Strange, that a broken spring should have an effect which no argument could have! Morley had hardened himself against Lieberg's persuasions; but the broken spring gave him an excuse for staying, which was valid to himself; and though it could hold good but for one day, that was all Lieberg wanted. It was enough to let his words have their effect in silence.
"That is unfortunate!" replied Morley; and, retiring to his own chamber, he sent the courier to have the carriage repaired at once; but in the meanwhile he thought of all that Lieberg had said, and dressed himself hastily, to go to the house of Veronica.
There was one point rested on his mind, more than all the rest of Lieberg's persuasions. He had alluded to the conduct of Juliet Carr, almost in the same terms which had been used by Harry Martin. Indeed the latter had never mentioned Juliet's name; but an eager and impetuous character, like that of Morley Ernstein, always applies what others say vaguely, to the subject most interesting to itself at the time.
On this point, then, he paused, and pondered with exactly the same train of thought which Lieberg could have desired, asking himself--"Is it, then, true? Is it, then, self-evident to everybody but myself, that my feelings have been sported with, my heart trampled upon, my love despised, and rejected without reason, without cause? And shall I cast away my chance of happiness with another, on the account of one who so treats me?" But then, again, came the question--had he that chance of happiness with another? Did that fascinating being really love him? Was he not deceiving himself, in reading all that was strange and peculiar in her manner as marks of a growing feeling new to her heart?
With confusion of mind and thought hardly describable, Morley buried his eyes in his hands, as if to let the troubled current of ideas work itself clear. But it was in vain he did so, and finishing his toilette hastily, he snatched up his hat, and issued forth. In a few minutes the gondola glided up to the steps of Veronica's house, the door opened to admit him, the servant did not even go on to announce him. All spoke as plainly as signs can speak, that he was regarded in that dwelling as no other person was regarded; that he was one and alone in the favour of its mistress, and that her feelings spread themselves around to her dependents.
He went on up the stairs, then, with a quick step, and a beating heart; but as he did so, in passing the window of an ante-room, that overhung one of the canals, there was the gliding rush of a gondola through the water below, and voices speaking as the boat was pushed along. It was Italian they were talking; but one sweet voice was very like that of Juliet Carr, and Morley paused, and trembled. Reader, though he was fascinated and attracted, though admiration and regard--ay, and passion, had each its share, Morley Ernstein did not love Veronica--he could think of another at a moment like that, and he did not love Veronica!
He heard her move in the next chamber, however, and went on. She was paler than usual, but her paleness was not a defect, but rather the contrary. She looked beautiful, though she was not beautiful, and her dark resplendent eyes were full of soul and life; while over the whole of the rest of her face, and of her exquisite figure, there was an air of languor that contrasted strangely, but finely, with the light and fire of those dark orbs.
"You have been long this morning," she said, in a voice, every tone of which was music. "Why have you come so late?--You are agitated, too;" and she gazed in his face for a moment, while similar and still greater agitation took possession of her whole frame. Her eyes gradually sank to the ground, her cheek became crimson, her hand trembled in his, her whole form shook in every limb. Morley felt that she was sinking, and, catching her in his arms, he supported her to the sofa, at the other side of the room.
"Veronica!" he said--"Veronica! what is this?"
"Ask me not--ask me not!" she replied, putting away his hand, and covering her own eyes. "Ask me nothing, Morley. Tear not away the veil from my own sight. Make me not own that I have deceived you--that I have deceived myself. Oh! leave me, leave me, and forget me!"