“Ah, then I may hope?” he cried.
“For what, sir?—an increase in my feeling of contempt? Your brother spared you, but I formed my own estimate of your nature, and it is true.”
“I—I don’t understand you,” he whispered, “only that your words give me intense pain.”
“I know, too, my father’s estimate of your character. Shall I tell you what he said?”
“If you will. It is joy to hear you speak,” he cried, as he tried to catch her hand again.
“He said, sir, that you were a scoundrel.”
“Of course,” cried Jessop, with a bitter laugh, “from my brother’s slanders.”
“Did your brother slander you when he told me that you married his betrothed?” cried Dinah indignantly, her eyes speaking her disgust. “Should I slander you, sir, if I told you that your words to me—words from a married man, to one whom you know to be his promised wife, are an insult? Have the goodness to go, sir, before my father returns, or I will not be answerable for the consequences. Ah!”
She rushed past Jessop, forcing him on one side, for the Major, warned by Robson, had hurried back, and was coming up the path with his stick quivering in his grasp.
“Don’t—don’t, father,” she panted in her excitement, “for my sake. I have said enough.”