“I do deny it,” said Dinah at last, as she drew herself up, a true woman now, her honour at stake, and all listening for her refutation of her pursuer’s words.
“There, what’s the good of lying, little one,” cried Sturgess, with a mocking laugh. “It’s all nature, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of in a strong man’s love.”
“I do deny it,” said Dinah again, more firmly now. “Father, dear—Clive Reed—this man lies. It is not true.”
“What!” cried Sturgess. “There, what’s the good of hiding it all, pussy? I’m an honest man, and I love you. I’ll marry you to-morrow if you like.”
“Must I speak again?” said Dinah proudly, as she looked round, letting her eyes rest last on Clive’s deadly white face; and then she uttered a gasp, for she saw his cheeks flush, and his eyes brighten, as they met hers, for she knew that she was believed. “It is an insult, father, and a lie.”
“What!” cried Sturgess, as the Major caught her to his breast; “didn’t you meet me that afternoon yonder, and go with me down the mine gap? Before there was any one there but me, gentlemen all.”
“Yes—wretch!” cried Dinah fiercely, “coward! You did pursue me down there; I, a poor defenceless girl—you, a strong, savage man. I must speak now, father, Clive; God, who is my judge, hear me too. Faint and exhausted, he seized me at last, and I was at his mercy, till my poor old faithful Rollo came and set me free.”
“Yah, nonsense!” cried Sturgess triumphantly. “Perhaps you will say I did not come to your window night after night. What about that time when your father had gone up to town?”
“The wound upon your shoulder is my answer, my witness to the truth. Father, my only protector lay helpless in a drugged sleep. Poor Rollo was poisoned by this miscreant’s hand. I was alone, and at his mercy, till I fired!”
“What, this?” cried Sturgess mockingly; “this was a fall.”