He said no more. Isabel's breath came in short sobbing gasps. She resisted him no longer. Under the steady pressure of his hands, her body yielded. She seemed to wilt under the compulsion of his look. Slowly, tremblingly, she crumpled in his hold, sinking downwards upon the bed. He bent over her, laying her back, taking the bedclothes from Biddy's shaking hands and drawing them over her. Then over his shoulder briefly he addressed the old woman. "Turn out the light, and go!" Biddy stood and gibbered. There was that in her mistress's numb acquiescence that terrified her. "Sure, you'll kill her, Sir Eustace!" she gasped. He made a compelling gesture. "You had better do as I say. If I want your help--or advice--I'll let you know. Do as I say! Do you hear me, Biddy?" His voice fell suddenly and ominously to a note so deep that Biddy drew back still further affrighted and began to whimper. Sir Eustace turned back to his sister, lying motionless on the pillow. "Tell her to go, Isabel! I am going to stay with you myself. You don't want her, do you?" "No," said Isabel. "I want Scott." "You can't have Scott to-night." There was absolute decision in his voice. "It is essential that he should get a rest. He looked ready to drop to-night." "Ah! You think me selfish!" she said, catching her breath. He sat down by her side. "No," he answered quietly. "But I think you have not the least idea how much he spends himself upon you. If you had, you would be shocked." She moved restlessly. "You don't understand," she said. "You never understand. Eustace, I wish you would go away." "I will go in half an hour," he made calm rejoinder, "if you have not moved during that time." "You know that is impossible;" she said. "Very well then. I shall remain." His jaw set itself in a fashion that brought it into heavy prominence. "You will stay all night?" she questioned quickly. "If necessary," he answered. Biddy had turned the lamp very low. The faint radiance shone upon him as he sat imparting a certain mysterious force to his dominant outline. He looked as immovable as an image carved in stone. A great shiver went through Isabel. "You want to see me suffer," she said. "You are wrong," he returned inflexibly. "But I would sooner see you suffer than give yourself up to a habit which is destroying you by inches. It is no kindness on Scott's part to let you do it." "Don't talk of Scott!" she said quickly. "No one--no one--will ever know what he is to me--how he has helped me--while you--you have only looked on!" Her voice quivered. She flung out a restless arm. Instantly, yet without haste, he took and held her hand. His fingers pressed the fevered wrist. He spoke after a moment while he quelled her instinctive effort to free herself. "I am not merely looking on to-night. I am here to help you--if you will accept my help." "You are here to torture me!" she flung back fiercely. "You are here to force me down into hell, and lock the gates upon me!"