So, sir," he added, turning a look of amused enlightenment to Deronda, "it was more than learning that you had to talk to Mordecai about!


I thought somehow there was a something."


"Mordecai will perhaps explain to you how it was that I was seeking him," said Deronda, feeling that he had better go, and rising as he spoke.

"Mordecai will perhaps explain to you why I was seeking him," said Deronda, rising to go.


It was agreed that he should come again and the final move be made on the next day but one; but when he was going Mordecai begged to walk with him to the end of the street, and wrapped himself in coat and comforter.

Mordecai begged to walk with him to the end of the street, and wrapped himself in his coat.


It was a March evening, and Deronda did not mean to let him go far, but he understood the wish to be outside the house with him in communicative silence, after the exciting speech that had been filling the last hour.

It was a March evening, and Deronda did not mean to let him go far, but he understood the wish to be outside with him in communicative silence, after the excitement of the last hour.


No word was spoken until Deronda had proposed parting, when he said,


"Mirah would wish to thank the Cohens for their goodness.


You would wish her to do so--to come and see them, would you not?"


Mordecai did not answer immediately, but at length said,


There is a family sorrow, and the sight of my sister might be to them as the fresh bleeding of wounds.

There is a family sorrow, and the sight of my sister might re-open those wounds.


There is a daughter and sister who will never be restored as Mirah is.

There is a daughter who will never be restored as Mirah is.


We are all of us denying or fulfilling prayers--and men in their careless deeds walk amidst invisible outstretched arms and pleadings made in vain.

We are all of us denying or fulfilling prayers.


In my ears I have the prayers of generations past and to come.


My life is as nothing to me but the beginning of fulfilment.


And yet I am only another prayer--which you will fulfil."

And I am only another prayer - which you will fulfil."


Deronda pressed his hand, and they parted.


No penitence and no confessional, No priest ordains it, yet they're forced to sit Amid deep ashes of their vanished years.


Imagine a rambling, patchy house, the best part built of gray stone, and red-tiled, a round tower jutting at one of the corners, the mellow darkness of its conical roof surmounted by a weather-cock making an agreeable object either amidst the gleams and greenth of summer or the low-hanging clouds and snowy branches of winter: the ground shady with spreading trees: a great tree flourishing on one side, backward some Scotch firs on a broken bank where the roots hung naked, and beyond, a rookery: on the other side a pool overhung with bushes, where the water-fowl fluttered and screamed: all around, a vast meadow which might be called a park, bordered by an old plantation and guarded by stone lodges which looked like little prisons.

Imagine a rambling house, built of grey stone and red-tiled, a round tower jutting at its corner: a great tree flourishing on one side, with a rookery behind it; on the other side a pool overhung with bushes, where the water-fowl fluttered and screamed: all around, a vast park, bordered by an old plantation.


Outside the gate the country, once entirely rural and lovely, now black with coal mines, was chiefly peopled by men and brethren with candles stuck in their hats, and with a diabolic complexion which laid them peculiarly open to suspicion in the eyes of the children at Gadsmere--Mrs. Glasher's four beautiful children, who had dwelt there for about three years.

Outside the gate the country, once entirely rural and lovely, now black with coal mines, was chiefly peopled by men with candles stuck in their hats, whose dark faces frightened the children at Gadsmere - Mrs. Glasher's four beautiful children, who had dwelt there for three years.


Now, in November, when the flower-beds were empty, the trees leafless, and the pool blackly shivering, one might have said that the place was sombrely in keeping with the black roads and black mounds which seemed to put the district in mourning;--except when the children were playing on the gravel with the dogs for their companions.

Now, in November, when the trees were leafless and the pool blackly shivering, the place was sombrely in keeping with the black roads and black mounds which seemed to put the district in mourning.


But Mrs. Glasher, under her present circumstances, liked Gadsmere as well as she would have liked any other abode.

But Mrs. Glasher liked Gadsmere as well as she would have liked any other abode.


The complete seclusion of the place, which the unattractiveness of the country secured, was exactly to her taste.

Its complete seclusion was to her taste.


When she drove her two ponies with a waggonet full of children, there were no gentry in carriages to be met, only men of business in gigs; at church there were no eyes she cared to avoid, for the curate's wife and the curate himself were either ignorant of anything to her disadvantage, or ignored it: to them she was simply a widow lady, the tenant of Gadsmere; and the name of Grandcourt was of little interest in that district compared with the names of Fletcher and Gawcome, the lessees of the collieries.

