"Talking of Lord Brackenshaw's kindness," said Mrs. Davilow, "you don't know how delightful he has been, Gwendolen. He has begged me to consider myself his guest in this house till I can get another that I like--he did it in the most graceful way.

"Talking of Lord Brackenshaw's kindness," said Mrs. Davilow, "he has begged me to consider myself his guest in this house till I can get another.


Old Mr. Jodson is dead, and we can have his house.

Old Mr. Jodson is dead, and we can have his.


It is just what I want; small, but with nothing hideous to make you miserable thinking about it.


And it is only a mile from the Rectory."


You remember the low white house nearly hidden by the trees, as we turn up the lane to the church?"


"Yes, but you have no furniture, poor mamma," said Gwendolen, in a melancholy tone.

"But you have no furniture, poor mamma," said Gwendolen.


You know who has made me rather rich, dear," said Mrs. Davilow, laying her hand on Gwendolen's.


"And Jocosa really makes so little do for housekeeping--it is quite wonderful."

"And Jocosa really makes so little do for housekeeping - it is quite wonderful."


"Oh, please let me go up-stairs with you and arrange my hat, mamma," said Gwendolen, suddenly putting up her hand to her hair and perhaps creating a desired disarrangement.

"Oh, please let me go upstairs with you and arrange my hat, mamma," said Gwendolen, suddenly putting her hand to her hair.


Her heart was swelling, and she was ready to cry.


Her mother _must_ have been worse off, if it had not been for Grandcourt.

Her mother must have been worse off, if it had not been for Grandcourt.


"I suppose I shall never see all this again," said Gwendolen, looking round her, as they entered the black and yellow bedroom, and then throwing herself into a chair in front of the glass with a little groan as of bodily fatigue.

As they entered the bedroom, she looked around, saying, "I suppose I shall never see all this again," and then throwing herself into a chair in front of the glass with a little groan.


In the resolve not to cry she had become very pale.


"No; that chocolate has made me sick," said Gwendolen, putting up her hand to be taken.


"I should be allowed to come to you if you were ill, darling," said Mrs. Davilow, rather timidly, as she pressed the hand to her bosom.

"I should be allowed to come to you if you were ill, darling," said Mrs. Davilow, rather timidly, as she pressed the hand.


Something had made her sure today that her child loved her--needed her as much as ever.

Something had made her sure today that her child loved and needed her as much as ever.


"Oh, yes," said Gwendolen, leaning her head against her mother, though speaking as lightly as she could.

"Oh, yes," said Gwendolen, leaning her head against her mother, though speaking lightly.


I am as strong as possible; and you must not take to fretting about me, but make yourself as happy as you can with the girls.

I am as strong as possible; and you must not fret about me, but make yourself happy with the girls.


They are better children to you than I have been, you know."


"You have always been good, my darling."


"Why, what did I ever do that was good to you, except marry Mr. Grandcourt?"


said Gwendolen, starting up with a desperate resolve to be playful, and keep no more on the perilous edge of agitation.

said Gwendolen, with a desperate resolve to be playful.


"And I should not have done that unless it had pleased myself."


She tossed up her chin, and reached her hat.


I would not have had you marry for my sake.


"Very well," said Gwendolen, arranging her hat fastidiously, "then you will please to consider that you are half happy, which is more than I am used to seeing you."

"Very well," said Gwendolen, arranging her hat, "then please consider yourself half happy, which is more than I am used to seeing you."


With the last words she again turned with her old playful smile to her mother.

She turned with her old playful smile to her mother.


"Now I am ready; but oh, mamma, Mr. Grandcourt gives me a quantity of money, and expects me to spend it, and I can't spend it; and you know I can't bear charity children and all that; and here are thirty pounds.

"Oh, mamma, Mr. Grandcourt gives me a quantity of money, and expects me to spend it, and I can't; so here are thirty pounds.


I wish the girls would spend it for me on little things for themselves when you go to the new house.

I wish the girls would spend it on little things for themselves when you go to the new house.


Gwendolen put the notes into her mother's hands and looked away hastily, moving toward the door.

Gwendolen put the notes into her mother's hands and moved hastily toward the door.


"God bless you, dear," said Mrs. Davilow.


"It will please them so that you should have thought of them in particular."

"It will please them so that you should have thought of them."


"Oh, they are troublesome things; but they don't trouble me now," said Gwendolen, turning and nodding playfully.

"Oh, they are troublesome things; but they don't trouble me now," said Gwendolen.


She hardly understood her own feeling in this act toward her sisters, but at any rate she did not wish it to be taken as anything serious.

She hardly understood her own feeling in this act toward her sisters, but did not wish it to be taken as anything serious.


She was glad to have got out of the bedroom without showing more signs of emotion, and she went through the rest of her visit and all the good-byes with a quiet propriety that made her say to herself sarcastically as she rode away, "I think I am making a very good Mrs. Grandcourt."

She was glad to get out of the bedroom without showing more emotion, and she went through the rest of her visit with a quiet propriety that made her say to herself sarcastically as she rode away, "I think I am making a very good Mrs. Grandcourt."


She believed that her husband had gone to Gadsmere that day--had inferred this, as she had long ago inferred who were the inmates of what he had described as "a dog-hutch of a place in a black country;" and the strange conflict of feeling within her had had the characteristic effect of sending her to Offendene with a tightened resolve--a form of excitement which was native to her.

She believed that her husband had gone to Gadsmere that day; and the strange conflict of feeling within her had sent her to Offendene with a tightened resolve.


Why should she feel it bitter to her that Grandcourt showed concern for the beings on whose account she herself was undergoing remorse?

Why should she be bitter that Grandcourt showed concern for the beings on whose account she herself was undergoing remorse?


Had she not before her marriage inwardly determined to speak and act on their behalf?--and since he had lately implied that he wanted to be in town because he was making arrangements about his will, she ought to have been glad of any sign that he kept a conscience awake toward those at Gadsmere; and yet, now that she was a wife, the sense that Grandcourt was gone to Gadsmere was like red heat near a burn.

Had she not before her marriage inwardly determined to speak on their behalf? - and since he had lately implied that he wanted to be in town to make arrangements about his will, she ought to have been glad of any sign that he kept a conscience awake toward those at Gadsmere.
Yet the sense that he was gone to Gadsmere was like a burn.


She had brought on herself this indignity in her own eyes--this humiliation of being doomed to a terrified silence lest her husband should discover with what sort of consciousness she had married him; and as she had said to Deronda, she "must go on."

She had brought on herself this indignity - this humiliating terror lest her husband should discover with what knowledge she had married him; and as she had said to Deronda, she "must go on."


After the intense moments of secret hatred toward this husband who from the very first had cowed her, there always came back the spiritual pressure which made submission inevitable.

After the intense moments of secret hatred toward this husband who cowed her, there always came back the spiritual pressure which made submission inevitable.


There was no effort at freedoms that would not bring fresh and worse humiliation.

Any effort at freedom would bring worse humiliation.


Gwendolen could dare nothing except an impulsive action--least of all could she dare premeditatedly a vague future in which the only certain condition was indignity.


In spite of remorse, it still seemed the worst result of her marriage that she should in any way make a spectacle of herself; and her humiliation was lightened by her thinking that only Mrs. Glasher was aware of the fact which caused it.

It still seemed that the worst result would be that she should make a spectacle of herself; and her humiliation was lightened by her thinking that only Mrs. Glasher was aware of the cause.


For Gwendolen had never referred the interview at the Whispering Stones to Lush's agency; her disposition to vague terror investing with shadowy omnipresence any threat of fatal power over her, and so hindering her from imagining plans and channels by which news had been conveyed to the woman who had the poisoning skill of a sorceress.

