He was still holding her face between his hands, and there was something of insistence, something that even bordered upon ruthlessness, in his hold. Though the tears were running down her face, he would not let her go.
"Will you tell me what you mean by that?" he said, his voice very low. "Or--must I ask Eustace?"
She started. There was that in his tone that made her wince inexplicably. "Oh no," she said, "no! I'll tell you myself--if--if you must know."
"I am afraid I must," he said, and for all their resolution, the words had a sound of deadly weariness. He let her go slowly as he uttered them. "Sit down!" he said gently. "And please don't tremble! There is nothing to make you afraid."
She dropped into the chair he indicated, and made a desperate effort to calm herself. He stood beside her with the absolute patience of one accustomed to long waiting.
After a few moments, she put up a quivering hand, seeking his. He took it instantly, and as his fingers closed firmly upon her own, she found courage.
"I didn't want you to know," she whispered. "But I--I see now--it's better that you should. There's no other way--of making you understand. It's just this--just this!" She swallowed hard, striving to control the piteous trembling of her voice. "I am--one of those people--that--that never ought to have been born. I don't belong--anywhere--except to--my mother who--who--who has no use for me,--hated me before ever I came into the world. You see, she--married because--because--another man--my real father--had played her false. Oh, do you wonder--do you wonder--" she bowed her forehead upon his hand with a rush of tears--"that--that when I knew--I--I felt as if--I couldn't--go on with life?"
Her weeping was piteous; it shook her from head to foot.
But--in the very midst of her distress--there came to her a wonder so great that it checked her tears at the height of their flow. For very suddenly it dawned upon her that Scott--Scott, her knight of the golden armour--was kneeling at her feet.
Half in wonder and half in awe, she lifted her head and looked at him. And in that moment he took her two hands and kissed them, tenderly, reverently, lingeringly.
"Was this what you and Eustace were talking about this afternoon?" he said.
She nodded. "I had to tell him--why--I couldn't marry you. He--he had been--so kind."
"But, my own Dinah," he said, and in his voice was a quiver half-quizzical yet strangely charged with emotion, "did you ever seriously imagine that I should allow a sordid little detail like that to come between us? Surely Eustace knew better than that!"