Should he write, or even go to her straightway and retract what he had said?
His will prevailed, and he did nothing.
The night that followed plagued him with other misgivings.

It seemed more probable now that she had threatened what she would never have the courage to perform.

She meant it at the moment--it declared a truth but an hour after she would listen to commonplace morality or prudence.
Narramore would write to her; she might, perhaps, see him again.

She would cling to the baser hope.
Might but the morrow bring him a letter from London! It brought nothing; and day after day disappointed him.

More than a week passed: he was ill with suspense, but could take no step for setting his mind at rest.