She did not add that she had in her letter told the whole story of the false position in which Finella had been placed, lest the latter's pride might revolt at such interference in her affairs, however well and kindly meant; and lest the letter—if it proved disappointing, by her lover remaining jealous, suspicious, obdurate, or contemptuous, if Florian ventured to speak on the subject, which she scarcely hoped—should prove a useless humiliation to Finella, who longed eagerly as herself for the reply.
But Dulcie prayed in her simple heart that good might come of it before the evil which she so nervously dreaded fell upon herself; for Shafto had made such humble apologies for his conduct to her on the day he interrupted her when feeding the swans, that, though she gave him her hand in token, not of forgiveness but of truce, she feared he was concocting fresh mischief; for soon after, encouraged thereby, he began his old persecution, but carefully and in secret again.
Finding that his chances with Finella were now apparently nil, even though all seemed at an end between her and Vivian Hammersley, Shafto, by force of old habit, perhaps, turned his attention to Dulcie, who, in her humble and dependent capacity, had a difficult card to play, while feeling exasperated and degraded by the passion he expressed for her on every available opportunity. Not that he would, she suspected, have married a poor girl like her, as one with money, no matter who, was the wisest match for him, lest the discovery of who he was came to pass, though that he deemed impossible now.
Shafto had learned and imitated much among the new and aristocratic folks in whose circle he found himself cast; and thus it was that he dared to make secret love, and to torment the helpless Dulcie with words that spoke of—
'Riches and love and pleasure,
And all but the name of wife.'
Had he done that, she would have treated him quite as coldly and scornfully; but she could do no more than she did. Yet he was fast making her life at Craigengowan a torture, and she feared him almost more than his so-called grandmother, who was only a proud and selfish patrician, while he—ah, she knew too well what he was capable of; but Dulcie had something more to learn yet.
One day, after having imbibed more wine, or eau-de-vie, than was good for him in Mr. Grapeston's pantry, as he sometimes did, he addressed the girl in a way there was no misunderstanding. She trembled and grew pale.
'Well, one thing I promise you if you try to please me,' said he—'to please me, do you understand?—while you remain under this roof, which I hope, darling, will not be long now—I shall trouble you no more.'
'To please you, Shafto!' stammered the girl; 'what do you mean?'
'I'll tell you that by-and-by, my pretty Dulcie, when the time comes.'