The consequence was, that Mrs. Vyner kept within the programme of Platonic love; and this she managed without exasperating Marmaduke beyond endurance. An adroit woman has a thousand ways of preserving herself, and Mrs. Vyner was exceedingly adroit.
Meanwhile, she indulged in her passion without troubling herself much about consequences. She was content with keeping Marmaduke her slave. The delight that gave her is indescribable. She was always inventing some new plan to assure herself of it.
One day he was seated with her in the boudoir, which I have not yet described, but which, as the temple where she received her devotees, merits a few words. It was exquisitely fitted up. To throw the proper light upon her blonde beauty, the furniture was of a pale blue; and the curtains which, in lieu of a door, separated the boudoir from the bed-room, were of blue velvet. The walls were painted: a light, elegant border of arabesque, and a centre piece of flowers on a light blue ground. A few statuettes, and some recherché knicknacks, were distributed with art about the room.
Dressed in a light peignoir, the deep rich lace trimmings of which only half concealed her dazzling bosom, she looked a most seductive syren in this retreat, and it is no wonder that Marmaduke's senses were captivated.
On that day, she was fretful. Never had he known her so exasperated against her husband, and against the wretched bondage in which she was held as wife to a man she could not love. To hear her talking about "incompatibilities," and the "degradation" of being linked to one man, while her heart was another's, you would have supposed she had been forced into the match, had been sold by some mercenary parent. From time to time, she would throw up her eyes and sighing exclaim,—
"No escape! to think there is no escape!"
Marmaduke could not comprehend this. He understood clearly enough that she never had loved Vyner; but why these bitter complaints at this moment?
The truth is, she was about to make a great, a wanton experiment of her power over him; she wished to see how far his passion had made him her blind and willing instrument; and she suddenly interrupted an eloquent speech of his by,—
"Of what use is protestation? You say you love me. You say that you would move heaven and earth to gain me; yet you do nothing: it is all talk."
"Do! What can I do?"