For Gwendolen did not know about Lush's involvement; she had never considered how news had been conveyed to Mrs. Glasher.


To Gwendolen's mind the secret lay with Mrs. Glasher, and there were words in the horrible letter which implied that Mrs. Glasher would dread disclosure to the husband, as much as the usurping Mrs. Grandcourt.

To her mind the secret lay with Mrs. Glasher only, and she thought the horrible letter implied that Mrs. Glasher would dread disclosure to Grandcourt.


Something else, too, she thought of as more of a secret from her husband than it really was--namely that suppressed struggle of desperate rebellion which she herself dreaded.

Something else, too, she thought of as more secret from her husband than it really was - namely, that suppressed struggle of desperate rebellion within her.


Grandcourt could not indeed fully imagine how things affected Gwendolen: he had no imagination of anything in her but what affected the gratification of his own will; but on this point he had the sensibility which seems like divination.

Grandcourt could not fully imagine how things affected Gwendolen: he had no imagination of anything in her but what affected the gratification of his own will; but on this point he had the sensibility which seems like divination.


What we see exclusively we are apt to see with some mistake of proportions; and Grandcourt was not likely to be infallible in his judgments concerning this wife who was governed by many shadowy powers, to him nonexistent.

What we see exclusively we are apt to see with some mistake of proportions; and Grandcourt was not infallible in his judgments concerning this wife who was governed by many shadowy powers unknown to him.


He magnified her inward resistance, but that did not lessen his satisfaction in the mastery of it.


She held the spindle as she sat, Errina with the thick-coiled mat Of raven hair and deepest agate eyes, Gazing with a sad surprise At surging visions of her destiny-- To spin the byssus drearily In insect-labor, while the throng Of gods and men wrought deeds that poets wrought in song.

Book 7 - THE MOTHER AND THE SON | Chapter 51


When Deronda presented himself at the door of his mother's apartment in the _Italia_ he felt some revival of his boyhood with its premature agitations.

When Deronda presented himself at the door of his mother's apartment he felt some revival of his boyhood agitations.


The two servants in the antechamber looked at him markedly, a little surprised that the doctor their lady had come to consult was this striking young gentleman whose appearance gave even the severe lines of an evening dress the credit of adornment.

The two servants looked a little surprised that the doctor their lady had come to consult was this striking young gentleman in evening dress.


But Deronda could notice nothing until, the second door being opened, he found himself in the presence of a figure which at the other end of the large room stood awaiting his approach.

But Deronda could notice nothing until he found himself in the presence of a figure who stood awaiting his approach.


She was covered, except as to her face and part of her arms, with black lace hanging loosely from the summit of her whitening hair to the long train stretching from her tall figure.

She was covered, except her face and fore-arms, with black lace.


Her arms, naked to the elbow, except for some rich bracelets, were folded before her, and the fine poise of her head made it look handsomer than it really was.

Her arms, adorned with rich bracelets, were folded before her, and the fine poise of her head made it look handsomer than it really was.


But Deronda felt no interval of observation before he was close in front of her, holding the hand she had put out and then raising it to his lips.

Deronda held the hand she had put out and raised it to his lips.


She still kept her hand in his and looked at him examiningly; while his chief consciousness was that her eyes were piercing and her face so mobile that the next moment she might look like a different person.

She looked at him examiningly; he was conscious that her eyes were piercing and her face so mobile that the next moment she might look like a different person.


For even while she was examining him there was a play of the brow and nostril which made a tacit language.


Deronda dared no movement, not able to conceive what sort of manifestation her feeling demanded; but he felt himself changing color like a girl, and yet wondering at his own lack of emotion; he had lived through so many ideal meetings with his mother, and they had seemed more real than this!

Deronda felt himself changing colour, and yet wondering at his own lack of emotion; he had lived through so many ideal meetings with his mother, and they had seemed more real than this!


He could not even conjecture in what language she would speak to him.


Suddenly, she let fall his hand, and placed both hers on his shoulders, while her face gave out a flash of admiration in which every worn line disappeared and seemed to leave a restored youth.

Suddenly, she let fall his hand, and placed both hers on his shoulders, while a flash of admiration in her face seemed to restore its youth.


she said, in a low melodious voice, with syllables which had what might be called a foreign but agreeable outline.

she said, in a low melodious voice, with a foreign but agreeable pronunciation.


Then she kissed him on each cheek, and he returned the kisses.


But it was something like a greeting between royalties.


She paused a moment while the lines were coming back into her face, and then said in a colder tone, "I am your mother.

She paused a moment and then said in a colder tone, "I am your mother.


"I have thought of you more than of any other being in the world," said Deronda, his voice trembling nervously.


"I am not like what you thought I was," said the mother decisively, withdrawing her hands from his shoulders, and folding her arms as before, looking at him as if she invited him to observe her.

"I am not like what you thought I was," said the mother decisively, withdrawing her hands, and folding her arms again, looking at him as if she invited him to observe her.


He had often pictured her face in his imagination as one which had a likeness to his own: he saw some of the likeness now, but amidst more striking differences.

He saw her likeness to himself, but with striking differences.


She was a remarkable looking being. What was it that gave her son a painful sense of aloofness?--Her worn beauty had a strangeness in it as if she were not quite a human mother, but a Melusina, who had ties with some world which is independent of ours.

She was a remarkable looking being, but she gave him a painful sense of aloofness; her worn beauty had a strangeness in it as if she were not quite a human mother, but a Melusina of some other world.


"I used to think that you might be suffering," said Deronda, anxious above all not to wound her.

"I used to think that you might be suffering," he said, anxious not to wound her.


"I used to wish that I could be a comfort to you."

"I used to wish that I could comfort you."


But with a suffering that you can't comfort," said the Princess, in a harder voice than before, moving to a sofa where cushions had been carefully arranged for her.

But with a suffering that you can't comfort," said the Princess, in a harder voice, moving to a sofa.


She pointed to a seat near her; and then discerning some distress in Deronda's face, she added, more gently, "I am not suffering at this moment.

She pointed to a seat near her; and then added, more gently, "I am not suffering at this moment.


Deronda seated himself and waited for her to speak again.


It seemed as if he were in the presence of a mysterious Fate rather than of the longed-for mother.

It seemed as if he were in the presence of a mysterious Fate rather than the longed-for mother.


He was beginning to watch her with wonder, from the spiritual distance to which she had thrown him.


"No," she began: "I did not send for you to comfort me.


I could not know beforehand--I don't know now--what you will feel toward me.

I could not know what you will feel toward me.


I have not the foolish notion that you can love me merely because I am your mother, when you have never seen or heard of me in all your life.

I have not the foolish notion that you can love me merely because I am your mother, when you have never seen me.


But I thought I chose something better for you than being with me.


But I did not think I deprived you of anything worth having."


"You cannot wish me to believe that your affection would not have been worth having," said Deronda, finding that she paused as if she expected him to make some answer.

"You cannot wish me to believe that your affection would not have been worth having," said Deronda.


"I don't mean to speak ill of myself," said the princess, with proud impetuosity, "But I had not much affection to give you.

"I don't mean to speak ill of myself," said the princess proudly, "But I had not much affection to give you.


I wanted to live out the life that was in me, and not to be hampered with other lives.


She rose with a sudden movement, and stood as she had done before. Deronda immediately rose too; he felt breathless.

She rose with a sudden movement, and Deronda rose too; he felt breathless.


"No princess in this tame life that I live in now.


"I was a great singer, and I acted as well as I sang.


Men followed me from one country to another.


There was a passionate self-defence in her tone.


She had cast all precedent out of her mind.


Precedent had no excuse for her and she could only seek a justification in the intensest words she could find for her experience.


