Grace went in, and sat down on the bed.
"What a coldness this is at my heart!" she said aloud to herself,
trying to smile; but she could not: and she sat on the bedside,
without taking off her bonnet and shawl, her hands hanging listlessly
by her side, her head drooping on her bosom, till her mother called
her to tea: then she was forced to rouse herself, and went out,
composed, but utterly wretched.
Tom walked up homeward, very ill at ease. He had played, to use his
nomenclature, two trump cards running, and was by no means satisfied
that he had played them well. He had no right, certainly, to be
satisfied with either move; for both had been made in a somewhat evil
spirit, and certainly for no very disinterested end.
That was a view of the matter, however, which never entered his mind;
there was only that general dissatisfaction with himself which is,
though men try hard to deny the fact, none other than the supernatural
sting of conscience. He tried "to lay to his soul the flattering
unction" that he might, after all, be of use to Mrs. Vavasour, by
using his power over her husband: but he knew in his secret heart that
any move of his in that direction was likely only to make matters
worse; that to-day's explosion might only have sent home the hapless
Vavasour in a more irritable temper than ever. And thinking over many
things, backward and forward, he saw his own way so little, that he
actually condescended to go and "pump" Frank Headley.
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