"Snap your fingers in its face, and it won't bite you!" said Eustace.
"You will belong by that time."
Mr. Grey smiled a very kindly smile that had in it a touch of compassion.
He said nothing, but in a few minutes he rose to take his leave, and
then, with Dinah's hand held for a moment in his, he said in a low voice,
"I wish I might enlist your sympathy on behalf of one of my parishioners.
His wife is dying of cancer, and he is to be sent to gaol for poaching."
"Oh!" Dinah exclaimed in distress.
She looked quickly across at her fiancé, and saw that his brow was dark.
He said nothing whatever, and she went to him impulsively. "Eustace, must you send him to prison?"
He looked at her for a second, then turned, without responding, to the Vicar. "That was a very unnecessary move on your part, sir," he said icily. "I have told you my decision in the matter, and there it must rest. Justice is justice."
Dinah was looking at him very pleadingly; he laid his hand upon her arm, and she felt his fingers close with a strong, restraining pressure.
Mr. Grey turned to go. "I make no excuse, Sir Eustace," he said. "I am begging for mercy, not justice. My cause is urgent. If one weapon fails, I must employ another."
He went out with Scott, and Dinah was left alone with Sir Eustace.
He spoke at once, sternly and briefly, before she had time to open her lips. "Dinah, this is no matter for your interference. I forbid you to pursue it any further."