Sir Eustace made her a ceremonious bow and went out sweeping Dinah along with him. He closed the door with a decision there was no mistaking, and the next moment he had her in his arms.
"You poor little frightened mouse!" he said. "No wonder—no wonder you never knew before what life, real life, could be!"
She clung to him with all her strength, burying her face in the fur collar of his coat. "Oh, do marry me, quick—quick—quick!" she besought him, in a muffled whisper. "And take me away!"
He gathered her close in his arms, so close that she trembled again. Her nerves were all on edge that night.
"If they won't let me have you in a month from now," he said, in a voice that quivered slightly, "I swear I'll run away with you."
There was no echo of humour in his words though she tried to laugh at them, and ever he pressed her closer and closer to his heart, till panting she had to lift her face. And then he kissed her in his passionate compelling way, holding her shy lips with his own till he actually forced them to respond. She felt as if his love burned her, but, even so, she dared not shrink from it. There was so much at stake. Her mother's lack of love was infinitely harder to endure.
And so she bore the fierce flame of his passion unflinching even though her spirit clamoured wildly to be free, choosing rather to be consumed by it than left a beaten slave in her house of bondage.
His kisses waked in her much more of fear than rapture. That untamed desire of his frightened her to the very depths of her being, but yet it was infinitely preferable to the haughty indifference with which he regarded all the rest of the world. It meant that he would not let her go, and that in itself was comfort unspeakable to Dinah. He meant to have her at any price, and she was very badly in need of deliverance, even though she might have to pay for it, and pay heavily.
It was at this point, actually while his fiery kisses were scorching her lips, that a very strange thought crept all unawares into her consciousness. If she ever needed help, if she ever needed escape, she had a friend to whom she could turn—a staunch and capable friend who would never fail her. She was sure that Scott would find a way to ease the burden if it became too heavy. Her faith in him, his wisdom, his strength, was unbounded. And he helped everyone—the valiant servant Greatheart, protector of the helpless, sustainer of the vanquished.
When her lover was gone at last, she closed the door and leaned against it, feeling weak in every fibre.