Lucile By Owen Meredith [i.e. E. R. B. Lytton] |
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 | Lucile |  |
125
XXIII.
Alfred Vargrave stood still,Torn, distracted in heart, and divided in will.
He turn'd to Lucile's farewell letter to him,
And read over her words; rising tears made them dim;
‘Doubt is over: my future is fix'd now,’ they said,
‘My course is decided,’ Her course? what! to wed
With this insolent rival! With that thought there shot
Through his heart an acute jealous anguish. But not
Even thus could his clear worldly sense quite excuse
Those strange words to the Duke. She was free to refuse
Himself, free the Duke to accept, it was true:
Even then though, this eager and strange rendezvous
How imprudent! To some unfrequented lone inn,
And so late (for the night was about to begin)—
She, companionless there!—had she bidden that man?
A fear, vague, and formless, and horrible, ran
Through his heart.
| Lucile | |