When she drove her two ponies with a waggonet full of children, there were no gentry in carriages to be met, only men of business in gigs; at church there were no eyes she needed to avoid, for to the curate she was simply a widow, the tenant of Gadsmere.


It was full ten years since the elopement of an Irish officer's beautiful wife with young Grandcourt, and a consequent duel where the bullets wounded the air only, had made some little noise.

It was full ten years since the elopement of an Irish officer's beautiful wife with young Grandcourt, and a consequent duel where the bullets wounded the air only.


Most of those who remembered the affair now wondered what had become of that Mrs. Glasher, whose beauty and brilliancy had made her rather conspicuous to them in foreign places, where she was known to be living with young Grandcourt.

Most of those who remembered the affair now wondered what had become of the beautiful and brilliant Lydia Glasher after she had gone to live with young Grandcourt abroad.


That he should have disentangled himself from that connection seemed only natural and desirable.

That he should have disentangled himself from her seemed natural and desirable.


As to her, it was thought that a woman who was understood to have forsaken her child along with her husband had probably sunk lower.

As to her, it was thought that a woman who had forsaken her child along with her husband had probably sunk lower still.


Grandcourt had of course got weary of her.


He was much given to the pursuit of women: but a man in his position would by this time desire to make a suitable marriage with the fair young daughter of a noble house.

He was much given to the pursuit of women: but a man in his position would in time desire to make a suitable marriage.


No one talked of Mrs. Glasher now, any more than they talked of the victim in a trial for manslaughter ten years before: she was a lost vessel after whom nobody would send out an expedition of search; but Grandcourt was seen in harbor with his colors flying, registered as seaworthy as ever.

No one talked of Mrs. Glasher now: she was a lost vessel after whom nobody would send out a search expedition; but Grandcourt was seen in harbour with his colours flying, as seaworthy as ever.


Yet, in fact, Grandcourt had never disentangled himself from Mrs. Glasher.


His passion for her had been the strongest and most lasting he had ever known; and though it was now as dead as the music of a cracked flute, it had left a certain dull disposedness, which, on the death of her husband three years before, had prompted in him a vacillating notion of marrying her, in accordance with the understanding often expressed between them during the days of his first ardor.

His passion for her had been the strongest and most lasting he had ever known; and though it was now as dead as the music of a cracked flute, it had left a certain dull disposedness, which, on the death of her husband three years before, had made him consider marrying her, as he had wished to in the days of his first ardour.


At that early time Grandcourt would willingly have paid for the freedom to be won by a divorce; but the husband would not oblige him, not wanting to be married again himself, and not wishing to have his domestic habits printed in evidence.

At that early time the husband would not oblige him by divorcing Mrs Glasher.


The altered poise which the years had brought in Mrs. Glasher was just the reverse.


At first she was comparatively careless about the possibility of marriage.

at first careless about the possibility of marriage.


It was enough that she had escaped from a disagreeable husband and found a sort of bliss with a lover who had completely fascinated her--young, handsome, amorous, and living in the best style, with equipage and conversation of the kind to be expected in young men of fortune who have seen everything.

It was enough that she had escaped from a disagreeable husband and found bliss with a lover who had completely fascinated her - young, handsome, amorous, and living in the best style.


She was an impassioned, vivacious woman, fond of adoration, exasperated by five years of marital rudeness; and the sense of release was so strong upon her that it stilled anxiety for more than she actually enjoyed.

She was an impassioned, vivacious woman, fond of adoration, exasperated by five years of marital rudeness as a disregarded wife.


An equivocal position was of no importance to her then; she had no envy for the honors of a dull, disregarded wife: the one spot which spoiled her vision of her new pleasant world, was the sense that she left her three-year-old boy, who died two years afterward, and whose first tones saying "mamma" retained a difference from those of the children that came after.

The one blot on her vision of her new pleasant world, was the knowledge that she left her three-year-old boy, who died two years afterward, and whose first tones saying "mamma" retained a difference from those of the children that came after.


But now the years had brought many changes besides those in the contour of her cheek and throat; and that Grandcourt should marry her had become her dominant desire.

But now, over the changes of the years, the desire that Grandcourt should marry her had become dominant.


The equivocal position which she had not minded about for herself was now telling upon her through her children, whom she loved with a devotion charged with the added passion of atonement.

This was on behalf of her children, whom she loved with a devotion charged with the added passion of atonement.


She had no repentance except in this direction.


If Grandcourt married her, the children would be none the worse off for what had passed: they would see their mother in a dignified position, and they would be at no disadvantage with the world: her son could be made his father's heir.