She seemed to fling out the last words against some possible reproach in the mind of her son, who had to stand and hear them--clutching his coat-collar as if he were keeping himself above water by it, and feeling his blood in the sort of commotion that might have been excited if he had seen her going through some strange rite of a religion which gave a sacredness to crime.

She seemed to fling out the last words against some possible reproach in the mind of her son, who had to stand and hear them - clutching his coat-collar as if he were keeping himself above water by it.


She went on with the same intensity and a sort of pale illumination in her face.


I was forced into marrying your father--forced, I mean, by my father's wishes and commands; and besides, it was my best way of getting some freedom.

I was forced into marrying by my father's commands; and besides, it was my best way of getting some freedom.


I could rule my husband, but not my father.


I had a right to seek my freedom from a bondage that I hated."

I had a right to seek freedom from a bondage that I hated."


She seated herself again, while there was that subtle movement in her eyes and closed lips which is like the suppressed continuation of speech. Deronda continued standing, and after a moment or two she looked up at him with a less defiant pleading as she said,

She seated herself again, and after a moment looked up at him with a less defiant pleading as she said-


"And the bondage I hated for myself I wanted to keep you from.

"I wanted to keep you from that bondage that I hated.


What better could the most loving mother have done?


I relieved you from the bondage of having been born a Jew."

I relieved you from the bondage of being born a Jew."


Deronda burst out with a deep-voiced energy that made his mother shrink a little backward against her cushions.


"My father was a Jew, and you are a Jewess?"


"Yes, your father was my cousin," said the mother, watching him with a change in her look, as if she saw something that she might have to be afraid of.

"Yes, your father was my cousin," said the mother, watching him as if she saw something that she might have to be afraid of.


"I am glad of it," said Deronda, impetuously, in the veiled voice of passion.


He could not have imagined beforehand how he would have come to say that which he had never hitherto admitted.


He could not have dreamed that it would be in impulsive opposition to his mother.

He could not have dreamed beforehand that he would say that in opposition to his mother.


He was shaken by a mixed anger which no reflection could come soon enough to check, against this mother who it seemed had borne him unwillingly, had willingly made herself a stranger to him, and--perhaps--was now making herself known unwillingly.

He was shaken by a mixed anger against this woman, who it seemed had borne him unwillingly, had willingly made herself a stranger to him, and perhaps was now making herself known unwillingly.


This last suspicion seemed to flash some explanation over her speech.


But the mother was equally shaken by an anger differently mixed, and her frame was less equal to any repression. The shaking with her was visibly physical, and her eyes looked the larger for her pallid excitement as she said violently,

But the mother was equally shaken by an anger differently mixed, and with her the shaking was visible. She said violently-


How could you choose my birthright for me?"


said Deronda, throwing himself sideways into his chair again, almost unconsciously, and leaning his arm over the back, while he looked away from his mother.

said Deronda, throwing himself into his chair again, while he looked away.


He was fired with an intolerance that seemed foreign to him.


But he was now trying hard to master himself and keep silence.

He was now trying hard to master himself and keep silence.


A horror had swept in upon his anger lest he should say something too hard in this moment which made an epoch never to be recalled.

A horror had swept in upon his anger lest he should say something too hard in this unique moment.


There was a pause before his mother spoke again, and when she spoke her voice had become more firmly resistant in its finely varied tones:

There was a pause before his mother spoke again, in firmly resistant tones:


"I chose for you what I would have chosen for myself.


How could I know that you would have the spirit of my father in you?


How could I know that you would love what I hated?--if you really love to be a Jew."

How could I know that you would love what I hated?- if you really love to be a Jew."


The last words had such bitterness in them that any one overhearing might have supposed some hatred had arisen between the mother and son.

The last words held such bitterness that any listener might have supposed some hatred had arisen between mother and son.


But Deronda had recovered his fuller self.


He was recalling his sensibilities to what life had been and actually was for her whose best years were gone, and who with the signs of suffering in her frame was now exerting herself to tell him of a past which was not his alone but also hers.

He was recalling what life was like for her whose best years were gone, and who with a suffering frame was now exerting herself to tell him of a past which was not his alone but also hers.


His habitual shame at the acceptance of events as if they were his only, helped him even here.


As he looked at his mother silently after her last words, his face regained some of its penetrative calm; yet it seemed to have a strangely agitating influence over her: her eyes were fixed on him with a sort of fascination, but not with any repose of maternal delight.

His face regained some of its penetrative calm; yet it seemed to have a strangely agitating influence over her: her eyes were fixed on him with a sort of fascination.


"Forgive me, if I speak hastily," he said, with diffident gravity.

"Forgive me, if I speak hastily," he said.


"Why have you resolved now on disclosing to me what you took care to have me brought up in ignorance of?

"Why have you resolved now on disclosing the facts to me?


Why--since you seem angry that I should be glad?"

Why - since you seem angry that I should be glad?"


said the Princess, with a ring of something like sarcastic scorn.

said the Princess, with sarcastic scorn.


"When you are as old as I am, it will not seem so simple a question--'Why did you do this?'

"When you are as old as I am, it will not seem so simple a question.


People talk of their motives in a cut and dried way.


Every woman is supposed to have the same set of motives, or else to be a monster.


I am not a monster, but I have not felt exactly what other women feel--or say they feel, for fear of being thought unlike others.

I am not a monster, but I have not felt exactly what other women feel - or say they feel, for fear of being thought unlike others.


When you reproach me in your heart for sending you away from me, you mean that I ought to say I felt about you as other women say they feel about their children.

When you reproach me for sending you away, you mean that I ought to say I felt about you as other women say they feel about their children.


But I did well for you, and I gave you your father's fortune.


Do I seem now to be revoking everything?--Well, there are reasons. I feel many things that I cannot understand. A fatal illness has been growing in me for a year.

As for reasons, a fatal illness has been growing in me for a year.


I shall very likely not live another year.


I will not pretend to love where I have no love.


If I have wronged the dead--I have but little time to do what I left undone."

If I have wronged the dead - I have but little time to do what I left undone."


The varied transitions of tone with which this speech was delivered were as perfect as the most accomplished actress could have made them.


The speech was in fact a piece of what may be called sincere acting; this woman's nature was one in which all feeling--and all the more when it was tragic as well as real--immediately became matter of conscious representation: experience immediately passed into drama, and she acted her own emotions.

The speech was in fact a piece of sincere acting; this woman's nature was one in which all feeling and experience immediately passed into drama, and she acted her own emotions.


In a minor degree this is nothing uncommon, but in the Princess the acting had a rare perfection of physiognomy, voice, and gesture.


It would not be true to say that she felt less because of this double consciousness: she felt--that is, her mind went through--all the more, but with a difference; each nucleus of pain or pleasure had a deep atmosphere of the excitement or spiritual intoxication which at once exalts and deadens.

It would not be true to say that she felt less because of this: she felt all the more, but with a difference; each pain or pleasure had a deep atmosphere of the spiritual intoxication which at once exalts and deadens.


But Deronda made no reflection of this kind.


All his thoughts hung on the purport of what his mother was saying; her tones and her wonderful face entered into his agitation without being noted.

All his thoughts hung on his mother's meaning.


What he longed for with an awed desire was to know as much as she would tell him of the strange mental conflict under which it seemed he had been brought into the world; what his compassionate nature made the controlling idea within him were the suffering and the confession that breathed through her later words, and these forbade any further question, when she paused and remained silent, with her brow knit, her head turned a little away from him, and her large eyes fixed as if on something incorporeal.

He longed for her to tell him of the strange mental conflict under which it seemed he had been brought into the world; but his compassionate nature forbade any further question. She paused, with her brow knit, her head turned away.


