His hand relaxed as suddenly as it had closed. He lay still with a face like marble.
Isabel sat motionless by his side for several seconds. She was gazing straight before her with eyes that seemed to read the future.
"How did you compel him to propose?" she asked presently.
He shrugged his narrow shoulders slightly. "I can do these things, Isabel, if I try. But I wish I'd killed myself now before I interfered. As I tell you, I was a fool--a fool."
He ceased to speak and sat in the silence of a great despair.
Isabel said nought to comfort him. Her tragic eyes still seemed to be gazing into the future.
After many minutes Scott turned his head and looked at her. "Isabel, I wish you would try to keep her with you as much as possible. Tell Eustace what you have just told me! There is certainly no time to lose if she is really to be married in three weeks from now!"
"I suppose he would never consent to put it off," Isabel said slowly.
"He certainly would not." Scott rose with a restless movement that said more than words. "He is on fire for her. Can't you see it? There is nothing to be done unless she herself wishes to be released. And I don't think that is very likely to happen."
"He would never give her up," Isabel said with conviction.
"If she desired it, he would," Scott's reply held an even more absolute finality.
Isabel looked at him for a moment; then: "Yes, but the poor little thing would never dare," she said. "Besides--besides--there is the glamour of it all."
"Yes, there is the glamour." Scott spoke with a kind of grim compassion. "The glamour may carry her through. If so, then--possibly--it may soften life for her afterwards. It may even turn into romance. Who knows? But--in any case--there will probably be--compensations."
"Ah!" Isabel said. A wonderful light shone for a moment in her eyes and died; she turned her face aside. "Compensations don't come to everyone, Stumpy," she said. "What if the glamour fades and they don't come to take its place?"
Scott was standing before the fire, his eyes fixed upon its red depths. His shoulders were still bent, as though they bore a burden well-nigh overwhelming. An odd little spasm went over his face at her words.
"Then--God help my Dinah!" he said almost under his breath.