"I thank you deeply;" and the next moment, according to a bad custom, even then prevalent, the ladies of the party rose, and left the gentlemen to pursue their revel unchecked.
We must go back a little, however; for during the meal we have followed only one little group at that long table. What was the conduct, what were the thoughts of Lord Fulmer, while all this was passing? He sat beside Iola in anguish, the anguish of doubt and jealousy; and, conscious that his mood was not fitted to win or please, he struggled with it sorely. He determined to use every effort, both to conquer himself, and to gain her love; but it is difficult to conquer an enemy without when there is an enemy within; and the very effort embarrassed him. If he sat silent for a minute or two, he was revolving what he should say. When he did speak, it was not the tone or the words of the heart which came forth; the whole was studied; the effort was too evident. He felt it, yet could not help it; and Iola's reply did not generally aid or encourage him. It was courteous but cold, civil but not kind--very brief too; and the moment it was uttered, she fell into thought again. It was clear there was a struggle in her mind, as well as his, and the only difference was, that she did not strive to conceal it. He was angry with her and with himself; with her, because she did not put on at least the semblance of regard she did not feel; with himself, because he knew that his own want of self-command was every moment betraying the interests of a passion which was growing upon him more and more, even under doubt and disappointment. Still he struggled, still he strove to please, or, at least, to amuse; but it was in vain. His words were cold and formal, and Iola was grave, absent, thoughtful, so that no conversation lasted more than a minute. At length he gave it up. He struggled no more. He yielded to the feelings within; but they impelled him in a very different course from that of Iola. She saw, heard, marked, very little of what passed at the table. Buried in her own thoughts, she only roused herself from time to time, to reply to her uncle, who sat at her side, or to answer the abbess, who was placed opposite, or to give a momentary timid look towards the face of Chartley.
Fulmer, on the contrary, was full of eager observation, quickened by the passions in his heart. "I will know all," he thought. "I will force Hungerford to tell me all--ay, this very night. I cannot live in this torture any longer? and if I find it as I think, that man shall answer me with his heart's best blood. What right had he to win the affections of my contracted wife. He must have known that she was so. Every one knew it; but I will be satisfied. Hungerford shall explain his words before he lays his head upon his pillow."
He could not be content to wait for that explanation, however; and, as I have said, he watched, in order to ascertain, as far as possible, how far the evil, which he suspected, had gone. Three times he saw the eyes of Iola raised for an instant to Chartley's face, and then as speedily withdrawn. Oh, what would he have given, in some mysterious glass, to have seen a picture of the emotions which were passing in her breast. The first time she looked at him, her colour was heightened the moment she withdrew her eyes. He could not tell why, and he puzzled himself to divine the cause. Was it that Chartley was talking with another, and that his tone was gay? Or was it that she found the eyes of the abbess upon her, and, blushed from consciousness. The second time she looked that way, a slight passing smile followed--the mere shadow of a smile. Was it that Chartley, fallen into a fit of absence, committed some strange error, which made those around him laugh. The next glance she gave left her in deeper thought than ever; and to him her eyes seemed to swim in bright dew; but she dropped the deep veil of long silken lashes over the glistening drop, and it was hidden.
In the mean time, what marked he in Chartley's conduct? It was the same in some respects as Iola's, but different in others. He often looked to the spot where she was seated; but it was in a calmer, firmer, less timid manner. Once or twice his gaze was earnest, intent, full of deep thought. There was no levity in it, none of the confidence of knowing that he was loved. It was a look of almost painful interest, deep, tender, grave; and once he fixed his eyes upon Fulmer himself, and gazed at him long, notwithstanding an angry expression which came upon the young lord's face. Busied altogether with what was passing in his own mind, Chartley saw not that irritable look, never fancied that it was called up by his own. He scanned every feature of his face, as if he were scrutinizing some inanimate object which could not perceive or comprehend the examination it was undergoing. And yet that gaze almost drove Fulmer mad; and even the way in which it was withdrawn, the fit of thought which succeeded, and then the start, and the resumption of conversation with those around, all irritated the young man more.
Fortunately, some time elapsed before the gentlemen there present were left without the restraint of ladies' presence; for Fulmer had time to recover himself; and, though still highly irritated, to recollect what was due to Iola, to himself, and to his entertainer. He resolved to bridle his passion, and to guide it; and, could he have kept the resolutions which he formed--he did not, as the reader will see--though not altogether good ones, they were much better than the wild impulses of passion.
"There must be no quarrel about her," he thought. "I must not mingle her name is our enmity--I have no right to do that. 'Tis easy to provoke him upon some other subject; nor will I too hastily do that, for the good old lord's sake. I will irritate him by degrees, till the actual offence comes from him; and then to justify myself with my sword is a right. I can do it with all courtesy too, and I will."
If man's resolutions are generally rendered vain and fruitless, by the force of circumstances, when they affect things over which he has no control, it is sad to think that they should be so often rendered ineffectual, by passions, when they refer only to his own conduct, over which he should have the mastery. So, however, it is often--almost always--I had well nigh said, ever. It was not otherwise with Fulmer. His resolutions passed away, under the heat of his temper, like the shadowy clouds of morning. Ere five minutes were over, he was in full career to irritate, if not to insult, Chartley. His resolutions to be courteous, to be moderate, were forgotten, and his tone was very offensive.
But the calm indifference of manner on Chartley's part, while it provoked him, frustrated his purpose. His rival, for as such he now fully looked upon him, heard any words he addressed to him calmly, replied to them briefly, and then seemed to withdraw his thoughts from him altogether. It was impossible to engage him in any irritating conversation, his answers were so short, so tranquil, so conclusive; and Fulmer, driven at length to seek more plain and open means of offence, began to touch upon the cause of Chartley's having fallen under the king's displeasure, thinking that thus, at least, he should draw him forth from his reserve. But here old Lord Calverly at once interposed.
"Nay, nay, my noble friend," he said. "These are subjects that are never spoken of, except when they are matters of mere business; but methinks it is time to seek repose. My noble Lord Chartley, I will once more conduct you to your lodging. After to-night, you will be able, methinks, to find your way yourself;" and he at once rose from the table.