"Yes—very—very."
"But, suppose I run away into the country, what will he imagine? That I am afraid of him, afraid of myself; that I love him, and avoid him. Do you wish him to think that? You do not. Then we remain."
"But ... and you ... will you continue to see him?"
"Why not? If I am to avoid him let it be done at once. If not, let us treat him as if he had never made that silly declaration. He will soon get over this. It is only a passing fancy. He saw me a mere girl, wedded to one old enough to be my father, and imagined, as all men would imagine, that I should be easily persuaded to forget what was due to my husband, and to myself. I have undeceived him. My coldness and firmness will soon cure him. He will then think of Violet."
She ceased. He took vast pinches of snuff in an agitated absent manner, but made no remark. She perceived that she had gained the day, and left him to his reflections.
Bitter enough those reflections were. The explicit avowal had staggered him—had taken from him the very weapon he was to use; but it had in no way alleviated his jealous anguish. He could not answer her—yet could not satisfy himself. The reference she had made to his age still rung in his ears, and told him plainly that his rival would one day be happy.
That afternoon Violet and Rose returned. He received them with unwonted tenderness, for his heart ever yearned to those whom he had excluded from it, and he felt bitter remorse for having sacrificed them to his wife. Violet was peculiarly dear to him at this moment. He felt for her misplaced attachment, and remembered how ill she had been treated at home. He folded her to his breast, with a lovingness which brought the tears into her eyes, and as she sat down on his knee, one arm around his neck, delighted with this change in his manner, she divined at once the real cause of the change. As it was Mrs. Vyner who had estranged him from her, so must it be Mrs. Vyner who had brought back his love.
It was a touching sight to see this parent and child united by a common sorrow, mutually pitying and mutually comforting each other, having in one embrace forgotten all that had once been distrust and coldness, and now possessed by that overflowing love which, in its exaggeration, desires to atone for past coldness.
It was not what they said; for few words passed between them; it was their eloquent looks, significant pressure of hands, convulsive embraces, and tones pregnant with meaning. The father mutely demanded forgiveness, and the child demanded a continuance of love.
After an hour of this intense emotion they grew calmer, and began to talk of indifferent things. From time to time they hovered about the name of Marmaduke, and betrayed, in their very recurrence to the subject, and hesitation in speaking openly of it, how predominant it was in their minds. At last they ventured on the name. It is impossible to convey an idea of the conversation which ensued, because it was conducted in phrases of the most guarded vagueness, but made full of meaning by the looks which accompanied them. Slowly, but irresistibly, the conviction came upon her, that her father had discovered his wife's guilty passion; or, at least, suspected it. Her object, therefore, was, if possible, to persuade him that Marmaduke came there for herself; and she even went so far as to laugh faintly at his efforts to make himself agreeable to Mrs. Vyner, by way of using a stepmother's influence in his favour.