CHAPTER LXX.

In the checkered area of human experience the seasons are all mingled
as in the golden age: fruit and blossom hang together; in the same
moment the sickle is reaping and the seed is sprinkled; one tends the
green cluster and another treads the winepress. Nay, in each of our
lives harvest and spring-time are continually one, until himself
gathers us and sows us anew in his invisible fields.


Among the blessings of love there is hardly one more exquisite than the
sense that in uniting the beloved life to ours we can watch over its
happiness, bring comfort where hardship was, and over memories of
privation and suffering open the sweetest fountains of joy. Deronda's love
for Mirah was strongly imbued with that blessed protectiveness. Even with
infantine feet she had begun to tread among thorns; and the first time he
had beheld her face it had seemed to him the girlish image of despair.

But now she was glowing like a dark-tipped yet delicate ivory-tinted
flower in the warm sunlight of content, thinking of any possible grief as
part of that life with Deronda, which she could call by no other name than
good. And he watched the sober gladness which gave new beauty to her
movements; and her habitual attitudes of repose, with a delight which made
him say to himself that it was enough of personal joy for him to save her
from pain. She knew nothing of Hans's struggle or of Gwendolen's pang; for
after the assurance that Deronda's hidden love had been for her, she
easily explained Gwendolen's eager solicitude about him as part of a
grateful dependence on his goodness, such as she herself had known. And
all Deronda's words about Mrs. Grandcourt confirmed that view of their
relation, though he never touched on it except in the most distant manner.
Mirah was ready to believe that he had been a rescuing angel to many
besides herself. The only wonder was, that she among them all was to have
the bliss of being continually by his side.

So, when the bridal veil was around Mirah it hid no doubtful tremors--only
a thrill of awe at the acceptance of a great gift which required great
uses. And the velvet canopy never covered a more goodly bride and
bridegroom, to whom their people might more wisely wish offspring; more
truthful lips never touched the sacrament marriage-wine; the marriage-
blessing never gathered stronger promise of fulfillment than in the
integrity of their mutual pledge. Naturally, they were married according
to the Jewish rite. And since no religion seems yet to have demanded that
when we make a feast we should invite only the highest rank of our
acquaintances, few, it is to be hoped, will be offended to learn that
among the guests at Deronda's little wedding-feast was the entire Cohen
family, with the one exception of the baby who carried on her teething
intelligently at home. How could Mordecai have borne that those friends of
his adversity should have been shut out from rejoicing in common with him?

Mrs. Meyrick so fully understood this that she had quite reconciled
herself to meeting the Jewish pawnbroker, and was there with her three
daughters--all of them enjoying the consciousness that Mirah's marriage to
Deronda crowned a romance which would always make a sweet memory to them.
For which of them, mother or girls, had not had a generous part in it--
giving their best in feeling and in act to her who needed? If Hans could
have been there, it would have been better; but Mab had already observed
that men must suffer for being so inconvenient; suppose she, Kate, and Amy
had all fallen in love with Mr. Deronda?--but being women they were not so
ridiculous.

The Meyricks were rewarded for conquering their prejudices by hearing a
speech from Mr. Cohen, which had the rare quality among speeches of not
being quite after the usual pattern. Jacob ate beyond his years, and
contributed several small whinnying laughs as a free accompaniment of his
father's speech, not irreverently, but from a lively sense that his family
was distinguishing itself; while Adelaide Rebekah, in a new Sabbath frock,
maintained throughout a grave air of responsibility.

Mordecai's brilliant eyes, sunken in their large sockets, dwelt on the
scene with the cherishing benignancy of a spirit already lifted into an
aloofness which nullified only selfish requirements and left sympathy
alive. But continually, after his gaze had been traveling round on the
others, it returned to dwell on Deronda with a fresh gleam of trusting
affection.

The wedding-feast was humble, but Mirah was not without splendid wedding-
gifts. As soon as the betrothal had been known, there were friends who had
entertained graceful devices. Sir Hugo and Lady Mallinger had taken
trouble to provide a complete equipment for Eastern travel, as well as a
precious locket containing an inscription--"_To the bride of our dear
Daniel Deronda all blessings. H. and L. M._" The Klesmers sent a perfect
watch, also with a pretty inscription.

But something more precious than gold and gems came to Deronda from the
neighborhood of Diplow on the morning of his marriage. It was a letter
containing these words:--

Do not think of me sorrowfully on your wedding-day. I have remembered
your words--that I may live to be one of the best of women, who
make others glad that they were born. I do not yet see how that can
be, but you know better than I. If it ever comes true, it will be
because you helped me. I only thought of myself, and I made you
grieve. It hurts me now to think of your grief. You must not grieve
any more for me. It is better--it shall be better with me because I
have known you.

GWENDOLEN GRANDCOURT.

The preparations for the departure of all three to the East began at once;
for Deronda could not deny Ezra's wish that they should set out on the
voyage forthwith, so that he might go with them, instead of detaining them
to watch over him. He had no belief that Ezra's life would last through
the voyage, for there were symptoms which seemed to show that the last
stage of his malady had set in. But Ezra himself had said, "Never mind
where I die, so that I am with you."

He did not set out with them. One morning early he said to Deronda, "Do
not quit me to-day. I shall die before it is ended."

He chose to be dressed and sit up in his easy chair as usual, Deronda and
Mirah on each side of him, and for some hours he was unusually silent, not
even making the effort to speak, but looking at them occasionally with
eyes full of some restful meaning, as if to assure them that while this
remnant of breathing-time was difficult, he felt an ocean of peace beneath
him.

It was not till late in the afternoon, when the light was falling, that he
took a hand of each in his and said, looking at Deronda, "Death is coming
to me as the divine kiss which is both parting and reunion--which takes me
from your bodily eyes and gives me full presence in your soul. Where thou
goest, Daniel, I shall go. Is it not begun? Have I not breathed my soul
into you? We shall live together."

He paused, and Deronda waited, thinking that there might be another word
for him. But slowly and with effort Ezra, pressing on their hands, raised
himself and uttered in Hebrew the confession of the divine Unity, which
long for generations has been on the lips of the dying Israelite.

He sank back gently into his chair, and did not speak again. But it was
some hours before he had ceased to breathe, with Mirah's and Deronda's
arms around him.

"Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail
Or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt,
Dispraise or blame; nothing but well and fair,
And what may quiet us in a death so noble."