We feel with Mrs Meyrick "that she is a pearl, and the mud has only
washed her." In her startling interview with Gwendolen, the sudden
indignant protest which the inquiry of the latter calls out is a protest
against even a hint of evil being directed towards that which has been
best and highest to her. Her love for Deronda steals into the maiden
purity of her soul with an unconscious delicacy which cannot be
surpassed; and as she parts from us by his side, we feel that she is no
Judith or Esther, but the meek Mary of the annunciation, going forth on
her unknown mission of love with the words, "Behold the handmaid of the
Lord."
Beside the exquisitely meek child-figure, with the small delicate head
faintly drooping under the sorrow which is the heritage of her race,
stands up Deronda in his calm dignity. As he lies on the grass, and the
first faint glimmering of the possible origin of his life breaks upon
him, even the first inevitable risings of resentment against Sir Hugo are
softened and toned down by the old yearning affection; and the longings
for the unknown mother, intense as they are, yet shrink from full
discovery of what she may have been or may still be.
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