"I wonder whether it still rains?" he said, after a few moments' silence, and walked to the window to look out.
Left thus sitting by herself—an emblem of the far more terrible desertion which was to follow—Violet looked in upon her desolate heart, and felt appalled at the prospect. The imperious cry of passion sounded within her, and would not be gagged: the pent-up tide burst away the barriers, and rushed precipitately onwards, carrying before it all scruples like straws upon a stream.
"Marmaduke!" she exclaimed.
He turned from the window; she had half-risen from her seat; he walked up to her.
She flung herself into his arms.
"Is this true, Violet? Speak—are you mine—mine?"
She pressed him closer to her. It is only men who find words in such moments; and Marmaduke was as eloquent as love and rapture could make him.
When she did speak, it was in a low fluttering tone, her pale face suffused with blushes, as she told him, that to live apart from him was impossible;—either he must stay, or take her with him.
Meanwhile, Vyner had been prettily rated by Blanche for his dulness in not perceiving that the lovers wanted to be alone.
"But are you certain, Blanche, that they are lovers? For my part, I wish it were so; but although Violet certainly has a regard for him, I have reason to believe, that he has none for her."