the sorrowful
better, suffering because of the worse. All this mingled thought and
feeling kept him silent; speech was too momentous to be ventured on
rashly. There were no words of comfort that did not carry some
sacrilege. If he had opened his lips to speak, he could only have
echoed, "It can never be altered--it remains unaltered, to alter other
things." But he was silent and motionless--he did not know how
long--before he turned to look at her, and saw her sunk back with
closed eyes, like a lost, weary, storm-beaten white doe, unable to rise
and pursue its unguided way. He rose and stood before her. The movement
touched her consciousness, and she opened her eyes with a slight
quivering that seemed like fear.

"You must rest now. Try to rest: try to sleep. And may I see you again
this evening--to-morrow--when you have had some rest? Let us say no
more now."

The tears came, and she could not answer except by a slight movement of
the head. Deronda rang for attendance, spoke urgently of the necessity
that she should be got to rest, and then left her.

CHAPTER LVII.

"The unripe grape, the ripe, and the dried. All things are changes,
not into nothing, but into that which is not at present."--MARCUS
AURELIUS.

Deeds are the pulse of Time, his beating life,
And righteous or unrighteous, being done,
Must throb in after-throbs till Time itself
Be laid in darkness, and the universe
Quiver and breathe upon no mirror more.

In the evening she sent for him again. It was already near the hour at
which she had been brought in from the sea the evening before, and the
light was subdued enough with blinds drawn up and windows open. She was
seated gazing fixedly on the sea, resting her cheek on her hand,
looking less shattered than when he had left her, but with a deep
melancholy in her expression which as Deronda approached her passed
into an anxious timidity. She did not put out her hand, but said, "How
long ago it is!" Then, "Will you sit near me again a little while?"

He placed himself by her side as he had done before, and seeing that
she turned to him with that indefinable expression which implies a wish
to say something, he waited for her to speak. But again she looked
toward the window silently, and again turned with the same expression,
which yet did not issue in speech. There was some fear hindering her,
and Deronda, wishing to relieve her timidity, averted his face.
Prese