She did so with strange abruptness, turning her eyes upon him suddenly, and saying more quickly,

She did so with strange abruptness, turning her eyes upon him suddenly, and saying-


He tells me you have a wonderful mind--you comprehend everything--you are wiser than he is with all his sixty years.

He tells me you have a wonderful mind - you are wiser than he is with all his sixty years.


You say you are glad to know that you were born a Jew.

You say you are glad that you were born a Jew.


I am not going to tell you that I have changed my mind about that.


Shall you comprehend your mother, or only blame her?"


"There is not a fibre within me but makes me wish to comprehend her," said Deronda, meeting her sharp gaze solemnly.

"I wish only to comprehend her," said Deronda, meeting her sharp gaze solemnly.


"It is a bitter reversal of my longing to think of blaming her.


What I have been most trying to do for fifteen years is to have some understanding of those who differ from myself."

What I have been trying to do for fifteen years is to have some understanding of those who differ from myself."


"Then you have become unlike your grandfather in that." said the mother, "though you are a young copy of him in your face.

"Then you are unlike your grandfather," she said, "though you look like him.


He never comprehended me, or if he did, he only thought of fettering me into obedience.

He never comprehended me; he only thought of fettering me into obedience.


I was to be what he called 'the Jewish woman' under pain of his curse. I was to feel everything I did not feel, and believe everything I did not believe.

I was to be what he called 'the Jewish woman': to feel everything I did not feel, and believe everything I did not believe.


I was to feel awe for the bit of parchment in the _mezuza_ over the door; to dread lest a bit of butter should touch a bit of meat; to think it beautiful that men should bind the _tephillin_ on them, and women not,--to adore the wisdom of such laws, however silly they might seem to me.

I was to feel awe for the bit of parchment in the mezuza over the door; to dread lest a bit of butter should touch a bit of meat;- to adore the wisdom of such silly laws.


I was to love the long prayers in the ugly synagogue, and the howling, and the gabbling, and the dreadful fasts, and the tiresome feasts, and my father's endless discoursing about our people, which was a thunder without meaning in my ears.

I was to love the long prayers in the ugly synagogue, and the dreadful fasts, and the tiresome feasts, and my father's endless discoursing about our people, which was a thunder without meaning in my ears.


I was to care forever about what Israel had been; and I did not care at all. I cared for the wide world, and all that I could represent in it.

I did not care about Israel: I cared for the wide world.


I hated living under the shadow of my father's strictness.


Teaching, teaching for everlasting--'this you must be,' 'that you must not be'--pressed on me like a frame that got tighter and tighter as I grew.

'You must be this,' 'you must not be that' pressed on me like a frame that got tighter and tighter as I grew.


I wanted to live a large life, with freedom to do what every one else did, and be carried along in a great current, not obliged to care.


--here her tone changed to one of a more bitter incisiveness--"you are glad to have been born a Jew. You say so. That is because you have not been brought up as a Jew.

- her tone changed to bitter incisiveness - "you are glad to have been born a Jew, because you were not brought up as a Jew.


That separateness seems sweet to you because I saved you from it."

It seems sweet to you because I saved you from it."


"When you resolved on that, you meant that I should never know my origin?"

"Did you mean that I should never know my origin?"


"You have at least changed in your feeling on that point."

"You have changed your mind on that point."


"Yes, that was what I meant. That is what I persevered in.


And it is not true to say that I have changed.


I am still the same Leonora"--she pointed with her forefinger to her breast--"here within me is the same desire, the same will, the same choice, _but_"--she spread out her hands, palm upward, on each side of her, as she paused with a bitter compression of her lip, then let her voice fall into muffled, rapid utterance--"events come upon us like evil enchantments: and thoughts, feelings, apparitions in the darkness are events--are they not?

I am still the same Leonora" - she pointed with her forefinger to her breast - "here within me is the same will, but events come upon us like evil enchantments.


I obey something tyrannic"--she spread out her hands again--"I am forced to be withered, to feel pain, to be dying slowly.

I obey something tyrannic: I am forced to feel pain, to be dying slowly.


Well, I have been forced to obey my dead father.


I have been forced to tell you that you are a Jew, and deliver to you what he commanded me to deliver."


"I beseech you to tell me what moved you--when you were young, I mean--to take the course you did," said Deronda, trying by this reference to the past to escape from what to him was the heart-rending piteousness of this mingled suffering and defiance.

"Please tell me what moved you to take the course you did," said Deronda, trying to escape the heart-rending piteousness of this suffering and defiance.


"I gather that my grandfather opposed your bent to be an artist.

"I gather that my grandfather opposed your wish to be an artist.


Though my own experience has been quite different, I enter into the painfulness of your struggle.


I can imagine the hardship of an enforced renunciation."

I can imagine the hardship of your struggle."


"No," said the Princess, shaking her head and folding her arms with an air of decision.

"No," said the Princess, shaking her head and folding her arms.


You may try--but you can never imagine what it is to have a man's force of genius in you, and yet to suffer the slavery of being a girl.

You may try - but you can never imagine what it is to have a man's force of genius in you, and yet to suffer the slavery of being a girl.


To have a pattern cut out--'this is the Jewish woman; this is what you must be; this is what you are wanted for; a woman's heart must be of such a size and no larger, else it must be pressed small, like Chinese feet; her happiness is to be made as cakes are, by a fixed receipt.'

To have a pattern cut out - 'this is the Jewish woman; this is what you must be; a woman's heart must be of such a size and no larger, else it must be pressed small, like Chinese feet; her happiness is to be made as cakes are, by a fixed recipe.'


He wished I had been a son; he cared for me as a make-shift link.


He hated that Jewish women should be thought of by the Christian world as a sort of ware to make public singers and actresses of.

He hated that Jewish women should be singers and actresses for the Christian world.


As if we were not the more enviable for that! That is a chance of escaping from bondage."

As if we were not the more enviable for that chance of escaping from bondage!"


said Deronda, eager to know particulars that he feared his mother might not think of.


She answered impatiently, putting up her hand, "Oh, yes,--and a clever physician--and good: I don't deny that he was good.

She answered impatiently, "Oh, yes, a clever physician - and good: I don't deny that.


A man to be admired in a play--grand, with an iron will.

A man to be admired in a play - grand, with an iron will.


But such men turn their wives and daughters into slaves.


They would rule the world if they could; but not ruling the world, they throw all the weight of their will on the necks and souls of women.

They would rule the world if they could; but since they cannot, they throw all the weight of their will onto women.


My father had no other child than his daughter, and she was like himself."

My father had no other child, and I was like himself.


She had folded her arms again, and looked as if she were ready to face some impending attempt at mastery.


Unlike me--all lovingness and affection.

Unlike me - all lovingness and affection.


I knew I could rule him; and I made him secretly promise me, before I married him, that he would put no hindrance in the way of my being an artist.

I knew I could rule him; and I made him secretly promise me, before I married him, that he would not hinder my being an artist.


My father was on his deathbed when we were married: from the first he had fixed his mind on my marrying my cousin Ephraim.


And when a woman's will is as strong as the man's who wants to govern her, half her strength must be concealment.


I meant to have my will in the end, but I could only have it by seeming to obey.


I had an awe of my father--always I had had an awe of him: it was impossible to help it. I hated to feel awed--I wished I could have defied him openly; but I never could. It was what I could not imagine: I could not act it to myself that I should begin to defy my father openly and succeed.

I was in awe of my father - I wished I could defy him openly; but I knew I could not succeed in that.


This last sentence was uttered with an abrupt emphasis, and she paused after it as if the words had raised a crowd of remembrances which obstructed speech.

This last sentence was uttered with abrupt emphasis.


