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.