‘I mean that you owe nothing of this kind,’ he answered, rather confusedly.  His confidence was less marked; her look overcame his.

‘Not ten pounds?’

‘Well, you don’t.’  He added, ‘Whose is this money?’

‘It is my own; I have earned it.’

‘Does your father know you are paying it?’

He does not.  I was not likely to speak to him of what you told me.  There is the debt, Mr. Dagworthy; we have paid it, and now I will leave you.

He examined her.  Even yet he could not be sure that he understood.  In admitting her, he had taken it for granted that she could come with but one purpose.  It was but the confirmation of the certain hope in which he had lived through the night.  Was the girl a simpleton?  Had she got it into her head that repayment in this way discharged his hold upon her father?  It was possible; women are so ludicrously ignorant of affairs.  He smiled, though darkly.

‘Why have you brought this money?’ he asked.

She was already moving nearer to the door.  He put himself in her way.

‘What good do you imagine this is?’

‘None, perhaps.  I pay it because I wish to.’

’And—­is it your notion that this puts your father straight?  Do you think this is a way out of his difficulty?’

’I have not thought that.  But it was only to restore the money that I came.’

There was silence.

‘Have you forgotten,’ he asked, half wonderingly, half with quiet menace, ‘what I said to you yesterday?’

‘You see my answer,’ said Emily, pointing hastily to the table.  ’I owe you that, but I can give you nothing more.’  Her voice quivered, as she continued, ’What you said to me yesterday was said without thought, or only with evil thoughts.  Since then you have had hours of reflection.  It is not in your power—­it would be in the power of no man who is not utterly base and wicked—­to repeat such words this morning.  Mr. Dagworthy, I believe in the affection you have professed for me; feeling that, you are incapable of dastardly cruelty.  I will not believe your tongue against yourself.  In a moment of self-forgetfulness you spoke words which you will regret through your life, for they were inhuman, and were spoken to a defenceless girl.  After hearing them, I cannot beg your mercy for my father but you know that misfortune which strikes him falls also upon me.  You have done me the greatest wrong that man can do to woman; you owe me what reparation is in your power.’

She had not thought to speak thus.  Since daylight dawned her heart had felt too numb, too dead; barely to tell him that she had no answer to his words was the purpose with which she had set out.  The moment prompted her utterance, and words came without reflection.  It was a noble speech, and nobly delivered; the voice was uncertain at times, but it betrayed no weakness of resolve, no dread of what might follow.  The last sentences were spoken with a dignity which rebuked rather than supplicated.  Dagworthy’s head bowed as he listened.