Her son was listening to her with feelings more and more highly mixed; the first sense of being repelled by the frank coldness which had replaced all his preconceptions of a mother's tender joy in the sight of him; the first impulses of indignation at what shocked his most cherished emotions and principles--all these busy elements of collision between them were subsiding for a time, and making more and more room for that effort at just allowance and that admiration of a forcible nature whose errors lay along high pathways, which he would have felt if, instead of being his mother, she had been a stranger who had appealed to his sympathy.

Her son was listening to her with feelings more and more highly mixed; the first sense of being repelled by her frank coldness; the indignation at what shocked his most cherished principles - these feelings were subsiding, and making room for that effort at just allowance and admiration of a forcible nature which he would have felt if she had been a stranger.


Still it was impossible to be dispassionate: he trembled lest the next thing she had to say would be more repugnant to him than what had gone before: he was afraid of the strange corcion she seemed to be under to lay her mind bare: he almost wished he could say, "Tell me only what is necessary," and then again he felt the fascination which made him watch her and listen to her eagerly.

Still it was impossible to be dispassionate: he trembled lest her next words should be still more repugnant to him. He almost wished he could say, "Tell me only what is necessary," and yet he felt a fascination which made him listen eagerly.


He tried to recall her to particulars by asking,


"Here in Genoa, where I was married; and his family had lived here generations ago.

"Here in Genoa; and his family lived here generations ago.


But my father had been in various countries."


"You must surely have lived in England?"


"My mother was English--a Jewess of Portuguese descent.

"My mother was English - a Jewess of Portuguese descent.


Certain circumstances of that marriage made all the difference in my life: through that marriage my father thwarted his own plans.

Through that marriage he thwarted his own plans.


My mother's sister was a singer, and afterward she married the English partner of a merchant's house here in Genoa, and they came and lived here eleven years.

My mother's sister was a singer who married a merchant of Genoa, and they lived here.


My mother died when I was eight years old, and my father allowed me to be continually with my Aunt Leonora and be taught under her eyes, as if he had not minded the danger of her encouraging my wish to be a singer, as she had been.

My mother died when I was eight, and my father allowed me to be with my Aunt Leonora and be taught here, as if he had not minded her encouraging my wish to be a singer.


But this was it--I saw it again and again in my father:--he did not guard against consequences, because he felt sure he could hinder them if he liked.

But I saw it again and again in my father:- he did not guard against consequences, because he felt sure he could hinder them if he liked.


Before my aunt left Genoa, I had had enough teaching to bring out the born singer and actress within me: my father did not know everything that was done; but he knew that I was taught music and singing--he knew my inclination.


That was nothing to him: he meant that I should obey his will.


And he was resolved that I should marry my cousin Ephraim, the only one left of my father's family that he knew.

And he was resolved that I should marry my cousin Ephraim.


I wanted not to marry. I thought of all plans to resist it, but at last I found that I could rule my cousin, and I consented.

I wanted not to marry, but I found that I could rule my cousin, and I consented.


My father died three weeks after we were married, and then I had my way!"


She uttered these words almost exultantly; but after a little pause her face changed, and she said in a biting tone, "It has not lasted, though.

She uttered these words almost exultantly; but after a little pause her face changed, and she said bitingly, "It has not lasted, though.


She began to look more contemplatively again at her son, and presently said,

She looked more contemplatively at her son, and said-


"You are like him--but milder--there is something of your own father in you; and he made it the labor of his life to devote himself to me: wound up his money-changing and banking, and lived to wait upon me--he went against his conscience for me.

"You are like him - but milder - there is something of your own father in you; and he devoted himself to me. He wound up his money-changing and banking, and lived to wait upon me.


As I loved the life of my art, so he loved me.


Let me look at your hand again: the hand with the ring on.

Let me look at your hand again, with the ring on.


He drew his chair nearer to her and gave her his hand.


We know what kind of a hand it was: her own, very much smaller, was of the same type.


As he felt the smaller hand holding his, as he saw nearer to him the face that held the likeness of his own, aged not by time but by intensity, the strong bent of his nature toward a reverential tenderness asserted itself above every other impression and in his most fervent tone he said,

As he felt the smaller hand holding his, as he saw nearer to him the face so like his own, his tender nature made him say fervently-


take us all into your heart--the living and the dead.

take us all into your heart - the living and the dead.


Forgive every thing that hurts you in the past.


She looked at him admiringly rather than lovingly, then kissed him on the brow, and saying sadly, "I reject nothing, but I have nothing to give," she released his hand and sank back on her cushions.


Deronda turned pale with what seems always more of a sensation than an emotion--the pain of repulsed tenderness. She noticed the expression of pain, and said, still with melodious melancholy in her tones,

Deronda turned pale; and noticing this, she said-


We must part again soon and you owe me no duties.

We must part again soon, and you owe me no duties.


When your father died I resolved that I would have no more ties, but such as I could free myself from.

When your father died I resolved that I would have no more ties.


I was the Alcharisi you have heard of: the name had magic wherever it was carried. Men courted me.

I was the singer Alcharisi you have heard of: men courted me.


Sir Hugo Mallinger was one who wished to marry me.


"One day I asked him, 'Is there a man capable of doing something for love of me, and expecting nothing in return?'


I said, 'Take my boy and bring him up as an Englishman, and never let him know anything about his parents.'


You were little more than two years old, and were sitting on his foot.


He declared that he would pay money to have such a boy.


I had not meditated much on the plan beforehand, but as soon as I had spoken about it, it took possession of me as something I could not rest without doing.


At first he thought I was not serious, but I convinced him, and he was never surprised at anything.

At first he thought I was not serious, but I convinced him.


He agreed that it would be for your good, and the finest thing for you.

He agreed that it would be for your good.


A great singer and actress is a queen, but she gives no royalty to her son.


And afterward I made Sir Hugo the trustee of your fortune.

"I made Sir Hugo the trustee of your fortune.


That is what I did; and I had a joy in doing it.


My father had tyrannized over me--he cared more about a grandson to come than he did about me: I counted as nothing.

My father had tyrannized over me - he cared more about a grandson to come than he did about me: I counted as nothing.


You were to be such a Jew as he; you were to be what he wanted.


But you were my son, and it was my turn to say what you should be.


I said you should not know you were a Jew."


"And for months events have been preparing me to be glad that I am a Jew," said Deronda, his opposition roused again.


The point touched the quick of his experience.


"It would always have been better that I should have known the truth.

"It would have been better if I had known the truth.


I have always been rebelling against the secrecy that looked like shame.


It is no shame to have Jewish parents--the shame is to disown it."

It is no shame to have Jewish parents - the shame is to disown it."


"You say it was a shame to me, then, that I used that secrecy," said his mother, with a flash of new anger. "There is no shame attaching to me. I have no reason to be ashamed.

"I have no reason to be ashamed," said his mother, with a flash of new anger.


I rid myself of the Jewish tatters and gibberish that make people nudge each other at sight of us, as if we were tattooed under our clothes, though our faces are as whole as theirs.

"I rid myself of the Jewish gibberish that makes people nudge each other at sight of us.


I delivered you from the pelting contempt that pursues Jewish separateness.


"Then why have you now undone the secrecy?--no, not undone it--the effects will never be undone.


But why have you now sent for me to tell me that I am a Jew?"

Why have you now sent for me to tell me that I am a Jew?"


said Deronda, with an intensity of opposition in feeling that was almost bitter.


It seemed as if her words had called out a latent obstinacy of race in him.


said the Princess, rising quickly and walking to the other side of the room, where she turned round and slowly approached him, as he, too, stood up.

said the Princess, rising quickly and walking across the room.


