"It is not true! What does it matter whether _he_ believes it or not?" This is what she repeated to herself--but this was not her faith come back again; it was only the desperate cry of faith, finding suffocation intolerable. And how could she go on through the day in this state? With one of her impetuous alternations, her imagination flew to wild actions by which she would convince herself of what she wished: she would go to Lady Mallinger and question her about Mirah; she would write to Deronda and upbraid him with making the world all false and wicked and hopeless to her--to him she dared pour out all the bitter indignation of her heart. No; she would go to Mirah. This last form taken by her need was more definitely practicable, and quickly became imperious. No matter what came of it. She had the pretext of asking Mirah to sing at her party on the fourth. What was she going to say beside? How satisfy? She did not foresee--she could not wait to foresee. If that idea which was maddening her had been a living thing, she would have wanted to throttle it without waiting to foresee what would come of the act. She rang her bell and asked if Mr. Grandcourt were gone out: finding that he was, she ordered the carriage, and began to dress for the drive; then she went down, and walked about the large drawing-room like an imprisoned dumb creature, not recognizing herself in the glass panels, not noting any object around her in the painted gilded prison. Her husband would probably find out where she had been, and punish her in some way or other--no matter--she could neither desire nor fear anything just now but the assurance that she had not been deluding herself in her trust.

"It is not true! What does it matter whether Grandcourt believes it?" This is what she repeated to herself, in a desperate cry of faith. How could she go on through the day in this state? Her impetuous imagination flew to wild actions by which she would convince herself of what she wished: she would question Lady Mallinger; she would write to Deronda and upbraid him with making the world wicked and hopeless to her.
No; she would go to Mirah. This path was more definitely practicable, and quickly became imperious. She had the pretext of asking Mirah to sing at her party on the fourth. What was she going to say beside? She did not wait to foresee. She rang her bell, and on finding that Mr. Grandcourt had gone out, she ordered the carriage, and dressed for the drive. Then she went down, and walked about the drawing-room like an imprisoned animal, not recognizing herself in the glass panels. Her husband would probably find out where she had been, and punish her somehow - but all that mattered just now was the assurance that she had not been deluded in her trust.
