ent to the expense of such
thinking; but his own depth of coloring, which made the becomingness,
got an added radiance in the eyes, a fleeting and returning glow in the
skin, as he entered the house wondering what exactly he should find. He
made his entrance as noiseless as possible.

It was the evening of that same afternoon on which Mirah had had the
interview with her father. Mordecai, penetrated by her grief, and also
the sad memories which the incident had awakened, had not resumed his
task of sifting papers: some of them had fallen scattered on the floor
in the first moments of anxiety, and neither he nor Mirah had thought
of laying them in order again. They had sat perfectly still together,
not knowing how long; while the clock ticked on the mantelpiece, and
the light was fading, Mirah, unable to think of the food that she ought
to have been taking, had not moved since she had thrown off her
dust-cloak and sat down beside Mordecai with her hand in his, while he
had laid his head backward, with closed eyes and difficult breathing,
looking, Mirah thought, as he would look when the soul within him could
no longer live in its straitened home. The thought that his death might
be near was continually visiting her when she saw his face in this way,
without its vivid animation; and now, to the rest of her grief, was
added the regret that she had been unable to control the violent
outburst which had shaken him. She sat watching him--her oval cheeks
pallid, her eyes with the sorrowful brilliancy left by young tears, her
curls in as much disorder as a just-awakened child's--watching that
emaciated face, where it might have been imagined that a veil had been
drawn never to be lifted, as if it were her dead joy which had left her
strong enough to live on in sorrow. And life at that moment stretched
before Mirah with more than a repetition of former sadness. The shadow
of the father was there, and more than that, a double bereavement--of
one living as well as one dead.

But now the door was opened, and while none entered, a well-known voice
said: "Daniel Deronda--may he come in?"

"Come! come!" said Mordecai, immediately rising with an irradiated face
and opened eyes--apparently as little surprised as if he had seen
Deronda in the morning, and expected this evening visit; while Mirah
started up blushing with confused, half-alarmed expectation.

Yet when Deronda entered, the sight of him was like the clearness after
rain: n