A great and terrible bitterness that was like the hunger of a famished animal looked out of her eyes.  Dinah gazed at her aghast.  What new and horrible revelation was this?  She felt suddenly sick and giddy.

Her mother shook her again roughly, savagely.  “None of that!” she said.  “Don’t think I’ll put up with it, my fine lady, for I won’t!  What has love to do with such a chance as this?  Tell me that, you little fool!  Do you suppose that either you or I have ever been in a position to marry—­for love?”

Her face was darkly passionate.  Dinah felt as if she were in the clutches of a tigress.  “What—­what do you mean?” she faltered through her quivering lips.

“What do I mean?” Mrs. Bathurst broke into a sudden brutal laugh.  “Ha!  What do I mean?” she said.  “I’ll tell you, shall I?  Yes, I’ll tell you!  I’ll show you the shame that I’ve covered all these years.  I mean that I married because of you—­for no other reason.  I married because I’d been betrayed—­and left.  Now do you understand why it isn’t for you to pick and choose—­you who have been the plague-spot of my life, the thorn in my side ever since you first stirred there—­a perpetual reminder of what I would have given my very soul to forget?  Do you understand, I say?  Do you understand?  Or must I put it plainer still?  You—­the child of my shame—­to dare to set yourself up against me!”

She ended upon what was almost a note of loathing, and Dinah shuddered from head to foot.  It was to her as if she had been rolled in pitch.  She felt overwhelmed with the cruel degradation of it, the unspeakable shame.

Mrs. Bathurst watched her anguished distress with a species of bitter satisfaction.  “That’ll take the fight out of you, my girl,” she said.  “Or if it doesn’t, I’ve another sort of remedy yet to try.  Now, you start on that letter, do you hear?  It’ll be a bit shaky, but none the worse for that.  Write and tell him you’ve changed your mind!  Beg him humble-like to take you back!”

But Dinah only bowed her head upon her hands and sat crushed.

Mrs. Bathurst gave her a few seconds to recover her balance.  Then again mercilessly she shook her by the shoulder.

“Come, Dinah!  I’m not going to be defied.  Are you going to write that letter at once?  Or must I take stronger measures?”

And then a species of wild courage entered into Dinah.  She turned at last at bay.  “I will not write it!  I would sooner die!  If—­if this thing is true, it would be far easier to die!  I couldn’t marry any man now who had any pride of birth.”

She was terribly white, but she faced her tormentor unflinching, her eyes like stars.  And it came to Mrs. Bathurst with unpleasant force that she had taken a false step which it was impossible to retrace.  It was then that the evil spirit that had been goading her entered in and took full possession.

She gripped Dinah’s shoulder till she winced with pain.  “Mother, you—­you are hurting me!”