The pattering of the rain mingled with the sound of Dinah’s anguished sobbing; there seemed to be no other sound in all the world.

He moved at last, and into his eyes there came a very human look, dispelling all hardness.  He bent to her again, his hand upon her shoulder.  “My child,” he said gently, “don’t be so distressed!  It isn’t too late—­even now.”

He felt her respond to his touch, but she could not lift her head.  “I can never face him,” she sobbed hopelessly.  “I shall never, never dare!”

“You must face him,” Scott said quietly but very firmly.  “You owe it to him.  Do you consider that you would be acting fairly by him if you married him solely for the reasons you have just given to me?”

She shrank at his words, trembling all over like a frightened child.  But his hand was still upon her, restraining panic.

“He will be so angry—­so furious,” she faltered.

“I will help you,” Scott said steadily.

“Ah!” she caught at the promise with an eagerness that was piteous.  “You won’t leave me?  You won’t let me be alone with him?  He can make me do anything—­anything—­when I am alone with him.  Oh, he is terrible enough—­even when he is not angry.  He told me once that—­that—­if I were to slip out of his reach, he would follow—­and kill me!”

The brightness returned to Scott’s eyes; they shone with an almost steely gleam.  “You needn’t be afraid of that,” he said quietly.  “Now tell me, Dinah, for I want to know; how long have you known that you didn’t want to marry him?”

But Dinah shrank at the question, as though he had probed a wound.  “Oh, I can’t tell you that!  As long as I have realized that I was bound to him—­I have been afraid!  And now—­now that it has come so close—­” She broke off.  “Oh, but I can’t draw back now,” she said hopelessly.  “Think—­only think—­what it will mean!”

Scott was silent for a few seconds, then:  “If it would be easier for you to go on,” he said slowly, “perhaps—­in the end—­it may be better for you; because he honestly loves you, and I think his love may make a difference—­in the end.  Possibly you are nearer to loving him even now than you imagine.  If it is the dread of hurting him—­not angering him—­that holds you back, then I do not think you would be doing wrong to marry him.  If you are just scared by the thought of to-morrow and possibly the day after—­”

“Oh, but it isn’t that!  It isn’t that!” Dinah cried the words out passionately like a prisoner who sees the door of his cell closing finally upon him.  “It’s because I’m not his!  I don’t belong to him!  I don’t want to belong to him!  The very thought makes me feel—­almost—­sick!”

“Then there is someone else,” Scott said, with grave conviction.

“Ah!” It was not so much a word as the sharp intake of breath that follows the last and keenest thrust of the probe that has reached the object of its search.  Dinah suddenly became rigid and yet vibrant as stretched wire.  Her silence was the silence of the victim who dreads so unspeakably the suffering to come as to be scarcely aware of present anguish.