thought before the outburst of her habitual emotion. It was as if he saw her drowning while his limbs were bound. The pained compassion which was spread over his features as he watched her, affected her with a compunction unlike any she had felt before, and in a changed imploring tone she said—
"I am grieving you. I am ungrateful. You can help me. I will think of everything. I will try. Tell me—it will not be a pain to you that I have dared to speak of my trouble to you? You began it, you know, when you rebuked me." There was a melancholy smile on her lips as she said that, but she added more entreatingly, "It will not be a pain to you?"
"Not if it does anything to save you from an evil to come," said Deronda, with strong emphasis; "otherwise, it will be a lasting pain."
"No—no—it shall not be. It may be—it shall be better with me because I have known you." She turned immediately, and quitted the room.
When she was on the first landing of the stair-case, Sir Hugo passed across the hall on his way to the library, and saw her. Grandcourt was not with him.
Deronda, when the baronet entered, was standing in his ordinary attitude, grasping his coat
