Daniel Deronda: Chapter 35 Summary & Analysis

Daniel spends the day at the Abbey without thinking much about the Grandcourts. The fresh snowfall keeps him busy with the children, and he enjoys their excitement over winter games. By the time he finishes playing billiards and returns to his room, he realizes he has not once dwelled on the prospect of seeing Gwendolen. As he changes for dinner, his thoughts shift toward her. He wonders how marriage has altered her, whether she has grown into her new role or if her restless energy has turned into something more desperate. He reflects on her past reactions—how deeply certain moments affected her and how impressionable she seemed. He doubts Grandcourt can inspire anything positive in her.

At dinner, Gwendolen enters with her usual grace, but Daniel notices a new force in her presence. She greets the company with controlled composure, her smile thin and distant. Daniel studies her carefully, expecting some acknowledgment, but she avoids looking in his direction. When Sir Hugo prompts her to speak about Klesmer’s marriage, she finally lifts her gaze to Daniel, though her eyes flicker with hesitation. She answers lightly, making a playful remark about Klesmer’s self-importance, but then immediately softens her tone, as if realizing her words had been unfair. Daniel senses something fragile beneath her controlled exterior, something she refuses to show openly.

Later in the evening, Daniel approaches Gwendolen, who looks at him with open sadness. The shift in her mood unsettles him. She speaks of music but dismisses her own abilities, saying she will never sing again. He encourages her, suggesting that private enjoyment should be enough, but she brushes off his words. Her expression turns playful again, yet he hears something darker beneath her light tone. When she defends gambling as a cure for dullness, he challenges her, arguing that dissatisfaction comes from within. She studies him carefully, then asks if he hates those who harm him. Daniel answers carefully, saying that if someone injures him, he would still rather be in his own position than theirs. Gwendolen absorbs his response, then laughs abruptly and walks away.

Daniel watches her rejoin the group, more certain than ever that Gwendolen is struggling under the weight of her choices. But he cannot decide how much of a role he should play in her fate. He has no right to interfere, yet her distress pulls at him. Later that night, as he sits with a Hebrew grammar in his hands, he realizes he has spent the last hour thinking only of Gwendolen and Grandcourt. He resents the hold she has on his thoughts, but he cannot push her away.

The next day, the household prepares for a tour of the Abbey. Gwendolen hurries down to the library ahead of the others, hoping for a private moment with Daniel. She stands silently, waiting for him to notice her, but he remains absorbed in his newspaper. She resists the urge to cough or make a sound, unwilling to signal him like a schoolgirl. The longer he ignores her, the more her frustration builds. Finally, he lowers the paper and acknowledges her presence, only to excuse himself and leave the room. The slight stings. Grandcourt enters soon after and studies her face. He asks if she feels well enough for the walk, his voice devoid of concern. She answers steadily, refusing to show any discomfort.

The group sets out through the Abbey grounds, admiring the architecture. Gwendolen plays her part, listening to Sir Hugo’s commentary and joining the conversation when necessary. She stays close to Sir Hugo at first, avoiding Daniel, but as they enter the stables, she cannot help but let excitement slip into her voice. The grandeur of the space thrills her, and she exclaims that the stables are far more impressive than those at Diplow. But the moment the words leave her mouth, she regrets them. Her eyes instinctively find Daniel’s, and his expression makes her flush with embarrassment. She feels foolish, as if she has exposed something selfish and shallow in herself.

Grandcourt, standing beside her, notices the moment. He turns to Daniel with a sneer and the two exchange barbs. After, as the group moves on, Daniel keeps his distance, engaging in conversation with another woman instead. Gwendolen resents the shift. The admiration of the other men means nothing to her when Daniel seems indifferent. She wants his attention, but only to prove to herself that he does not think poorly of her.

When the group returns indoors, Gwendolen slips away to her room. She stares at her reflection, unable to recognize the triumphant bride she once imagined herself becoming. The letter from Lydia returns to her mind, its words clawing at her. The diamonds she wears feel like a brand, a reminder of her broken promise. She had told herself that marriage would secure her future, that she would gain power over Grandcourt in time. But she has no power. His quiet control smothers her. He insisted she wear the diamonds, and she obeys, too afraid to resist.

For the first time, Gwendolen realizes how completely she has lost herself. She cannot fight Grandcourt, nor can she escape him. Her only refuge lies in maintaining appearances, in convincing the world that she is content. But she knows that beneath the surface, she is unraveling. She tells herself she will adjust, that she will find distractions to numb the pain. But as she stares at her reflection, she wonders if Daniel sees through her facade. More than anything, she wishes he could understand her suffering without her having to confess it. She no longer trusts herself, but she trusts his judgment. His presence unsettles her, yet it is the only presence that makes her feel seen.