than firm," Dinah said. "You are--cruel."

Never in her wildest moments had she imagined herself making such an
indictment. She marvelled at herself even as it left her lips. But
something seemed to have entered into her, taking away her fear. Not till
long afterwards did she realize that it was her new-found womanhood that
had come upon her all unawares during that poignant interview.

She faced him without a tremor as she uttered the words, and he received
them in a silence so absolute that she went on with scarcely a pause.
"Not only to Isabel, but to everyone; to Scott, to that poor poacher, to
me. You don't believe it, because it is your nature. But it is true all
the same. And I think cruelty is a most dreadful thing. It's a vice that
not all the virtues put together could counter-balance."

"When have I been cruel to you?" he said.

His tone was quiet, his face mask-like; but she thought that fury raged
behind his calm. And still she knew no fear, felt no faintest dread of
consequence.

"All your love-making has been cruel," she said. "Only once--no, twice
now--have you been the least bit kind to me. It's no good talking. You'd
never understand. I've lain awake often in the night with the dread of
you. But"--her voice shook slightly--"I didn't know what I wanted, so
I kept on. Now that I do know--though I shall never have it--it's made a
difference, and I can't go on. You don't want me any more now I've told
you, so it won't hurt you so very badly to let me go."

"You are wrong," he said, and suddenly she knew that out of his silence
or her speech had developed something that was strange and new. His voice
was quick and low, utterly devoid of its customary arrogance. "I want you
more than ever! Dinah--Dinah, I may have been a brute to you. You're
right. I often am a brute. But marry me--only marry me--and I swear to
you that I will be kind!"

His calm was gone. He leaned towards her urgently, his dark face aglow
with a light that was not passion. She had deemed him furious, and
behold, she had him at her feet! Her ogre was gone for ever. He had
crumbled at a touch. She saw before her a man, a man who loved her, a
man whom she might eventually have come to love but for--

She caught her breath in a sharp sob, and put forth a hand in pleading.
"Eustace, don't! Please don't! I can't bear it. You--you must set me
free!"

"You are free as air," he said.

"Am I? Then don't--don't ask me to bind myself again