"Dearest, dearest Violet, we shall meet again—you will let me see you—will you not?"
She was silent, struggling.
They walked on a few paces; then he again said,—
"You will not banish me entirely—you will from time to time——"
"No, Marmaduke," she said, solemnly; "no, it will not be right. You need not look so pained—I—have I nothing to overcome when I forego the delight of seeing you? But it must not be. You know that it cannot be."
"I know nothing of the kind!" he impetuously exclaimed; "I only know that you do not love me!"
She looked reproachfully at him; but his head was turned away.
"Cold, cold as marble," he muttered as they walked on.
She did not answer him. Lovers are always unreasonable and unjust. He was furious at her "coldness;" she was hurt at his misunderstanding her. She could have implored him to be more generous; but he gave her no encouragement—he spoke no word—kept his look averted. Thus neither tried to explain away the other's misconception; neither smoothed the other's ruffled anger. In silence they walked on, environed by their pride. The longer they kept silent, the bitterer grew their feelings;—the more he internally reprobated her for coldness, the more she was hurt at his refusal to acknowledge the justness of her resolution, after all that had passed between them by letter.
In this painful state of feeling, they joined their companions just as the boats were got ready.