'Won't you try and love me a little, Dulcie?' said he, attempting his most persuasive tone.
'What do you mean, Shafto?' demanded the girl in great anger and perplexity; 'even if I would take you, which I would rather die than do, with all your wealth and prospective title, you could not marry me and Finella too!'
'Who speaks of marriage?' growled Shafto, under his breath, while a malicious smile glittered in his cold eyes, as he added aloud, 'You know which I wish to marry.'
'Then it cannot be me, nor shall it be Finella either, for the matter of that.'
'Does she act under your influence?'
'Do not think of it—she is under a more potent influence than I possess,' replied Dulcie, who, bewildered by his manner and remarks, was turning away, when he again confronted her, and the girl glanced uneasily at the windows, where, although she knew it not, the eyes of those she dreaded most were observing them both.
To marry Dulcie, even if she would have him, certainly did not suit 'the book' of Shafto; but, as he admired her attractive person, and hated Florian with unreasoning rancour, as some men do who have wronged others, he would gladly have lured her into a liaison with himself. He knew, however, her pride and purity too well, but he was not without the hope of blunting them, and eventually bending her to his will, under the threat or pressure of getting her expelled from Craigengowan, and thrown penniless, friendless, and with, perhaps, a tainted name, upon a cold, bitter, and censorious world.
'I know you better than to believe that you love me any more than I do you,' said Dulcie, with ill-concealed scorn; 'love is not in your nature, even for the brilliant Finella. You love her money—not herself.'
Dissembling his rage, he said in a suppliant tone:
'Why are you so cold and repellant to me, Dulcie?'