, she thought it possible to
be freer from nervousness, but the black lace did not take away the uneasiness
from her eyes and lips.
    She was standing in the middle of the room when Deronda was announced, and
as he approached her she perceived that he too for some reason was not his usual
self. She could not have defined the change except by saying that he looked less
happy than usual, and appeared to be under some effort in speaking to her. And
yet the speaking was the slightest possible. They both said, »How do you do?«
quite curtly; and Gwendolen, instead of sitting down, moved to a little
distance, resting her arms slightly on the tall back of a chair, while Deronda
stood where he was, - both feeling it difficult to say anything more, though the
preoccupation in his mind could hardly have been more remote than it was from
Gwendolen's conception. She naturally saw in his embarrassment some reflection
of her own. Forced to speak, she found all her training in concealment and
self-command of no use to her, and began with timid awkwardness -
    »You will wonder why I begged you to come. I wanted to ask you something.
You said I was ignorant. That is true. And what can I do but ask you?«
    And at this moment she was feeling it utterly impossible to put the
questions she had intended. Something new in her nervous manner roused Deronda's
anxiety lest there might be a new crisis. He said with the sadness of affection
in his voice -
    »My only regret is, that I can be of so little use to you.« The words and
the tone touched a new spring in her, and she went on with more sense of
freedom, yet still not saying anything she had designed to say, and beginning to
hurry, that she might somehow arrive at the right words.
    »I wanted to tell you that I have always been thinking of your advice, but
is it any use? - I can't make myself different, because things about me raise
bad feelings - and I must go on - I can alter nothing - it is no use.«
    She paused an instant, with the consciousness that she was not finding the
right words, but began again as hurriedly, »But if I go on, I shall get worse. I
want not to get worse. I should like to be what you wish. There are people who
are good and enjoy great things - I know there are. I am a contemptible
creature. I feel as
