Chapter IV: The Tempest Lours

Immediately on reaching home that night, Marmaduke sat down to read the pages of Petrarch, which had been so significantly marked for him. As he found the passages before quoted, his attention became excessively eager; and having read them with curious emotion, he re-read them with intense care, weighing every line, and interpreting them to the fullest extent.

He let the book fall upon the table, and throwing himself back in his arm chair, allowed the current of his thoughts to take their flattering course.

No man can receive, unmoved, the avowal of a woman's love; and when that avowal breaks through all prudence, and disdains all ties, the flattery is irresistible. To Marmaduke, it had an additional charm: it was the capitulation of an enemy he had almost despaired of conquering. His revenge was at hand!

But now the crisis was so near, his perplexity became tenfold. Now Mrs. Vyner was won, he was condemned to adopt some plan which would both secure his vengeance, yet not lose Violet.

Violet had not been so cold of late. His ideas also became clearer. The agitation of doubt once passed--Mrs. Vyner's declaration having stilled his impatience--his love for Violet resumed its empire. He saw that his vengeance was impossible, if he still thought of her; yet he could not renounce his vengeance. How to attain both objects? He would invent some plan.

He was in anxious doubt. The invention on which he had relied to extricate him when the crisis came was now powerless. He could think of nothing feasible.

Men who scheme are too apt to be caught in their own nets, from this reckless confidence in their resources. They foresee the danger but shut their eyes to it. They propose to avoid it by "some plan." But the vagueness of "some" plan, has to be changed into the precision of one decided plan, when the time for action arrives; and this must be one adequate to the occasion.

The next day Violet accompanied Rose on a visit to Fanny Worsley, who was about to be married. The invitation was eagerly accepted by Violet, for home had become hideous since the fatal discovery of Mrs. Vyner's guilty passion. The agonizing struggles she had gone through on becoming fully aware of her own hopeless love, had sorely tried the strength of her soul; for although she could not doubt that Marmaduke loved her, however inexplicable his relations to Mrs. Vyner, yet she at once saw that these must utterly destroy all hope of ever being united to him, even could she so far overcome her own scruples as to accept him. But the masculine strength of mind with which she was endowed, saved her from being entirely prostrated by the blow. She rose up against misfortune, looked it fixedly, though mournfully, in the face, saw its extent, and resigned herself with stoic courage. Suffer she did, and deeply; but she bore it as an irremediable affliction, and thus, by shutting herself from the wearying agitations of fallacious hopes, saved herself from a great source of pain.

Rose had marked the sudden change in her demeanour, and the traces of violent grief in her face; but all her affectionate questions had been so evidently painful, that she ceased to ask them. The impatience Violet exhibited to be gone, the anxiety to leave home, more and more excited her curiosity, and as the carriage rolled away from the door, and Violet fervently exclaimed "thank God!" Rose twined an arm round her waist, and said,--

"Dearest Violet, tell me what has happened. Something I know has. Your wretchedness is too visible. Do tell me."

Violet burst into tears, and throwing her arms round her sister's neck, kept her tightly embraced for some minutes, sobbing fearfully, and kissing her, but making no effort to speak.

"Talk of it, do dear," said Rose, sobbing with her; "it will comfort you."

Violet only pressed her closer.

"Tell me what it is. Perhaps I shall be able to explain it."

Violet sobbed, and shook her head in despair.

"Dear, dear, Violet! Don't give way so. Tell me what it is. It may be only some misunderstanding. It may be cleared up by a word."

Not a word escaped from the wretched girl. Rose wiped away her sister's fast falling tears, and then wiped her own eyes, and kissed and entreated, but no answer could she get, beyond a sob, a moan, or a violent pressure of the hand.

In this way they rode on for some miles.

Exhausted with weeping, Violet closed her eyes, and dozed awhile upon her sister's shoulder. When she awoke she was calm again. A deep, unutterable sadness, sharpened her pallid features; and, in a low voice, she said,--

"Dear Rose, let me beg of you to ask me no questions respecting my grief: it is irreparable, and it cannot be mentioned. I shall have strength to bear it, at least I hope so--but not strength to talk of it. Leave me to my own reflections and to time. Let them know at Fanny's that I have been ill, and am not yet recovered; but give no hint of any cause for sorrow."