son, and it will be a pretty severe one I
can tell you if you attempt to disobey me."

"What do you want me to do?" breathed Dinah.

She stood up at the harsh behest, but she was trembling so much that her
knees would scarcely support her. Her heart was throbbing violently, and
each throb seemed as if it would choke her. She had seen that inflexibly
grim look often before upon her mother's face, and she knew from bitter
experience that it portended merciless treatment.

Mrs. Bathurst did not reply immediately. She went to a little table in a
corner which Dinah used for writing purposes, and opened a blotter that
lay upon it. From this she took a sheet of note-paper and laid it in
readiness, found Dinah's pen, opened the ink-pot. Then, over her
shoulder, she flung a curt command: "Come here!"

Dinah went, every nerve in her body tingling, her face and hands cold as
ice.

Mrs. Bathurst glanced at her with a contemptuous smile. "Sit down, you
little fool!" she said. "Now, you take that pen and write at my
dictation!"

Dinah shrank at the rough words. She felt like a child about to receive
corporal punishment. The vindictive force of the woman seemed to beat her
down. Writhe and strain as she might, she was bound to suffer both the
pain and the indignity to the uttermost limit; for she lacked the
strength to break free.

She did not sit down however. She remained standing by the little table.

"Mother," she said through her white lips, "what do you want me to do?"

She could scarcely keep her teeth from chattering, and Mrs. Bathurst
noted the fact with another grim smile.

"What am I going to make you do would be more to the purpose, my girl,
wouldn't it?" she said. "Sit down there, and you'll find out!"

Dinah leaned upon the little table to steady herself. "Tell me what it is
I am to do!" she said.

"Ah! That's better." A note of bitter humour sounded in Mrs. Bathurst's
voice. "Sit down!"

She thrust out a bony hand, and gripped her by the shoulder, forcing her
downwards.

Dinah dropped into the chair, and sat motionless.

"Take your pen!" Mrs. Bathurst commanded.

She hesitated; and instantly, with a violent movement, her mother
snatched it up and held it in front of her.

"Take it!"

Dinah took it with fingers so numb that they were almost powerless.

"Now," said Mrs. Bathurst, "I will tell you what you are going to do. You
are going to write to Sir Eustace at my dictation, and tell him that you