CHAPTER XVIII
THE TRUTH
At Scott's quiet summons Dinah entered. What she had passed throughduring those minutes of waiting was written in her face. She lookeddeathly.
Sir Eustace did not move to meet her. He stood by the table, veryupright, very stern, uncompromisingly silent.
Dinah gave him one quivering glance, and turned appealingly to Scott.
"Don't be nervous!" he said gently. "There is no need. I have told himyour wish."
She was terrified, but the ordeal had to be faced. She summoned all herstrength, and went forward.
"Oh, Eustace," she said piteously, "I am so dreadfully sorry."
He looked down at her, his face like a marble mask. "So," he said, "youwant to throw me over!"
She clasped her hands very tightly before her. "Oh, I know it's hatefulof me," she said.
He made a slight, disdainful gesture. "Did you make up your mind or didScott make it up for you?"
"No, no!" she cried in distress. "It was not his doing. I--I just toldhim, that was all."
"And you now desire him for a witness," suggested Sir Eustace cynically.
Dinah looked again towards Scott. He stood against the mantelpiece, asgrimly upright as his brother and again oddly she was struck by thesimilarity between them. She could not have said wherein it lay, but shehad never seen it more marked.
He spoke very quietly in answer to her look. "I have promised to stay foras long as you want me, but if you wish to be alone with Eustace for afew minutes, I will wait in the conservatory."
"Yes, let him do that!" Imperiously Eustace accepted the suggestion. "Weshall not keep him long."
Dinah stood hesitating. Scott was looking at her very steadily andreassuringly. His eyes seemed to be telling her that she had nothing tofear. But he would not move without her word, and in the end reluctantlyshe gave in.
"Very well," she said, in a low voice. "If--if you will wait!"
"I will," Scott said.
He limped across the room to the open door, passed through, closed itsoftly behind him. And Dinah was left to face her monster alone.
She did not look at Sir Eustace in the first dreadful moments thatfollowed Scott's exit. She was horribly afraid. There was to hersomething inexpressibly ruthless in his very silence. She longed yetdreaded to hear him speak.
He did not do so for many seconds, and she thought by his utter stillnessthat he must be listening to the wild throbbing of her heart.
Then at last, just as the tension of waiting was becoming unbearable andshe was on the verge of piteous entreaty, he seated himself on the edgeof the table and spoke.
"Well," he said, "we have got to get at the root of this trouble somehow.You don't propose to throw me over without telling me why, I suppose?"
His voice was perfectly calm. She even fancied that he was faintlysmiling as he uttered the words, but she could not look at him to see.She found it difficult enough to speak in answer.
"I know I am treating you very badly," she said, wringing her claspedhands in her agitation. "You--of course you can make me marry you.I've promised myself to you. You have the right. But if you willonly--only let me go, I am sure it will be much better for you too.Because--because--I've found out--I've found out--that I don't love you."
It was the greatest effort she had ever made in her life. She wonderedafterwards how she had ever brought herself to accomplish it. It was sohard--so hideously hard--to face him, this man who loved her sooverwhelmingly, and tell him that he had failed to win her love inreturn. And at the eleventh hour--to treat him thus! If he had taken herby the throat and wrung her neck, she would have considered him justifiedand herself but righteously punished.
But he did nothing of a violent nature. He only sat there looking at her,and though she could not bring herself to meet his look she knew that itheld no anger.
He did not speak, and she went on with a species of desperate pleading,because silence was so intolerable. "It wouldn't be right of me to--tomarry you and not tell you, would it? It wouldn't be fair. It would belike marrying you under false pretences. I only wish--oh, I do wish--thatI had known sooner, when you first asked me. I might have known. I oughtto have known! But--but--somehow--" she began to falter badly and finallyconcluded in a piteous whisper--"I didn't."
"How did you find out?" he said. His tone was still perfectly quiet; buthe spoke judicially, as one who meant to have an answer.
But Dinah had no answer for him. It was the very question to which therecould be no reply. Her fingers interlaced and strained against eachother. She stood mute.
"I think you can tell me that," Eustace said.
She made a small but vehement gesture of negation. "I can't!" she said."It's--it's--private."
"You mean you won't?" he questioned.
She nodded silently, too distressed for speech.
He got to his feet with finality. "That ends the case then," he said."The appeal is dismissed. You can give me no adequate reason forreleasing you. Therefore, I keep you to your engagement."
Dinah uttered a gasp. She had not expected this. For the first time shemet his look fully, met the blue, dominant eyes, the faint, supercilioussmile. And dismay struck through and through her as she realized that hehad made her captive again with scarcely a struggle.
"Oh, but you can't--you can't!" she said.
