He ceased almost to hold communication with the world; shut up in his study he led a solitary, meditative, studious life, strangely at variance with his former occupations. A noble resolution had taken possession of his soul; the conviction that he was loved by so great a woman made him desirous of becoming more worthy of her love. Knowing Violet's high thoughts and sympathy with greatness, he resolved to make a name. Parliament, the great field of Englishmen's ambition, was the arena chosen for the contest. His previous education had but ill-fitted him to make a display there; yet to strong will, energy, and ability what can be denied?
He set himself to the task with the impetuous ardour which characterized all his acts. He studied history, political economy, and what may be called political ethics. He read and re-read the orators, ancient and modern, not with a view of copying their peculiarities, but to draw therefrom certain general conclusions respecting the art by which masses of men are swayed. Burke, the great thinker, great orator, and incomparable writer, was his constant companion.
In this solitude his mind became strengthened, nourished, and enlarged, and at the same time his moral nature became more developed and purified. Nothing could ever eradicate certain defects of his organization—defects which were the shadows thrown by his best qualities. Nothing could ever have made him calm, moderate, unprejudiced, or self-sacrificing. Passionate, reckless, and excitable Nature had made him; and no education, no trials could alter his disposition. But these very qualities, with their accompanying defects, fitted him for an orator, whose splendid enthusiasm, overbearing impetuosity, audacious courage, and irresistible bursts of passion were capable of swaying mankind. He was born to command and to lead; education and a high purpose were now fitting him for the office.
While he was thus acquiring the means wherewith an honourable name is made, he was also gaining those clear moral ideas by which alone a great name can long be honourably maintained. The more he became aware of the imperishable importance of high morality, the more painfully did he recoil at the remembrance of his unpardonable conduct with Mrs. Vyner. The clearer his moral perceptions grew, the more iniquitous, the more contemptible appeared his passion for vengeance.
"What must Violet think of me?" was his frequent self-questioning; and he shuddered at the idea. Henry Taylor has profoundly said, that conscience is, in most men, the anticipation of the opinion of others. It is so in all men. It is the horror we feel at contemplating the probable judgment which those we respect and love will form on our acts. So it was with Marmaduke. He had learned to view his conduct in its true light; he doubted not that Violet must look at it with the same loathing; and bitter reproaches assailed him. Often and often did he dwell upon that part of her letter wherein she excused him; but it seemed so slight, he could not believe her wholly sincere. She was sincere when she wrote it, but would not subsequent reflection show her, as it had shown him, the whole affair under another aspect? It would—it must.
He forgot one thing: that he looked upon his error with the anxious and probing severity of one who repents, and that she looked upon it with the blindness of one who loves!
For the sake of clearness, I have told you in this chapter the history of several months, and may now leave Marmaduke at his studies to return to the other persons whose fortunes were more varied.
CHAPTER VII.
POOR VYNER.
Heav'n has no rage like love to hatred turned,
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
BYRON.