Even the double wickedness of betraying the wife of a
friend and of enticing a woman to her fall had for Fenton, in his
present mood, an unholy fascination. He was too self-analytical to
deceive himself into a supposition that he was in love with Ninitta,
and even his passion was so much under the dominion of his head that he
could have blown it out like a rushlight, had he really desired to be
done with it. He looked at himself with mingled approbation, amusement,
and horror, as he might have regarded a favorite and skilful actor in a
vicious _role_; and the man whose mind is to him merely an
amphitheatre, where games are played for his amusement, is always
dangerous.
As for Ninitta, the processes of her mind were probably quite as
complex as those of his, although they appeared more simple, in virtue
of their being more remote. She had, in the first place, a curious
jealousy of her husband because of his passionate fondness for Nino,
and a dull resentment at the secret conviction that the father had the
gifts and powers which were sure to win more love than the child would
bestow upon her. She could better bear the thought that the boy should
die, than that he should live to love anybody more than he loved her.
It was also true that Grant Herman, large-hearted and generous as he
was, did not know how to make his wife happy.
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