She heard the rising passion in his voice, and her heart died within her; she sank lower, till but for his upholding arms she would have been kneeling at his feet. And then quite suddenly her strength went from her; she hung powerless, almost fainting in his grasp. She scarcely knew what happened next, save that the fierceness went out of his hold like the passing of an evil dream. He lifted and held her while the darkness surged around.... And then presently she heard his voice, very low, amazingly tender, speaking into her ear. "Dinah! Dinah! What has come to you? Don't you know that I love you? Didn't I tell you so only last night?" She leaned against him palpitating, unstrung, piteously distressed. "That's what makes it--so dreadful," she whispered. "I wish I were dead! Oh, I do wish I were dead!" "Nonsense!" he said. "Nonsense!" He put his hand upon her head, pressing it against his breast. "Little sweetheart, what has happened to you? Tell me what is the matter!" That was the hardest to face of all, that he should subdue himself, restrain his passion to pour out to her that which was infinitely greater than passion; she made a little sound that seemed to come straight from her heart. "Oh, I can't tell you!" she sobbed into his shoulder. "I can't think how I ever made such a terrible mistake. But if only--oh, if only--you could marry Rose instead! It would be so very much better for everybody." "Marry Rose!" he said. "What on earth made you think of that at this stage?" "I always thought you would--in Switzerland," she explained rather incoherently. "I--never really thought--I could cut her out." "Is that what you did it for?" An odd note sounded in Sir Eustace's voice, as though some irony of circumstance had forced his sense of humour. "Just at first," whispered Dinah. "Oh, don't be angry! Please don't be angry! You--you weren't in earnest either just at first." He considered the matter in silence for a few moments. Then half-quizzically, "I don't see that that is any reason for throwing me over now," he said. "If you don't love me to-day, you will to-morrow." She shook her head. "Quite sure?" he said. "Quite," she answered faintly. His hand was still upon her head, and it remained there. He held her closely pressed to him. For a space again he was silent, his dark face bent over her, his lips actually touching her hair. Of what was passing in his mind she had no notion, and she dared not lift her head to look. She dreaded each moment a return of that tornado-like passion that had so often appalled her. But it did not come. His arms held her indeed, but without violence, and in his stillness there was no tension to denote its presence. He spoke at length, almost whispering. "Dinah, who is the lucky fellow? Tell me!"