If Grandcourt married her, the children would be none the worse off for what had passed: they would be at no disadvantage with the world if her son was made his father's heir.


It was the yearning for this result which gave the supreme importance to Grandcourt's feeling for her; her love for him had long resolved itself into anxiety that he should give her the unique, permanent claim of a wife, and she expected no other happiness in marriage than the satisfaction of her maternal love and pride--including her pride for herself in the presence of her children.

Her love for Grandcourt had long resolved itself into anxiety that he should marry her, and for her children's sake she was prepared to endure anything quietly in marriage.


For the sake of that result she was prepared even with a tragic firmness to endure anything quietly in marriage; and she had acuteness enough to cherish Grandcourt's flickering purpose negatively, by not molesting him with passionate appeals and with scene-making.

She was acute enough to cherish Grandcourt's flickering purpose by not molesting him with passionate appeals and scene-making.


In her, as in every one else who wanted anything of him, his incalculable turns, and his tendency to harden under beseeching, had created a reasonable dread:--a slow discovery, of which no presentiment had been given in the bearing of a youthful lover with a fine line of face and the softest manners.

His incalculable turns, and his tendency to harden under beseeching, had created dread in her.


But reticence had necessarily cost something to this impassioned woman, and she was the bitterer for it.


There is no quailing--even that forced on the helpless and injured--which has not an ugly obverse: the withheld sting was gathering venom.

made her bitter: the withheld sting was gathering venom.


She was absolutely dependent on Grandcourt; for though he had been always liberal in expenses for her, he had kept everything voluntary on his part; and with the goal of marriage before her, she would ask for nothing less.

She was absolutely dependent on Grandcourt.


He had said that he would never settle anything except by will; and when she was thinking of alternatives for the future it often occurred to her that, even if she did not become Grandcourt's wife, he might never have a son who would have a legitimate claim on him, and the end might be that her son would be made heir to the best part of his estates.

Though he had always been liberal in expenses for her, he had said that he would never settle anything except by will; and it often occurred to her that, even if she did not become Grandcourt's wife, he might never have a legitimate son; so in the end her boy might be made heir to his estates.


No son at that early age could promise to have more of his father's physique.

No son could promise to have more of his father's physique.


But her becoming Grandcourt's wife was so far from being an extravagant notion of possibility, that even Lush had entertained it, and had said that he would as soon bet on it as on any other likelihood with regard to his familiar companion.

But her becoming Grandcourt's wife was so far from being impossible, that even Lush had thought Grandcourt was as likely to marry Mrs. Glasher as anyone else.


Lush, indeed, on inferring that Grandcourt had a preconception of using his residence at Diplow in order to win Miss Arrowpoint, had thought it well to fan that project, taking it as a tacit renunciation of the marriage with Mrs. Glasher, which had long been a mark for the hovering and wheeling of Grandcourt's caprice.

Indeed, when Lush thought that Grandcourt had an idea of attempting to win Miss Arrowpoint, he had supported that project instead.


But both prospects had been negatived by Gwendolen's appearance on the scene; and it was natural enough for Mrs. Glasher to enter with eagerness into Lush's plan of hindering that new danger by setting up a barrier in the mind of the girl who was being sought as a bride.

But both prospects had been eclipsed by Gwendolen's appearance on the scene; and Mrs. Glasher entered with eagerness into Lush's plan of hindering that new danger by setting up a barrier in Gwendolen's mind.


She entered into it with an eagerness which had passion in it as well as purpose, some of the stored-up venom delivering itself in that way.


After that, she had heard from Lush of Gwendolen's departure, and the probability that all danger from her was got rid of; but there had been no letter to tell her that the danger had returned and had become a certainty.

After that, she had heard from Lush of Gwendolen's departure, and that the danger was gone; but there had been no letter to tell her that the danger had returned and had become a certainty.


She had since then written to Grandcourt, as she did habitually, and he had been longer than usual in answering.


She was inferring that he might intend coming to Gadsmere at the time when he was actually on the way; and she was not without hope--what construction of another's mind is not strong wishing equal to?--that a certain sickening from that frustrated courtship might dispose him to slip the more easily into the old track of intention.

She thought that he might intend coming to see her, and she hoped that a frustrated courtship might dispose him to slip the more easily into his old track.


Grandcourt had two grave purposes in coming to Gadsmere: to convey the news of his approaching marriage in person, in order to make this first difficulty final; and to get from Lydia his mother's diamonds, which long ago he had confided to her and wished her to wear.

Grandcourt had two purposes in coming to Gadsmere: to convey the news of his approaching marriage in person; and to get from Lydia his mother's diamonds, which long ago he had handed to her.


