He was
accordingly, somewhat disposed to temporize, though there was still a
lurking desire in his mind, to demand an explanation of those
supercilious glances which had so offended him.
But the meditations of neither party consumed one twentieth part of the
time that we have taken in hinting what they were. With the departure of
Edith, and the closing of the door after her, Colonel Colleton, with all
his storms, approached to the attack. The expression of scorn upon his
face had given way to one of anger wholly. His glance seemed meant to
penetrate the bosom of the youth with a mortal stab--it was hate, rather
than anger, that he looked. Yet it was evident that he made an effort to
subdue his wrath--its full utterance at least--but he could not chase
the terrible cloud from his haughty brow.
The youth, getting chafed beneath his gaze, returned him look for look,
and his brows grew dark and lowering also; and, for anger, they gave
back defiance. This silent, but expressive dialogue, was the work of a
single moment of time.
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