Chapter IX: Consequences

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean--
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
TENNYSON.--_The Princess._

A restless, agitated night was it for the four lovers. Julius sat up packing. He had informed his mother of his rejection; and she, doating as she did on her son, was highly indignant at Rose's "unfeeling coquetry, which she never could have believed her guilty of." Espousing his cause with a vehemence which somewhat hurt him, she readily agreed to his proposal of their both leaving the Grange forthwith, and spending the winter in Italy.

Marmaduke also packed up that night. He had quarrelled with Julius, and was determined to quit the Grange early in the morning. The subject of their quarrel had been the two girls, whom Marmaduke accused of being heartless coquettes, which Julius angrily denied. High words passed; for both were in a state of extraordinary agitation, from the events of the night.

Having completed his arrangements, he threw himself upon his bed, but not to sleep. Strange visions came to him--phantasmagoria, in which the image of the imperial Violet was ever and anon floating before the passionate figure of the sylph-like Mrs. Vyner, as she last appeared to him, proclaiming woman's undying love. Gradually his thoughts settled more and more upon the latter. He began to consider the various parts of her story, and to compare it with the facts. Then a new light broke in upon him. It is one of the effects of oratory, that your ears are charmed, your mind borne away along the stream of eloquence or argument, without having time to pause and examine; but subsequent reflection often suffices to break the spell, and the enthusiastic applauder votes against the very sentiments he has applauded. So Marmaduke had been carried away by the skilfully constructed tale which Mrs. Vyner had improvised; and the plausibility of the non-receipt of letters, and reports of his attentions to another, had been so great as really to have made him doubt the justness of his old convictions. But, on reflection, that plausibility vanished. He remembered that his letters had been received and acknowledged until within a very short time of the announcement of her marriage. He also remembered that he had been so occupied with affairs as to have had no time even for ordinary society in Brazil; so that no innocent flirtation with any girl there could at that time, by any possibility, have given rise to the reports by which she pretended to have been made jealous.

It was evident, therefore, that she was deceiving him again. For some purpose or other, she was playing with him.

"I will get to the bottom of this mystery," he said. "One of two things it must be: either she really loves me, in spite of all--and, in that case, I will profit by it,--or else she is again coquetting with me for some purpose, or out of mere love of coquetry; and, in that case, I will avenge the past. She is as cunning as the devil! To dupe her, I must feign the dupe."

He turned upon his pillow with a chuckle of triumph.

Mrs. Meredith Vyner slept soundly that night. A smile was on her lips as she sank asleep--a smile of gratulation at the success of her experiment on Marmaduke. She was sure that he was in her power.

Rose could only stay her grief by the recollection that to-morrow would explain away all that was now doubt and misgiving. She intended to call early at the Grange, and frankly tell Julius that she loved him. Nevertheless, in spite of this resolution, a dark presentiment overshadowed her soul, and drove away the thoughts of happiness. She wept abundantly; sometimes at her own folly, sometimes in anger at Julius, for having so brutally taken her at her word, as if a woman's negative was ever to be taken, when looks and words had so often affirmed what was then denied. He ought to have known she was only teazing him; that it was only a spurt of caprice. He must have known it. But he did not choose to see it. He wanted to make her unhappy! A fresh flood of tears closed this tirade. And so on, throughout the long and weary night.

Violet having heard from Rose the real state of the case, was relieved from jealousy only to be plunged into fresh doubt. What could be the meaning of Marmaduke's conduct? They had not quarrelled. She had said nothing to offend him; nor did he seem offended; and yet....

For the first time, Violet now became distinctly conscious that she loved Marmaduke. His fearlessness, manliness, and frankness had early captivated her,--to say nothing of his handsome person. Increased intimacy had shown her, as she thought, a heart and mind every way worthy of her love. But a certain mistrust--perhaps a recollection of her inclination towards Cecil, perhaps a vague sense of imperfect sympathy with Marmaduke--had kept her more reserved than was her wont; and this reserve was attributed to haughtiness. The chance of losing him, however, awakened her to a conviction of what the loss would be.

Day dawned; and with the dawn Julius set out for London. Marmaduke followed, at about nine o'clock. At eleven, Rose and Violet called in the carriage at the Grange.

"Mrs. St. John is gone to Walton," said the butler.

"Is Mr. Julius at home?"

"Mr. Julius is gone to London."

"To London?"

"Yes, miss; he went early this morning."

Rose sank back in the carriage, too overcome to weep.

"Is Mr. Ashley within?" asked Violet.

"He's also gone to London, miss."

It was evident that they were both deserted by their lovers. They drove back in horrible silence.

After luncheon, they again called at the Grange--Mrs. St. John had gone out for the day. The next day they called--Mrs. St. John had gone to London.

It would be painful to dwell on the sufferings of these two girls. Wounded pride, wounded love, baffled hope, and wearing doubt were the vultures consuming their hearts.

The next morning's post relieved some of Violet's fears, by bringing her father a letter from Marmaduke, apologizing for not having called to take leave of a family from whom he had received so much kindness, and with whom he had spent such happy hours; but being forced, by his quarrel with Julius, to quit the house at the very earliest, he trusted the omission of a farewell visit would be excused; the more so, as the Vyners were themselves very shortly to come to London, when he hoped to do himself the pleasure of paying them his respects in person, and in person to thank them for their hospitable kindness.

This proved that he at least had not departed in anger. Mrs. Vyner secretly rejoiced at the event, attributing his flight to a sudden resolution to quit her dangerous presence, and attributing the letter to an uncontrollable desire to be with her again.

To Rose this brought no consolation. She had none, except that she must see or meet Mrs. St. John in London, and that she could then explain to her the whole affair.

How eagerly these three women longed to be in London, and with what feverish impatience they set out, when the day at length arrived.