Then she began to speak again in a more veiled voice.


"I can't explain; I can only say what is.


I don't love my father's religion now any more than I did then.


Before I married the second time I was baptized; I made myself like the people I lived among.


I had a right to do it; I was not like a brute, obliged to go with my own herd.


I have not repented; I will not say that I have repented.


But yet"--here she had come near to her son, and paused; then again retreated a little and stood still, as if resolute not to give way utterly to an imperious influence; but, as she went on speaking, she became more and more unconscious of anything but the awe that subdued her voice. "It is illness, I don't doubt that it has been gathering illness--my mind has gone back: more than a year ago it began.

But yet" - here she stood still, her voice subdued - "It is illness, I don't doubt - my mind has gone back.


You see my gray hair, my worn look: it has all come fast.


Sometimes I am in an agony of pain--I dare say I shall be to-night.

Sometimes I am in an agony of pain - I dare say I shall be to-night.


Then it is as if all the life I have chosen to live, all thoughts, all will, forsook me and left me alone in spots of memory, and I can't get away: my pain seems to keep me there.

Then it is as if my will forsakes me and leaves me alone in memories, and I can't get away: my pain keeps me there.


My childhood--my girlhood--the day of my marriage--the day of my father's death--there seems to be nothing since.

My childhood - my wedding day - the day of my father's death - there seems to be nothing since.


Then a great horror comes over me: what do I know of life or death?


and what my father called 'right' may be a power that is laying hold of me--that is clutching me now.


I cannot go into the darkness without satisfying him.

I cannot go into the darkness without satisfying my father.


I thought once I would burn it. I have not burned it. I thank God I have not burned it!"

I thought once I would burn it, but I have not burned it, I thank God!"


She threw herself on her cushions again, visibly fatigued.


Deronda, moved too strongly by her suffering for other impulses to act within him, drew near her, and said, entreatingly,

Deronda, moved strongly by her suffering, entreated-


"Will you not spare yourself this evening?


"I will confess it all, now that I have come up to it.


Often when I am at ease it all fades away; my whole self comes quite back; but I know it will sink away again, and the other will come--the poor, solitary, forsaken remains of self, that can resist nothing. It was my nature to resist, and say, 'I have a right to resist.' Well, I say so still when I have any strength in me. You have heard me say it, and I don't withdraw it. But when my strength goes, some other right forces itself upon me like iron in an inexorable hand; and even when I am at ease, it is beginning to make ghosts upon the daylight.

Often when I am at ease it fades away; my whole self comes back; but when my strength goes, some other right forces itself upon me like iron in an inexorable hand. Even when I am at ease, it is beginning to make ghosts upon the daylight.


And now you have made it worse for me," she said, with a sudden return of impetuosity; "but I shall have told you everything.


And what reproach is there against me," she added bitterly, "since I have made you glad to be a Jew?


Joseph Kalonymos reproached me: he said you had been turned into a proud Englishman, who resented being touched by a Jew.


she ended, with a new marvelous alternation.


It was as if her mind were breaking into several, one jarring the other into impulsive action.


said Deronda, with a darting recollection of that Jew who touched his arm in the Frankfort synagogue.

said Deronda, recalling the Jew who touched his arm in the Frankfort synagogue.


some vengeance sent him back from the East, that he might see you and come to reproach me.


He knew of your birth: he knew of my husband's death, and once, twenty years ago, after he had been away in the Levant, he came to see me and inquire about you.

He knew of your birth: he knew of my husband's death, and twenty years ago, he came to see me and inquire about you.


I told him that you were dead: I meant you to be dead to all the world of my childhood.


If I had said that you were living, he would have interfered with my plans: he would have taken on him to represent my father, and have tried to make me recall what I had done. What could I do but say you were dead? The act was done. If I had told him of it there would have been trouble and scandal--and all to conquer me, who would not have been conquered.

If I had said that you were living, he would have interfered with my plans, and caused trouble.


I was strong then, and I would have had my will, though there might have been a hard fight against me.


I took the way to have it without any fight.


I felt then that I was not really deceiving: it would have come to the same in the end; or if not to the same, to something worse.


He believed me and begged that I would give up to him the chest that my father had charged me and my husband to deliver to our eldest son.


I knew what was in the chest--things that had been dinned in my ears since I had had any understanding--things that were thrust on my mind that I might feel them like a wall around my life--my life that was growing like a tree.

I knew what was in the chest - things that had been dinned in my ears since I had any understanding.


Once, after my husband died, I was going to burn the chest.

Once, after my husband died, I was going to burn it.


But it was difficult to burn; and burning a chest and papers looks like a shameful act.


I have committed no shameful act--except what Jews would call shameful.


So I had kept the chest, and I gave it to Joseph Kalonymos.


He went away mournful, and said, 'If you marry again, and if another grandson is born to him who is departed, I will deliver up the chest to him.'

He went away mournful, saying, 'If you marry again, and if another grandson is born to him who is departed, I will deliver up the chest to him.'


I meant not to marry again--no more than I meant to be the shattered woman that I am now."


She ceased speaking, and her head sank back while she looked vaguely before her. Her thought was traveling through the years, and when she began to speak again her voice had lost its argumentative spirit, and had fallen into a veiled tone of distress.

She ceased speaking, and looked vaguely before her: her thought was travelling through the years. When she spoke again, it was in a tone of distress.


"But months ago this Kalonymos saw you in the synagogue at Frankfort.


He saw you enter the hotel, and he went to ask your name.


There was nobody else in the world to whom the name would have told anything about me."

There was nobody else in the world to whom the name meant anything."


said Deronda, with a dislike even to this trifling part of the disguise which had been thrown round him.


"Oh, as real as another," said his mother, indifferently.


"The Jews have always been changing their names.


My father's family had kept the name of Charisi: my husband was a Charisi. When I came out as a singer, we made it Alcharisi.

My husband was a Charisi; when I came out as a singer, we made it Alcharisi.


But there had been a branch of the family my father had lost sight of who called themselves Deronda, and when I wanted a name for you, and Sir Hugo said, 'Let it be a foreign name,' I thought of Deronda.

But there had been an obscure branch of the family who called themselves Deronda, and when I wanted a name for you, I thought of Deronda.


But Joseph Kalonymos had heard my father speak of the Deronda branch, and the name confirmed his suspicion.


It was as if everything had been whispered to him in the air.


He took a journey into Russia to see me; he found me weak and shattered.

He journeyed into Russia to see me; he found me weak and shattered.


He had come back again, with his white hair, and with rage in his soul against me. He said I was going down to the grave clad in falsehood and robbery--falsehood to my father and robbery of my own child.

He raged against me, and said I was going down to the grave clad in falsehood.


He accused me of having kept the knowledge of your birth from you, and having brought you up as if you had been the son of an English gentleman.


Well, it was true; and twenty years before I would have maintained that I had a right to do it.


This man's words were like lion's teeth upon me.

His words were like lion's teeth upon me.


My father's threats eat into me with my pain.


If I tell everything--if I deliver up everything--what else can be demanded of me?

If I tell everything - what else can be demanded of me?


I cannot make myself love the people I have never loved--is it not enough that I lost the life I did love?"

I cannot make myself love the people I have never loved - is it not enough that I lost the life I did love?"


She had leaned forward a little in her low-toned pleading, that seemed like a smothered cry: her arms and hands were stretched out at full length, as if strained in beseeching, Deronda's soul was absorbed in the anguish of compassion.

She had leaned forward in pleading, her arms and hands stretched out beseechingly. Deronda's soul was absorbed in the anguish of compassion.


He could not mind now that he had been repulsed before.


His pity made a flood of forgiveness within him.


