But his demonstrations of affection only made her grief the greater, his caressing whining sympathy only made her more painfully aware of her need for sympathy, and she sank back in a paroxysm of tears which lasted some time. Then rising, she dried her eyes, gulped down her sighs with a strong effort, and said,—"I will endure!"
The passion of her grief had passed, and she was calm.
CHAPTER IV.
THE TEMPEST LOURS.
Immediately on reaching home that night, Marmaduke sat down to read the pages of Petrarch, which had been so significantly marked for him. As he found the passages before quoted, his attention became excessively eager; and having read them with curious emotion, he re-read them with intense care, weighing every line, and interpreting them to the fullest extent.
He let the book fall upon the table, and throwing himself back in his arm chair, allowed the current of his thoughts to take their flattering course.
No man can receive, unmoved, the avowal of a woman's love; and when that avowal breaks through all prudence, and disdains all ties, the flattery is irresistible. To Marmaduke, it had an additional charm: it was the capitulation of an enemy he had almost despaired of conquering. His revenge was at hand!
But now the crisis was so near, his perplexity became tenfold. Now Mrs. Vyner was won, he was condemned to adopt some plan which would both secure his vengeance, yet not lose Violet.
Violet had not been so cold of late. His ideas also became clearer. The agitation of doubt once passed—Mrs. Vyner's declaration having stilled his impatience—his love for Violet resumed its empire. He saw that his vengeance was impossible, if he still thought of her; yet he could not renounce his vengeance. How to attain both objects? He would invent some plan.
He was in anxious doubt. The invention on which he had relied to extricate him when the crisis came was now powerless. He could think of nothing feasible.