Yes, the thought came whirling into his disordered brain with stunning force. He had the power to change everything for her. If she were in tears, he could dry them instantly; if her heart was beating with fear, he could allay all its terror. He could not undo what he had done, but he could go farther and, as far as she was concerned, give her complete protection and happiness. As he thought of her, as she had been last evening, in the soft shades of the garden, as her image came before him, radiant, inspiring, irresistible, in those moments of ecstasy, he thought he would do that. It was not what he had thought of, wished or desired, when he had come there; but neither was this. To enter his friend's home welcomed by all, and then to steal the fairest ornament there, to leave misery and wretchedness where he had found joyous innocence, unquestioning love and trust....
No, he could not do this. A sense of being dishonoured, if he did, came over him. Never in his life yet had he done a mean or cruel action, and somehow, looked at in all its lights, this seemed to be both.
Well, he would do that; he would give up all other views and thoughts for his future, and he would marry Regina.
This resolve came rolling into his mind on the flood-tide of his troubled thoughts, and found a harbour there.
It was easier for it to do so, because of the very real passion he had for her. Of all the women he had known, none had given him a greater joy than she had, and the idea of possessing her, and her love and youth, and all her passionate impulses, chaining them to himself only, had its seduction.
Everest had reached the meridian of his years, and already, through the green woods of his life, was stealing the cold whisper of the coming winter of age, but with Regina he forgot it; she seemed to enwrap him in her eighteen years, to hold the cup of elixir of eternal youth to his lips. With her warm arms about him, her fresh, joyful heart beating on his, it seemed the spring of life must always stay with him. He could not part with her, he would keep her, and know again and again with her those happy hours that were worth all the world could give. Full of the new determination, he rose, and going over to the mantelpiece he closed the open velvet case that contained the perfect face, the delicate, cameo-like features of his cousin, and laid it away amongst other cases, books and papers. That idea was over; that matter was of the past.
He found his writing materials and wrote a few lines to Regina.
He did not see her till she came in at the last moment before luncheon, and took her place at the table. He felt afraid to look much at her, lest his eyes should in any way betray him to the others, but one glance at her face told him that she looked pale, and as if she had not slept much the previous night.
Time seemed a blank until the hour arrived when he could start for his afternoon walk, and then he hastened his steps as much as possible, dreading some interruption, some hindrance to seeing her. He felt he could not exist longer, unless he could have speech with her. When he came in sight of the garden he saw the door stood open, and beyond it, against the deep green within, her white lace dress was visible. He hurried forward, and in another moment the gate was shut upon them and their embrace. She had come to meet him. She was not, as he had tortured himself by imagining, tear-stained, broken and drooping, full of sadness and reproaches. She was smiling, fresh, radiant, as usual, with her face full now of rose and pearl, lifted to his, and her soft arms tightly twined round his neck.