Part of his cheek was
alone perceptible, and that was burning red.
All this was the work of a moment. The Duke stared, turned pale, closed
the door without a sound, and retired unperceived. When he was sure that
he could no longer be observed, he gasped for breath, a cold dew covered
his frame, his joints loosened, and his sinking heart gave him that
sickening sensation when life appears utterly worthless, and ourselves
utterly contemptible. Yet what had he witnessed? A confirmation of what
he had never doubted. What was this woman to him? Alas! how supreme was
the power with which she ruled his spirit! And this Dacre, this Arundel
Dacre, how he hated him! Oh! that they were hand to hand, and sword to
sword, in some fair field, and there decide it! He must conquer; he felt
that. Already his weapon pierced that craven heart, and ripped open that
breast which was to be the pillow of---. Hell! hell! He rushed to his
room, and began a letter to Caroline St. Maurice; but he could not
write; and after scribbling over a quire of paper, he threw the sheets
to the flames, and determined to ride up to town to-morrow.
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