“Ye are changed,” he said somberly.
“I think I died and have arisen again,” said Delia. “I am so changed I do not know myself; if I had been not changed should I be here now? Will you give me those papers?”
“No,” he said. “No. Though I would do something for you, Delia, still not that.”
“Do you dare to use my name?” she cried.
“Did I not dare more than that?” he answered with a little smile. “Did I not dare to risk your lifetime hate to win you for that one hour—and you were won—though you curse me threefold.”
“Why did you do it?” she asked.
“I do not know.” He gazed upon her moodily. “It is the Dalrymple way to curse all they touch; yet I did not lie to you. What I said I meant—though now the moment is past.”
He broke off staring at her. “Why did you come here?” he said after a moment.
“Have I not told you? To obtain those papers—have you read them?”
“No,” he spoke abstractedly, his gaze as if his mind was upon her and not on what she said: “I have not broken the seals; they are for the King.”