"I have not," he said.
"Quite sure?" persisted Bathurst, still amiably smiling. "It's my belief she's smitten with you, you know. I've thought so all along. Funny idea, isn't it? Never occurred to you of course?"
Scott made no reply, but his silence was more scathing than speech. It served to arouse all the rancour of which Bathurst's indolent nature was capable.
"No accounting for women's preference, is there?" he said. "You ought to feel vastly flattered, my good sir. It isn't many women would put you before that handsome brother of yours. How did you work it, eh? Come, you're caught! So you may as well own up."
Scott shrugged his shoulders abruptly, disdainfully, and turned from him. "If you choose to amuse yourself at your daughter's expense, I cannot prevent you," he said. "But there is not a grain of truth in your insinuation. I repudiate it absolutely."
"My dear fellow, that's a bit thick," laughed Bathurst; he had found the vulnerable spot, and he meant to make the most of it. "Do you actually expect me to believe that you won her away from your brother without knowing it? That's rather a tough proposition, too tough for my middle-aged digestion. You've been trifling with her young affections, but you are not man enough to own it."
"You are wrong, utterly wrong," Scott said. He restrained himself with difficulty; for still something was at work within him urging him to be temperate. "Dinah has never dreamed of falling in love with me. As you say, the bare idea is manifestly absurd."
"Then who is she in love with?" demanded Bathurst, with lazy insistence. "You're the only other man she knows, and there's certainly someone. No girl would throw up such a catch as your brother for the mere sentiment of the thing. It stands to reason there must be someone else. And there is no one but you. She doesn't know anyone else, I tell you. She has no opportunities. Her mother sees to that."
Scott was bending over the fire, his face to the flame. His indignation had died down. He was very still, as one deep in thought. Could it be the true word spoken in ill-timed jest which he had just heard? He wondered; he wondered.
A golden radiance was spreading forth to him from the heart of those leaping flames, like the coming of the dawnlight over the dark earth. He watched it spell-bound, utterly unmindful of the man behind him. If this thing were true! Ah, if this thing were true!