experiences, to which a
clue has already been given. His own face in the glass had during many
years associated for him with thoughts of some one whom he must be
like--one about whose character and lot he continually wondered, and
never dared to ask.

In the neighborhood of Kew Bridge, between six and seven o'clock, the
river was no solitude. Several persons were sauntering on the
towing-path, and here and there a boat was plying. Deronda had been
rowing fast to get over this spot, when, becoming aware of a great
barge advancing toward him, he guided his boat aside, and rested on his
oar within a couple of yards of the river-brink. He was all the while
unconsciously continuing the low-toned chant which had haunted his
throat all the way up the river--the gondolier's song in the "Otello,"
where Rossini has worthily set to music the immortal words of Dante--

"Nessun maggior dolore
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice
Nella miseria":
[Footnote: Dante's words are best rendered by our own poet in the lines
at the head of the chapter.]

and, as he rested on his oar, the pianissimo fall of the melodic wail
"nella miseria" was distinctly audible on the brink of the water. Three
or four persons had paused at various spots to watch the barge passing
the bridge, and doubtless included in their notice the young gentleman
in the boat; but probably it was only to one ear that the low vocal
sounds came with more significance than if they had been an
insect-murmur amidst the sum of current noises. Deronda, awaiting the
barge, now turning his head to the river-side, and saw at a few yards'
distant from him a figure which might have been an impersonation of the
misery he was unconsciously giving voice to: a girl hardly more than
eighteen, of low slim figure, with most delicate little face, her dark
curls pushed behind her ears under a large black hat, a long woolen
cloak over her shoulders. Her hands were hanging down clasped before
her, and her eyes were fixed on the river with a look of immovable,
statue-like despair. This strong arrest of his attention made him cease
singing: apparently his voice had entered her inner world without her
taking any note of whence it came, for when it suddenly ceased she
changed her attitude slightly, and, looking round with a frightened
glance, met Deronda's face. It was but a couple of moments, but that
seemed a long while for two people to look straight at each other. Her
look was somet