Her person suited diamonds, and made them look as if they were worth some of the money given for them.


These particular diamonds were not mountains of light--they were mere peas and haricots for the ears, neck and hair; but they were worth some thousands, and Grandcourt necessarily wished to have them for his wife.

These particular diamonds were not mountains of light - they were mere peas and haricots for the ears, neck and hair; but they were worth some thousands, and Grandcourt wished to have them for his wife.


Formerly when he had asked Lydia to put them into his keeping again, simply on the ground that they would be safer and ought to be deposited at the bank, she had quietly but absolutely refused, declaring that they were quite safe; and at last had said, "If you ever marry another woman I will give them up to her: are you going to marry another woman?"

Formerly when he had asked Lydia to put them into his keeping again, simply on the ground that they would be safer, she had quietly but absolutely refused, declaring that they were quite safe; and had said, "If you ever marry another woman I will give them up to her."


At that time Grandcourt had no motive which urged him to persist, and he had this grace in him, that the disposition to exercise power either by cowing or disappointing others or exciting in them a rage which they dared not express--a disposition which was active in him as other propensities became languid--had always been in abeyance before Lydia.

At that time Grandcourt had no motive which urged him to persist, and he had this grace in him, that he did not like to exercise his power of cowing or disappointing her as he did with others.


A severe interpreter might say that the mere facts of their relation to each other, the melancholy position of this woman who depended on his will, made a standing banquet for his delight in dominating.


But there was something else than this in his forbearance toward her: there was the surviving though metamorphosed effect of the power she had had over him; and it was this effect, the fitful dull lapse toward solicitations that once had the zest now missing from life, which had again and again inclined him to espouse a familiar past rather than rouse himself to the expectation of novelty.

But there was something more: there was the memory of the power she once had over him, which inclined him to espouse a familiar past rather than rouse himself to the expectation of novelty.


But now novelty had taken hold of him and urged him to make the most of it.


Mrs. Glasher was seated in the pleasant room where she habitually passed her mornings with her children round her.

Mrs. Glasher was seated in the pleasant room where she habitually passed her mornings with her children.


It had a square projecting window and looked on broad gravel and grass, sloping toward a little brook that entered the pool.

The window looked out on broad gravel and grass


The top of a low, black cabinet, the old oak table, the chairs in tawny leather, were littered with the children's toys, books and garden garments, at which a maternal lady in pastel looked down from the walls with smiling indulgence.

; the old oak table was littered with the children's toys and books.


The three girls, seated round their mother near the widow, were miniature portraits of her--dark-eyed, delicate-featured brunettes with a rich bloom on their cheeks, their little nostrils and eyebrows singularly finished as if they were tiny women, the eldest being barely nine.

The three girls, seated round their mother, were miniature portraits of her - dark-eyed, delicate-featured brunettes, the eldest being barely nine.


The boy was seated on the carpet at some distance, bending his blonde head over the animals from a Noah's ark, admonishing them separately in a voice of threatening command, and occasionally licking the spotted ones to see if the colors would hold.

The boy was seated on the carpet, bending his blonde head over the animals from a Noah's ark, admonishing them in a voice of threatening command, and occasionally licking them to see if the colours would hold.


Josephine, the eldest, was having her French lesson; and the others, with their dolls on their laps, sat demurely enough for images of the Madonna.


Mrs. Glasher's toilet had been made very carefully--each day now she said to herself that Grandcourt might come in.

Mrs. Glasher had dressed carefully, for each day now she said to herself that Grandcourt might come.


Her head, which, spite of emaciation, had an ineffaceable beauty in the fine profile, crisp curves of hair, and clearly-marked eyebrows, rose impressively above her bronze-colored silk and velvet, and the gold necklace which Grandcourt had first clasped round her neck years ago.

Her head, which though emaciated, had an ineffaceable beauty, rose impressively above her bronze-coloured silk and velvet, and the gold necklace which Grandcourt had first clasped round her neck years ago.


Not that she had any pleasure in her toilet; her chief thought of herself seen in the glass was, "How changed!"

Not that she had any pleasure in her looks; her chief thought when she looked in the glass was, "How changed!"


--but such good in life as remained to her she would keep.


If her chief wish were fulfilled, she could imagine herself getting the comeliness of a matron fit for the highest rank.


The little faces beside her, almost exact reductions of her own, seemed to tell of the blooming curves which had once been where now was sunken pallor.


But the children kissed the pale cheeks and never found them deficient.


That love was now the one end of her life.