Writhe and strain as she might, she was bound to suffer both the
pain and the indignity to the uttermost limit; for she lacked the
strength to break free.
She did not sit down however. She remained standing by the little table.
"Mother," she said through her white lips, "what do you want me to do?"
She could scarcely keep her teeth from chattering, and Mrs. Bathurst
noted the fact with another grim smile.
"What am I going to make you do would be more to the purpose, my girl,
wouldn't it?" she said. "Sit down there, and you'll find out!"
Dinah leaned upon the little table to steady herself. "Tell me what it is
I am to do!" she said.
"Ah! That's better." A note of bitter humour sounded in Mrs. Bathurst's
voice. "Sit down!"
She thrust out a bony hand, and gripped her by the shoulder, forcing her
downwards.
Dinah dropped into the chair, and sat motionless.
"Take your pen!" Mrs. Bathurst commanded.
She hesitated; and instantly, with a violent movement, her mother
snatched it up and held it in front of her.
"Take it!"
Dinah took it with fingers so numb that they were almost powerless.
"Now," said Mrs. Bathurst, "I will tell you what you are going to do. You
are going to write to Sir Eustace at my dictation, and tell him that you
are very sorry, you have made a mistake, and beg him to forget it and
marry you to-morrow as arranged."
"Mother! No!" Dinah started as if at a blow; the pen dropped from her
fingers.
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