The revulsion of feeling, the unconscious admission of her words, a fierce flame of insane jealousy, suddenly kindled by the glad note in her voice, broke down the last shred of Rockhurst’s self-control. His passion escaped him, tigerish:—
“By the Lord God of Heaven or the Devil Lord of Hell, thou shalt not go to him!”
The young voice was uplifted again without.
“Knock once more, Robin; I hear stirring within.”
And a lusty shout succeeded:—
“Ho, Chitterley, ’tis I, Robin, with Master Harry Rockhurst!”
Rockhurst caught Diana in his arms.
“Mine, Diana, mine, and none shall come between us!”
He held her for a second against his breast, and she heard the great hammering of his heart; then she found herself thrust within a darkened room, heard the door close upon her, the shooting of a bolt. A prisoner—and darkness all about her, a strange suffocating darkness, thick with the fumes of a burnt-out lamp.