His single impulse was to kneel by her and take her hand gently, between his palms, while he said in that exquisite voice of soothing which expresses oneness with the sufferer,

He knelt by her and took her hand gently, saying,


She did not seem inclined to repulse him now, but looked down at him and let him take both her hands to fold between his.

She did not repulse him now, but let him fold her hands in his.


Gradually tears gathered, but she pressed her handkerchief against her eyes and then leaned her cheek against his brow, as if she wished that they should not look at each other.

Gradually tears gathered: she pressed her handkerchief against her eyes and then leaned her cheek against his brow, as if she wished that they should not look at each other.


"Is it not possible that I could be near you often and comfort you?"


He was under that stress of pity that propels us on sacrifices.


"No, not possible," she answered, lifting up her head again and withdrawing her hand as if she wished him to move away.

"No," she answered, withdrawing her hand.


"You wonder why I married," she went on presently, under the influence of a newly-recurring thought.

"You wonder why I married," she went on presently.


I meant to be free and to live for my art.


Another woman was thrusting herself in my place.


I could not endure the prospect of failure and decline.


She started up again, with a shudder, and lifted screening hands like one who dreads missiles.


I made believe that I preferred being the wife of a Russian noble to being the greatest lyric actress of Europe; I made believe--I acted that part.

I made believe that I preferred being the wife of a Russian noble to being the greatest lyric actress of Europe.


It was because I felt my greatness sinking away from me, as I feel my life sinking now.

I acted that part because I felt my greatness sinking away, as I feel my life sinking now.


I would not wait till men said, 'She had better go.'"


She sank into her seat again, and looked at the evening sky as she went on: "I repented.

Looking at the evening sky, she went on: "I repented.


That singing out of tune was only like a fit of illness; it went away. I repented; but it was too late.

That singing out of tune was only like a fit of illness; it went, and I repented; but it was too late.


A new haggardness had come in her face, but her son refrained from again urging her to leave further speech till the morrow: there was evidently some mental relief for her in an outpouring such as she could never have allowed herself before.


He stood still while she maintained silence longer than she knew, and the light was perceptibly fading. At last she turned to him and said,

The light was perceptibly fading as she turned to him and said-


She put out her hand, but then quickly withdrew it saying, "Stay.


I cannot bear to be seen when I am in pain."


She drew forth a pocket-book, and taking out a letter said, "This is addressed to the banking-house in Mainz, where you are to go for your grandfather's chest.

She drew forth a pocket-book, and took out a letter. "This is addressed to the banking-house in Mainz, where you are to go for your grandfather's chest.


It is a letter written by Joseph Kalonymos: if he is not there himself, this order of his will be obeyed."

It is a letter written by Joseph Kalonymos."


When Deronda had taken the letter, she said, with effort but more gently than before, "Kneel again, and let me kiss you."

Then she said, with effort but more gently than before, "Kneel again, and let me kiss you."


He obeyed, and holding his head between her hands, she kissed him solemnly on the brow.

He obeyed, and she kissed him solemnly on the brow.


"You see, I had no life left to love you with," she said, in a low murmur.


They can never accuse me of robbery there."


"If you had needed anything I would have worked for you," said Deronda, conscious of disappointed yearning--a shutting out forever from long early vistas of affectionate imagination.

"If you had needed anything I would have worked for you," said Deronda, conscious of a shutting out forever from long vistas of affectionate imagination.


"I need nothing that the skill of man can give me," said his mother, still holding his head, and perusing his features.

"I need nothing that man can give me," said his mother, perusing his features.


"But perhaps now I have satisfied my father's will, your face will come instead of his--your young, loving face."

"But perhaps now I have satisfied my father's will, your face will come instead of his - your young, loving face."


Ever in his soul That larger justice which makes gratitude Triumphed above resentment.


'Tis the mark Of regal natures, with the wider life.


And fuller capability of joy:-- Not wits exultant in the strongest lens To show you goodness vanished into pulp Never worth "thank you"--they're the devil's friars, Vowed to be poor as he in love and trust, Yet must go begging of a world that keeps Some human property.


Deronda, in parting from Gwendolen, had abstained from saying, "I shall not see you again for a long while: I am going away," lest Grandcourt should understand him to imply that the fact was of importance to her.

Deronda, in parting from Gwendolen, did not tell her he was going away, lest Grandcourt should infer that the fact was important to her.


He was actually going away under circumstances so momentous to himself that when he set out to fulfill his promise of calling on her, he was already under the shadow of a solemn emotion which revived the deepest experience of his life.

He was actually going abroad under circumstances so momentous that when he called on her, he was already affected by solemn emotion.


Sir Hugo had sent for him to his chambers with the note--"Come immediately.

Sir Hugo had sent a note to his chambers- "Come immediately.


Something has happened:" a preparation that caused him some relief when, on entering the baronet's study, he was received with grave affection instead of the distress which he had apprehended.

Something has happened." Expecting bad news on entering the baronet's study, he was relieved to be received with affection.


said Deronda, in a tone rather of restored confidence than question, as he took the hand held out to him.


There was an unusual meaning in Sir Hugo's look, and a subdued emotion in his voice, as he said,

However, there was a subdued emotion in Sir Hugo's voice, as he said-


Deronda obeyed, not without presentiment.


It was extremely rare for Sir Hugo to show so much serious feeling.


At least, if there is nothing in it that will grieve you too much.


But I hardly expected that this--just this--would ever happen.

"I hardly expected that this would ever happen.


There have been reasons why I have never prepared you for it. There have been reasons why I have never told you anything about your parentage.

There have been reasons why I have never prepared you for it, and never told you anything about your parentage."


But I have striven in every way not to make that an injury to you."


Sir Hugo paused, but Deronda could not speak. He could not say, "I have never felt it an injury." Even if that had been true, he could not have trusted his voice to say anything. Far more than any one but himself could know of was hanging on this moment when the secrecy was to be broken.

Sir Hugo paused, but Deronda could not trust his voice to speak, with so much hanging on this moment when the secrecy was to be broken.


Sir Hugo had never seen the grand face he delighted in so pale--the lips pressed together with such a look of pain. He went on with a more anxious tenderness, as if he had a new fear of wounding.

Sir Hugo went on with anxious tenderness.


"I have acted in obedience to your mother's wishes.


But now she desires to remove it. She desires to see you.


I will put this letter into your hands, which you can look at by-and-by. It will merely tell you what she wishes you to do, and where you will find her."

This letter, which you can read later, will tell you what she wishes you to do, and where you will find her."


Sir Hugo held out a letter written on foreign paper, which Deronda thrust into his breast-pocket, with a sense of relief that he was not called on to read anything immediately.

Sir Hugo held out a letter written on foreign paper, which Deronda thrust into his breast-pocket, relieved that he was not called on to read it immediately.


The emotion on Daniel's face had gained on the baronet, and was visibly shaking his composure. Sir Hugo found it difficult to say more.

His composure shaken, Sir Hugo found it difficult to say more.


And Deronda's whole soul was possessed by a question which was the hardest in the world to utter.


If he let it pass, he could not recover the influences under which it was possible to utter the words and meet the answer.


For some moments his eyes were cast down, and it seemed to both as if thoughts were in the air between them.


But at last Deronda looked at Sir Hugo, and said, with a tremulous reverence in his voice--dreading to convey indirectly the reproach that affection had for years been stifling,

At last he looked at Sir Hugo, and said, with a tremulous reverence in his voice, dreading to convey any reproach-


The answer came immediately in a low emphatic tone--"No."


In the mingled emotions which followed that answer it was impossible to distinguish joy from pain.


Some new light had fallen on the past for Sir Hugo too in this interview.

Some light had fallen on the past for Sir Hugo too in this interview.