He raised his brows. "We shall see," he said. "Mean-time--" He paused,looking at her, and suddenly the old hot glitter flashed forth, dazzlingher, hypnotizing her; he uttered a low laugh and took her in his arms."Daphne, you will-o'-the-wisp, you witch, how dare you?"
She made no outcry or resistance, realizing in a single stunning secondthe mastery that would not be denied; only ere his lips reached her, shesank down in his hold, hiding her face and praying him brokenly,imploringly, to let her go.
"Oh, please--oh, please--if you love me--do be kind--do be generous! Ican't go on--indeed--indeed! Oh, Eustace,--Eustace--do forgive me--andlet me go!"
"I will not!" he said. "I will not!"
She heard the rising passion in his voice, and her heart died within her;she sank lower, till but for his upholding arms she would have beenkneeling at his feet. And then quite suddenly her strength went from her;she hung powerless, almost fainting in his grasp.
She scarcely knew what happened next, save that the fierceness went outof his hold like the passing of an evil dream. He lifted and held herwhile the darkness surged around.... And then presently she heard hisvoice, very low, amazingly tender, speaking into her ear. "Dinah! Dinah!What has come to you? Don't you know that I love you? Didn't I tell youso only last night?"
She leaned against him palpitating, unstrung, piteously distressed."That's what makes it--so dreadful," she whispered. "I wish I were dead!Oh, I do wish I were dead!"
"Nonsense!" he said. "Nonsense!" He put his hand upon her head, pressingit against his breast. "Little sweetheart, what has happened to you? Tellme what is the matter!"
That was the hardest to face of all, that he should subdue himself,restrain his passion to pour out to her that which was infinitely greaterthan passion; she made a little sound that seemed to come straight fromher heart.
"Oh, I can't tell you!" she sobbed into his shoulder. "I can't think howI ever made such a terrible mistake. But if only--oh, if only--you couldmarry Rose instead! It would be so very much better for everybody."
"Marry Rose!" he said. "What on earth made you think of that at thisstage?"
"I always thought you would--in Switzerland," she explained ratherincoherently. "I--never really thought--I could cut her out."
"Is that what you did it for?" An odd note sounded in Sir Eustace'svoice, as though some irony of circumstance had forced his sense ofhumour.
"Just at first," whispered Dinah. "Oh, don't be angry! Please don't beangry! You--you weren't in earnest either just at first."
He considered the matter in silence for a few moments. Thenhalf-quizzically, "I don't see that that is any reason
for throwing meover now," he said. "If you don't love me to-day, you will to-morrow."
She shook her head.
"Quite sure?" he said.
"Quite," she answered faintly.
His hand was still upon her head, and it remained there. He held herclosely pressed to him.
For a space again he was silent, his dark face bent over her, his lipsactually touching her hair. Of what was passing in his mind she had nonotion, and she dared not lift her head to look. She dreaded each momenta return of that tornado-like passion that had so often appalled her.But it did not come. His arms held her indeed, but without violence, andin his stillness there was no tension to denote its presence.
He spoke at length, almost whispering. "Dinah, who is the lucky fellow?Tell me!"
She started away from him. She almost cried out in her dismay. But hestopped her. He took her face between his hands with an insistence thatwould not be denied. He looked closely, searchingly, into her eyes.
"Is it Scott?" he said.
She did not answer him. She stood as one paralysed, and up over face andneck and all her trembling body, enwrapping her like a flame, there rosea scorching, agonizing blush.
He held her there before him and watched it, and she saw that his eyeswere piercingly bright, with the brightness of burnished steel. She couldnot turn her own away from them, though her whole soul shrank from thatstark scrutiny. In anguish of mind she faced him, helpless, unutterablyashamed, while that burning blush throbbed fiercely through every veinand gradually died away.
He let her go at last very slowly. "I--see," he said.
She put her hands up over her face with a childish, piteous gesture. Shefelt as if he had ruthlessly torn from her the one secret treasure thatshe cherished. She was free--she knew she was free. But at what a cost!
"So," Eustace said, "that's it, is it? We've got at the truth at last!"
She quivered at the words. Her whole being seemed to be shrivelled asthough it had passed through the fire. He had wrenched her secret fromher, and she had nothing more to hide.
Sir Eustace walked to the end of the room and back. He halted close toher, but he did not touch her. He spoke, briefly and sternly.
"How long has this been going on?"
She looked up at him, her face pathetically pinched and small. "It hasn'tbeen going on. I--only realized it to-day. He doesn't know. He never mustknow!" A sudden sharp note of anxiety sounded in her voice. "He nevermust know!" she reiterated with emphasis.
"He hasn't made love to you then?" Sir Eustace spoke in the same curttone; his mouth was merciless.
