d web of yesterday's events, and finally
waked him, with an image drawn by his pressing anxiety.

Still, it was morning, and there had been no summons--an augury which
cheered him while he made his toilet, and reflected that it was too
early to send inquiries. Later, he learned that she had passed a too
wakeful night, but had shown no violent signs of agitation, and was at
last sleeping. He wondered at the force that dwelt in this creature, so
alive to dread; for he had an irresistible impression that even under
the effects of a severe physical shock she was mastering herself with a
determination of concealment. For his own part, he thought that his
sensibilities had been blunted by what he had been going through in the
meeting with his mother: he seemed to himself now to be only fulfilling
claims, and his more passionate sympathy was in abeyance. He had lately
been living so keenly in an experience quite apart from Gwendolen's
lot, that his present cares for her were like a revisiting of scenes
familiar in the past, and there was not yet a complete revival of the
inward response to them.

Meanwhile he employed himself in getting a formal, legally recognized
statement from the fisherman who had rescued Gwendolen. Few details
came to light. The boat in which Grandcourt had gone out had been found
drifting with its sail loose, and had been towed in. The fishermen
thought it likely that he had been knocked overboard by the flapping of
the sail while putting about, and that he had not known how to swim;
but, though they were near, their attention had been first arrested by
a cry which seemed like that of a man in distress, and while they were
hastening with their oars, they heard a shriek from the lady, and saw
her jump in.

On re-entering the hotel, Deronda was told that Gwendolen had risen,
and was desiring to see him. He was shown into a room darkened by
blinds and curtains, where she was seated with a white shawl wrapped
round her, looking toward the opening door like one waiting uneasily.
But her long hair was gathered up and coiled carefully, and, through
all, the blue stars in her ears had kept their place: as she started
impulsively to her full height, sheathed in her white shawl, her face
and neck not less white, except for a purple line under her eyes, her
lips a little apart with the peculiar expression of one accused and
helpless, she looked like the unhappy ghost of that Gwendolen Harleth
whom Deronda had se