After a silence in which Deronda felt like one whose creed is gone before he has religiously embraced another, the baronet said, in a tone of confession,

The baronet said, in a tone of confession-


"Perhaps I was wrong, Dan, to undertake what I did.


And perhaps I liked it a little too well--having you all to myself.


But if you have had any pain which I might have helped, I ask you to forgive me."

But if you have had any pain, I ask you to forgive me."


"The forgiveness has long been there," said Deronda "The chief pain has always been on account of some one else--whom I never knew--whom I am now to know.

"The forgiveness has long been there," said Deronda. "The chief pain has always been on account of my mother.


It has not hindered me from feeling an affection for you which has made a large part of all the life I remember."

But my affection for you has made a large part of my life."


It seemed one impulse that made the two men clasp each other's hand for a moment.

And with one impulse the two men clasped each other's hands.


This man contrives a secret 'twixt us two, That he may quell me with his meeting eyes Like one who quells a lioness at bay.


This was the letter Gwendolen found on her table:,


DEAREST CHILD.--I have been expecting to hear from you for a week.

'DEAREST CHILD. - I have been expecting to hear from you.


In your last you said the Langens thought of leaving Leubronn and going to Baden.

In your last letter you said the Langens thought of leaving Leubronn for Baden.


How could you be so thoughtless as to leave me in uncertainty about your address?


I am in the greatest anxiety lest this should not reach you.


In any case, you were to come home at the end of September, and I must now entreat you to return as quickly as possible, for if you spent all your money it would be out of my power to send you any more, and you must not borrow of the Langens, for I could not repay them.

I must entreat you to return as quickly as possible, for if you spent all your money I would be powerless to send you any more, and you must not borrow of the Langens, for I could not repay them.


This is the sad truth, my child--I wish I could prepare you for it better--but a dreadful calamity has befallen us all.

'This is the sad truth, my child - a dreadful calamity has befallen us all.


You know nothing about business and will not understand it; but Grapnell & Co. have failed for a million, and we are totally ruined--your aunt Gascoigne as well as I, only that your uncle has his benefice, so that by putting down their carriage and getting interest for the boys, the family can go on.

You know nothing about business and will not understand it; but Grapnell & Co. have failed for a million, and we are totally ruined - your aunt Gascoigne as well as I, except that your uncle's benefice means that they can manage.


All the property our poor father saved for us goes to pay the liabilities.

All the property our poor father saved for us is gone.


It is better you should know this at once, though it rends my heart to have to tell it you.


Of course we cannot help thinking what a pity it was that you went away just when you did. But I shall never reproach you, my dear child; I would save you from all trouble if I could.

We cannot help thinking what a pity it was that you went away just when you did; but I shall never reproach you, my dear child; I would save you from all trouble if I could.


On your way home you will have time to prepare yourself for the change you will find.

'On your way home you will have time to prepare yourself for changes.


We shall perhaps leave Offendene at once, for we hope that Mr. Haynes, who wanted it before, may be ready to take it off my hands.


Of course we cannot go to the rectory--there is not a corner there to spare.

Of course we cannot go to the rectory - there is not a corner there to spare.


We must get some hut or other to shelter us, and we must live on your uncle Gascoigne's charity, until I see what else can be done.

We must get some hut or other to shelter us, and live on your uncle Gascoigne's charity, until I see what else can be done.


I shall not be able to pay the debts to the tradesmen besides the servants' wages.


Summon up your fortitude, my dear child; we must resign ourselves to God's will.

Summon your fortitude, my dear child; we must resign ourselves to God's will.


But it is hard to resign one's self to Mr. Lassman's wicked recklessness, which they say was the cause of the failure.

But it is hard to resign one's self to the wicked recklessness which was the cause of the failure.


Your poor sisters can only cry with me and give me no help.

Your poor sisters can only cry and give me no help.


If you were once here, there might be a break in the cloud--I always feel it impossible that you can have been meant for poverty.

If you were here, there might be a break in the cloud - I always feel it impossible that you can have been meant for poverty.


If the Langens wish to remain abroad, perhaps you can put yourself under some one else's care for the journey.


But come as soon as you can to your afflicted and loving mamma,

Come as soon as you can to your afflicted and loving mamma,


The first effect of this letter on Gwendolen was half-stupefying.


The implicit confidence that her destiny must be one of luxurious ease, where any trouble that occurred would be well clad and provided for, had been stronger in her own mind than in her mamma's, being fed there by her youthful blood and that sense of superior claims which made a large part of her consciousness.

Her confidence that her destiny must be one of luxurious ease, where any trouble would be well provided for, had been stronger in her own mind than in her mamma's, fed by her youth and her sense of superior claims.


It was almost as difficult for her to believe suddenly that her position had become one of poverty and of humiliating dependence, as it would have been to get into the strong current of her blooming life the chill sense that her death would really come.

It was almost as difficult for her to believe suddenly in her poverty and humiliating dependence, as it would have been for her to take into her strong blooming life the chill sense that her death would really come.


She stood motionless for a few minutes, then tossed off her hat and automatically looked in the glass.


The coils of her smooth light-brown hair were still in order perfect enough for a ball-room; and as on other nights, Gwendolen might have looked lingeringly at herself for pleasure (surely an allowable indulgence); but now she took no conscious note of her reflected beauty, and simply stared right before her as if she had been jarred by a hateful sound and was waiting for any sign of its cause.

The coils of her smooth light-brown hair were still in perfect order. On other nights, Gwendolen might have looked lingeringly at herself for pleasure; but now she took no note of her beauty, and simply stared before her.


By-and-by she threw herself in the corner of the red velvet sofa, took up the letter again and read it twice deliberately, letting it at last fall on the ground, while she rested her clasped hands on her lap and sat perfectly still, shedding no tears.

By-and-by she threw herself onto the sofa and read the letter again twice, letting it at last fall on the ground, while she sat still, shedding no tears.


Her impulse was to survey and resist the situation rather than to wail over it.


There was no inward exclamation of "Poor mamma!"


Her mamma had never seemed to get much enjoyment out of life, and if Gwendolen had been at this moment disposed to feel pity she would have bestowed it on herself--for was she not naturally and rightfully the chief object of her mamma's anxiety too?

Her mamma had never seemed to get much enjoyment out of life, and Gwendolen would rather have bestowed any pity on herself.


But it was anger, it was resistance that possessed her; it was bitter vexation that she had lost her gains at roulette, whereas if her luck had continued through this one day she would have had a handsome sum to carry home, or she might have gone on playing and won enough to support them all.


She had only four napoleons left in her purse, but she possessed some ornaments which she could sell: a practice so common in stylish society at German baths that there was no need to be ashamed of it; and even if she had not received her mamma's letter, she would probably have decided to get money for an Etruscan necklace which she happened not to have been wearing since her arrival; nay, she might have done so with an agreeable sense that she was living with some intensity and escaping humdrum.

She had little money left in her purse, but she had some ornaments which she could sell: a practice so common in stylish society here that there was no need to be ashamed of it. Even if she had not received her mamma's letter, she would probably have decided to get money for an Etruscan necklace which she had not worn since her arrival.


With ten louis at her disposal and a return of her former luck, which seemed probable, what could she do better than go on playing for a few days?

With money and a return of her former luck, which seemed probable, what could she do better than go on playing for a few days?


If her friends at home disapproved of the way in which she got the money, as they certainly would, still the money would be there.

If her friends at home disapproved, as they certainly would, still the money would be there.


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

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 just been left at the door.


Gwendolen took it in her hand and immediately hurried into her own room. She looked paler and more agitated than when she had first read her mamma's letter.

Gwendolen took it and immediately hurried to her room, 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.