Ronnie met his eyes irresolutely for a moment, then looked away towards Hope.  She had become very still, but her face remained hidden.  There was something tense about her attitude.  After a moment Ronnie spoke, his voice very low.

“I suppose you had a reason for what you have just been doing?”

“Yes,” Baring said sternly, “I had a reason.  Do you mean me to understand that you didn’t know that fellow to be a blackguard?”

Ronnie made no answer.  He stood like a beaten dog.

“If you didn’t know it,” Baring continued, “I am sorry for your intelligence.  If you did, you deserve the same treatment as he has just received.”

Hope stirred at the words, stirred and moaned, as if she were in pain; and again momentarily Baring glanced at her.  But his face showed no softening.

“I mean what I say,” he said, turning inexorably to Ronnie.  “I told you long ago that that man was not fit to associate with your sister.  You must have known it for yourself; yet you continued to bring him to the house.  What I have just done was in her defence.  Mark that, for—­as you know—­I am not in the habit of acting hastily.  But there are some offences that only a horsewhip can punish.”  He set the boy free with a contemptuous gesture, and crossed the room to Hope.  “Now I have something to say to you,” he said.

She started and quivered, but she did not raise her head.  Very quietly he stooped and lifted her up.  He saw that she was too upset for the moment to control herself, and he put her into a chair and waited beside her.  After several seconds she slipped a trembling hand into his, and spoke.

“Monty,” she said, “I have something to say to you first.”

Her action surprised him.  It touched him also, but he did not show it.

“I am listening,” he said gravely.

She looked up at him and uttered a sharp sigh.  Then, with an effort, she rose and faced him.

“You are very angry with me,” she said.  “You are going to—­to—­give me up.”

His face hardened.  He looked back at her with a sternness that sent the blood to her heart.  He said nothing whatever.  She went on with difficulty.

“But before you do,” she said, “I want to tell you that—­that—­ever since you asked me to marry you I have loved you—­with my whole heart; and I have never—­in thought or deed—­been other than true to my love.  I can’t tell you any more than that.  It is no good to question me.  I may have done things of which you would strongly disapprove, which you would even condemn, but my heart has always been true to you—­always.”

She stopped.  Her lips were quivering painfully.  She saw that her words had not moved him to confidence in her, and it seemed as if the whole world had suddenly turned dark and empty and cold—­a place to wander in, but never to rest.

A long silence followed that supreme effort of hers.  Baring’s eyes—­blue, merciless as steel—­were fixed upon her in a gaze that pierced and hurt her.  Yet he forced her to endure it.  He held her in front of him ruthlessly, almost cruelly.