"No, you must still love him best," Violet cries, in all the agony of renunciation.
"But who will love you best?" she asks, innocently. "Mamma, I shall love you best until I grow to be a big lady and have a lover like Polly. Then you know I shall have to care for him!"
Is her best of all love to come from a child not of her own blood, instead of the husband of her vows?
"Yes," Violet answers, in a strange, mirthless tone, while there is a smile on her dry lips. "You must care for him so much that he cannot help loving you. Oh, my darling, the only joy of all this dreary world is love!"
If Denise could hear her young mistress utter that in such a soul-rending tone, her heart would break.
Grandon meanwhile ponders the future, their future. He has had one impulse of the heroically sentimental order, a possible freedom for Violet in the years to come, while she is still young, and a chance with life and fortune to retrieve the mistake into which she was hurried through no fault of her own. Would it be a violation of the divine law? This is not a usual case. She has clearly been defrauded of a great right. Can he restore it to her? If she were poor and dependent, he could give her so much she would hardly miss the other.
He is angry that Eugene and Pauline should flaunt their happiness in her sad eyes. For they have grown very sad. She goes clad in lovely soft raiment now, yet he can recall the little girl in her gray gown, holding up her arms with strength and courage to save Cecil from disaster. He smiles as he calls up the flash in the spirited eyes, as she said, with true motherly instinct, "You shall not scold her!" If the eyes would only flash again!
When he remembers this he cannot relinquish her. It would take too much out of his life. He could not see any other man win her, even if the law made her free. He should hate to think of other lips kissing her with lover's kisses. Ah, he is selfish, jealous still, a man among men, no more generous, just as eager to quaff the beaker of love as any other. Since she is his, he will not give her up. But to keep her in this cold, passive fashion, to have her gentle, obedient, affectionate, when he knows she has a woman's fond, warm soul!
Would a separation awake any longing, any desire? This is one reason why he entertains the plan of the six weeks abroad, yet it is horribly awkward to discuss it with her. Still, it must be done.
It is a rainy Sunday afternoon, and he roams about the house unquietly. Mr. Murray has gone to his partner's, Mrs. Grandon is with Laura, the lovers are in the drawing-room, with Violet at the far end playing propriety. Does it hurt her, he wonders, to have Eugene so foolishly fond of another?