If to strike an adversary dumb is the tongue's triumph, Mrs. Gaunt was victorious: for Griffith gasped, but did not reply.
They faced each other, pale with fury; but no more words.
No: an ominous silence succeeded this lamentable answer, like the silence that follows a thunder-clap.
Griffith stood still awhile, benumbed as it were, by the cruel stroke; then cast one speaking look of anguish and reproach upon her, drew himself haughtily up, and stalked away like a wounded lion.
Well said the ancients that anger is a short madness. When we reflect in cold blood on the things we have said in hot, how impossible they seem! how out of character with our real selves! And this is one of the recognized symptoms of mania.
There were few persons could compare with Mrs. Gaunt in native magnanimity; yet how ungenerous a stab had she given.
And had he gone on, she would have gone on; but when he turned silent at her bitter thrust, and stalked away from her, she came to herself almost directly.
She thought, "Good God! what have I said to him?"
And the flush of shame came to her cheek, and her eyes filled with tears.
He saw them not; he had gone away, wounded to the heart.