She started as if stung. "Oh no! Oh no! Of course he hasn't! He--hedoesn't care for me--like that. Why should he?"
Eustace's grim lips twitched a little. "Why indeed? Well, it's lucky forhim he hasn't. If he had, I'd have half killed him for it!"
There was concentrated savagery in his tone. His eyes shone with a firethat made her shrink. And then very suddenly he put his hand upon hershoulder.
"Do you mean to tell me that you want to throw me over solely because youimagine you care for a man who doesn't care for you?" he asked.
She looked up at him piteously, "Oh, please don't ask me any more!" shesaid.
"But I want to know," he said stubbornly. "Is that your only reason?"
With difficulty she answered him. "No."
"Then what more?" he demanded.
It was inevitable. She made a desperate effort to be brave. "I couldn'tbe happy with you. I am afraid of you. And--and--you are not kind to--toIsabel."
"Who says I am not kind to Isabel?" His hand pressed upon her ominously;his look was implacably stern.
But the effort to be brave had given her strength. She stiffened in hishold. "I know it," she said. "I have seen it. She is always miserablewhen you are there."
He frowned upon her heavily. "You don't understand. Isabel is veryhysterical. She needs a firm hand."
"You are more than firm," Dinah said. "You are--cruel."
Never in her wildest moments had she imagined herself making such anindictment. She marvelled at herself even as it left her lips. Butsomething seemed to have entered into her, taking away her fear. Not tilllong afterwards did she realize that it was her new-found womanhood thathad come upon her all unawares during that poignant interview.
She faced him without a tremor as she uttered the words, and he receivedthem 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, tome. You don't believe it, because it is your nature. But it is true allthe same. And I think cruelty is a most dreadful thing. It's a vice thatnot 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 ragedbehind his calm. And still she knew no fear, felt no faintest dread ofconsequence.
"All your love-making has been cruel," she said. "Only once--no, twicenow--have you been the least bit kind to me. It's no good talking. You'dnever understand. I've lain awake often in the night with the dread ofyou. But"--her voice shook slightly--"I didn't know what I wanted, soI kept on. Now that I do know--though I shall never have it--it's made adifference, and I can't go on. You don't want me any more now I've toldyou, 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 silenceor her speech had developed something that was strange and new. His voicewas quick and low, utterly devoid of its customary arrogance. "I want youmore than ever! Dinah--Dinah, I may have been a brute to you. You'reright. I often am a brute. But marry me--only marry me--and I swear toyou that I will be kind!"
His calm was gone. He leaned towards her urgently, his dark face aglowwith a light that was not passion. She had deemed him furious, andbehold, she had him at her feet! Her ogre was gone for ever. He hadcrumbled at a touch. She saw before her a man, a man who loved her, aman 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 mefree!"
"You are free as air," he said.
"Am I? Then don't--don't ask me to bind myself again! For I can't--Ican't. I want to go away. I want to be quiet." She broke down suddenly.The strain was past, the battle over. She had vanquished him, how shescarcely knew; but her own brief strength was tottering now. "Let me gohome!" she begged. "Tell Scott I've gone! Tell everyone there won't be awedding after all! Say I'm dreadfully sorry! It's my fault--all my fault!I ought to have known!" Her tears blinded her, silenced her. She turnedtowards the door.
"Won't you say good-bye to me?" Eustace said.
Her voice was low and very steady. The glow was gone. He was calm again,absolutely calm. With the failure of that one urgent appeal, he seemed tohave withdrawn his forces, accepting defeat.
She turned back gropingly. "Good-bye--good-bye--" shewhispered, "and--thank you!"
He put his arm around her, and bending kissed her forehead. "Don't cry,dear!" he said.
His manner was perfectly kind, supremely gentle. She hardly knew himthus. Again her heart smote her in overwhelming self-reproach. "Oh,Eustace, forgive me for hurting you so--forgive me--for all I've said!"
"For telling me the truth?" he said. "No, I don't forgive you for that."
She broke down utterly and sobbed aloud. "I wish--I wish I hadn't! Howcould I do it? I hate myself!"
"No--no," he said. "It's all right. You've done nothing wrong. Run home,child! Don't cry! Don't cry!"
His hand touched her hair under the soft cap, touched and lingered. Buthe did not hold her to him.
"Run home!" he said again.
"And--and--you won't--won't--tell--Scott?" she whispered through hertears.
"But I don't think even I am such a bounder as that!" he said gently. "Doyou?"
She lifted her face impulsively. She kissed him with quivering lips."N
o--no. I didn't mean it. Good-bye Oh, good-bye!"
He kissed her in return. "Good-bye!" he said.
And so they parted.