She seldom ventured on
reflection now--still less on self-examination; but she could not help
being herself sensible of the change: thoughts that she would have
shrunk back from in horror not so long ago (if she could have
comprehended them fully) had ceased now to startle or repel her as she
looked them in the face. Do not suppose for an instant that there was a
corresponding alteration in her outward demeanor, or that it displayed
any wildness or eccentricity. Melodrama, etc., may be very successful at
a trans-pontine theatre, but it is unpardonably out of place in our
_salons_. The Tresilyan understood the duties of her social, if not of
her moral position (so long as the first was not forfeited) as well as
the strictest duenna alive. Though she might choose to defy the world's
censure, she never dreamed of giving an opening to its ridicule; she was
less capable of _gaucherie_ than of a crime. In her bearing toward
others she was just the same as ever; if any thing, rather more
brilliant and fascinating, and, if crossed or interfered with, perhaps a
shade more haughtily independent.
Only when alone with Royston did she betray herself.
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