ntly he heard her cry imploringly--

"You will not say that any one else should know?"

"Most decidedly not," said Deronda. "There is no action that ought to
be taken in consequence. There is no injury that could be righted in
that way. There is no retribution that any mortal could apportion
justly."

She was so still during a pause that she seemed to be holding her
breath before she said--

"But if I had not had that murderous will--that moment--if I had thrown
the rope on the instant--perhaps it would have hindered death?"

"No--I think not," said Deronda, slowly. "If it were true that he could
swim, he must have been seized with cramp. With your quickest, utmost
effort, it seems impossible that you could have done anything to save
him. That momentary murderous will cannot, I think, have altered the
course of events. Its effect is confined to the motives in your own
breast. Within ourselves our evil will is momentous, and sooner or
later it works its way outside us--it may be in the vitiation that
breeds evil acts, but also it may be in the self-abhorrence that stings
us into better striving."

"I am saved from robbing others--there are others--they will have
everything--they will have what they ought to have. I knew that some
time before I left town. You do not suspect me of wrong desires about
those things?" She spoke hesitatingly.

"I had not thought of them," said Deronda; "I was thinking too much of
the other things."

"Perhaps you don't quite know the beginning of it all," said Gwendolen,
slowly, as if she were overcoming her reluctance. "There was some one
else he ought to have married. And I knew it, and I told her I would
not hinder it. And I went away--that was when you first saw me. But
then we became poor all at once, and I was very miserable, and I was
tempted. I thought, 'I shall do as I like and make everything right.' I
persuaded myself. And it was all different. It was all dreadful. Then
came hatred and wicked thoughts. That was how it all came. I told you I
was afraid of myself. And I did what you told me--I did try to make my
fear a safeguard. I thought of what would be if I--I felt what would
come--how I should dread the morning--wishing it would be always
night--and yet in the darkness always seeing something--seeing death.
If you did not know how miserable I was, you might--but now it has all
been no use. I can care for nothing but saving the rest from
knowing--poor mamma, who has never