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And Deronda's conscience included sensibilities beyond the common, enlarged by his early habit of thinking himself imaginatively into the experience of others. What was the claim this eager soul made upon him? "You must believe my beliefs be moved by my reasons hope my hopes see the vision I point to behold a glory where I behold it!"
Fronsberg. Distinguish words. I said I held a pardon, not consent. In spite of Deronda's reasons for wishing to be in town again reasons in which his anxiety for Mirah was blent with curiosity to know more of the enigmatic Mordecai he did not manage to go up before Sir Hugo, who preceded his family that he might be ready for the opening of Parliament on the sixth of February.
"You love her as your father loved me, and she draws you after her as I drew him." Those words touched Deronda's filial imagination, and some tenderness in his glance was taken by his mother as an assent. She went on with rising passion: "But I was leading him the other way. And now your grandfather is getting his revenge."
Adam have mounted the precious chest, and I have delivered the key to Mordecai no, Ezra, may I call him Ezra now? I have learned to think of him as Ezra since I have heard you call him so." "Please call him Ezra," said Mirah, faintly, feeling a new timidity under Deronda's glance and near presence. Was there really something different about him, or was the difference only in her feeling?
He had promised to run down the next day to see Lady Mallinger at the Abbey, and it was already sunset. He wished to deposit the precious chest with Mordecai, who would study its contents, both in his absence and in company with him; and that he should pay this visit without pause would gratify Mordecai's heart. Hence, and for other reasons, it gratified Deronda's heart.
But he had no expectation of meeting the friend he imagined. Deronda's was not one of those quiveringly-poised natures that lend themselves to second-sight.
Still he was there, and though Grandcourt would not make a fool of himself by fabrications that others might call preposterous, he was not, for all that, disposed to admit fully that Deronda's presence was, so far as Gwendolen was concerned, a mere accident. It was a disgusting fact; that was enough; and no doubt she was well pleased.
But a lap-dog would be necessarily at a loss in framing to itself the motives and adventures of doghood at large; and it was as far from Gwendolen's conception that Deronda's life could be determined by the historical destiny of the Jews, as that he could rise into the air on a brazen horse, and so vanish from her horizon in the form of a twinkling star.
That the mixture was judicious was apparent from Deronda's finding in it something that he wanted namely, that wonderful bit of autobiography, the life of the Polish Jew, Salomon Maimon; which, as he could easily slip it into his pocket, he took from its place, and entered the shop to pay for, expecting to see behind the counter a grimy personage showing that nonchalance about sales which seems to belong universally to the second-hand book-business.
She could not go. It was impossible to rise and say good-bye. Deronda's voice was in her ears. She must say it she could contrive no other sentence "Mr. Deronda is in the next room." "Yes," said Mirah, in her former tone. "He is reading Hebrew with my brother." "You have a brother?" said Gwendolen, who had heard this from Lady Mallinger, but had not minded it then.
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