MUTUAL SELF-EXAMINATION.
The entrance of tea changed the conversation, and changed also the
positions of the party. Cecil relinquished his place by the side of
Blanche, much to her regret, and managed to get near Violet, who was
anxious to make up for her previous coldness and contempt. She felt
that she had wronged him. She admitted to the full his explanation
of the incident which had so changed her feelings, and, with the
warmth of a generous nature owning its error, she endeavoured to make
him understand that she had wronged him. Two happier hearts did not
beat that night.
Could they have read aright their feelings, however, they would have
seen something feverish and unhealthy in this warmth. It was not the
sympathy of sympathetic souls but a mutual desire to forget, and have
forgotten the feelings which had agitated them a little while ago.
Mrs. Meredith Vyner was more taciturn than was her wont. The covert
insinuations Marmaduke had thrown out puzzled her extremely; while
they were in sufficient keeping with what had gone before, to prevent
her supposing he attached no meaning to them.
"Could he really suppose her in love with Cecil?" she asked herself;
"and was he serious in thus presenting himself in the character of an
Iago?"
Much did she vex her brain, and to little purpose. The truth is, she
was attributing to these words a coherence and significance which
they had not in Marmaduke's mind. She assumed them to be indications
of some deeply-laid scheme; whereas they were the mere spurts of the
moment, seized upon by him as they presented themselves, and without
any ulterior purpose. He had no plan; but he was deeply enraged
against her, and lashed her with the first whip at hand. Had he been
as cunning as she was, he would never have betrayed himself in this
way; but being a man of vehement passions, and accustomed to give way
to his impulses, it was only immense self-command which enabled him
to contain himself so much as he did. Julius went home to dream of
Rose. Marmaduke to pass a sleepless night thinking of Violet. He
had never seen a woman he admired so much. For the first time in his
life, he had encountered a gaze that did not bend beneath his own;
for the first time he had met with one whose will seemed as
indomitable as his own, whose soul was as passionate. It was very
different from the effect which Mary Hardcastle had excited: it was
not so irritating, but more voluptuous. In one word, the difference
was this: Mary excited the lower, Violet the higher qualities of his
nature. There was reverence in his feeling for Violet; in his
feeling for Mary there had been nothing but a sensual fascination.
Maxwell was restless. He was growing very jealous of Marmaduke--Mrs.
Vyner's interest not escaping him. Violet was also sleepless. She
thought of Marmaduke, and of the two interchanged glances which told
her how they had both read alike the character of her mother; and
wondered by what penetration he had discovered it. She thought him
also a magnificent--a _manly_ man; but she thought no more. Cecil
occupied her mind.
As I have said, her first impulse was to admit to the full Cecil's
explanation, and to revoke her sentence of contempt. As she lay
meditating on the whole of the circumstances, and examined his
character calmly, she was forced to confess that if he did not
deserve the accusation of cowardice, yet by his own showing his first
impulse was to secure his own safety, and _then_ to think of others.
This looked like weakness and selfishness: two odious vices in her
eyes.
The result of her meditations was, that Cecil had regained some
portion of her liking, but had lost for ever all hold upon her
esteem. Pretty much the same change took place in his mind with
regard to her. He admitted that she was high-minded, generous,
lovely--but not loveable. There was something in her which awed him,
and which he called repulsive.
He went to sleep thinking what a sweet loveable creature Blanche was,
and how superior to Violet.