words was
degraded into something she was ashamed to betray--an absurd longing
that she who had received all and given nothing should be of importance
where she was of no importance--an angry feeling toward another woman
who possessed the good she wanted. But what notion, what vain reliance
could it be that had lain darkly within her and was now burning itself
into sight as disappointment and jealousy? It was as if her soul had
been steeped in poisonous passion by forgotten dreams of deep sleep,
and now flamed out in this unaccountable misery. For with her waking
reason she had never entertained what seemed the wildly unfitting
thought that Deronda could love her. The uneasiness she had felt before
had been comparatively vague and easily explained as part of a general
regret that he was only a visitant in her and her brother's world, from
which the world where his home lay was as different as a portico with
lights and lacqueys was different from the door of a tent, where the
only splendor came from the mysterious inaccessible stars. But her
feeling was no longer vague: the cause of her pain--the image of Mrs.
Grandcourt by Deronda's side, drawing him farther and farther into the
distance, was as definite as pincers on her flesh. In the Psyche-mould
of Mirah's frame there rested a fervid quality of emotion, sometimes
rashly supposed to require the bulk of a Cleopatra; her impressions had
the thoroughness and tenacity that give to the first selection of
passionate feeling the character of a lifelong faithfulness. And now a
selection had declared itself, which gave love a cruel heart of
jealousy: she had been used to a strong repugnance toward certain
objects that surrounded her, and to walk inwardly aloof from them while
they touched her sense. And now her repugnance concentrated itself on
Mrs. Grandcourt, of whom she involuntarily conceived more evil than she
knew. "I could bear everything that used to be--but this is worse--this
is worse,--I used not to have horrible feelings!" said the poor child
in a loud whisper to her pillow. Strange that she should have to pray
against any feeling which concerned Deronda!

But this conclusion had been reached through an evening spent in
attending to Mordecai, whose exaltation of spirit in the prospect of
seeing his friend again, disposed him to utter many thoughts aloud to
Mirah, though such communication was often interrupted by intervals
apparently filled with an inward utterance