"Then of what?" he questioned. "Your mother? I will see her, and make that all right."

She started and lifted her face. "Oh no! Oh no! You must never dream of doing that!" she declared, with sudden fevered urgency. "I couldn't bear you to see her. You mustn't think of it, indeed--indeed! Why I would even--even sooner go back myself."

"Then I must write to her," he said, gently ceding the point. "It is not essential that I should see her. Possibly even, a letter would be preferable."

Dinah's face had flushed fiery red. She did not meet his eyes. "I don't see why you should have anything to do with her," she said. "You would never get her to consent."

"Then I propose that we act first," said Scott. "Isabel is leaving to-day. You can join her at Great Mallowes and go on together. I shall follow in a couple of days. There are several matters to be attended to first. But Isabel and Biddy will take care of you. Come, my dear, you won't dislike that so very badly!"

"Dislike it!" Dinah caught back another sob. "I should love it above all things if it were possible. But it isn't--it isn't."

"Why not?" he questioned. "Surely your father would not raise any objection?"

She shook her head. "No--no! He doesn't care what happens to me. I used to think he did; but he doesn't--he doesn't."

"Then what is the difficulty?" asked Scott.

She was silent, and he saw the hot colour spreading over her neck as she turned her face away.

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"Won't you tell me?" he urged gently. "Is there some particular reason why you want to stay?"

"Oh no! I'm not going to stay." Quickly she made answer. "I am never going back. I couldn't after--after--" She broke off in quivering distress.

"I think your mother will be sorry presently," he said. "People with violent tempers generally repent very deeply afterwards."

Dinah turned upon him suddenly and hotly. "She will never repent!" she declared. "She hates me. She has always hated me. And I hate her--hate her--hate her!"

The concentrated passion of her made her vibrate from head to foot. Her eyes glittered like emeralds. She was possessed by such a fury of hatred as made her scarcely recognizable.

Scott looked at her steadily for a moment or two. Then: "But it does you more harm than good to say so," he said. "And it doesn't answer my question, does it? Dinah, if you don't feel that you can do this thing for your own sake, won't you do it for Isabel's? She is needing you badly just now."




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