CHAPTER VII.
MUTUAL SELF-EXAMINATION.
The entrance of tea changed the conversation, and changed also the positions of the party. Cecil relinquished his place by the side of Blanche, much to her regret, and managed to get near Violet, who was anxious to make up for her previous coldness and contempt. She felt that she had wronged him. She admitted to the full his explanation of the incident which had so changed her feelings, and, with the warmth of a generous nature owning its error, she endeavoured to make him understand that she had wronged him. Two happier hearts did not beat that night.
Could they have read aright their feelings, however, they would have seen something feverish and unhealthy in this warmth. It was not the sympathy of sympathetic souls but a mutual desire to forget, and have forgotten the feelings which had agitated them a little while ago.
Mrs. Meredith Vyner was more taciturn than was her wont. The covert insinuations Marmaduke had thrown out puzzled her extremely; while they were in sufficient keeping with what had gone before, to prevent her supposing he attached no meaning to them.
"Could he really suppose her in love with Cecil?" she asked herself; "and was he serious in thus presenting himself in the character of an Iago?"
Much did she vex her brain, and to little purpose. The truth is, she was attributing to these words a coherence and significance which they had not in Marmaduke's mind. She assumed them to be indications of some deeply-laid scheme; whereas they were the mere spurts of the moment, seized upon by him as they presented themselves, and without any ulterior purpose. He had no plan; but he was deeply enraged against her, and lashed her with the first whip at hand. Had he been as cunning as she was, he would never have betrayed himself in this way; but being a man of vehement passions, and accustomed to give way to his impulses, it was only immense self-command which enabled him to contain himself so much as he did. Julius went home to dream of Rose. Marmaduke to pass a sleepless night thinking of Violet. He had never seen a woman he admired so much. For the first time in his life, he had encountered a gaze that did not bend beneath his own; for the first time he had met with one whose will seemed as indomitable as his own, whose soul was as passionate. It was very different from the effect which Mary Hardcastle had excited: it was not so irritating, but more voluptuous. In one word, the difference was this: Mary excited the lower, Violet the higher qualities of his nature. There was reverence in his feeling for Violet; in his feeling for Mary there had been nothing but a sensual fascination.
Maxwell was restless. He was growing very jealous of Marmaduke—Mrs. Vyner's interest not escaping him. Violet was also sleepless. She thought of Marmaduke, and of the two interchanged glances which told her how they had both read alike the character of her mother; and wondered by what penetration he had discovered it. She thought him also a magnificent—a manly man; but she thought no more. Cecil occupied her mind.
As I have said, her first impulse was to admit to the full Cecil's explanation, and to revoke her sentence of contempt. As she lay meditating on the whole of the circumstances, and examined his character calmly, she was forced to confess that if he did not deserve the accusation of cowardice, yet by his own showing his first impulse was to secure his own safety, and then to think of others. This looked like weakness and selfishness: two odious vices in her eyes.
The result of her meditations was, that Cecil had regained some portion of her liking, but had lost for ever all hold upon her esteem. Pretty much the same change took place in his mind with regard to her. He admitted that she was high-minded, generous, lovely—but not loveable. There was something in her which awed him, and which he called repulsive.