of August. Every day of that absence has been an added insult to me.
Even now you would not have been here if I had not written you a
letter you dare not neglect--sent a command you dare not disobey. You
are here to-night because you dare not stay away."

Some of the bold blood of the stern old Saxon race from which he
sprung is in his veins still. He looks at her full, still smiling.

"Dare not!" he repeats. "You use strong language, Inez. But then you
have an excitable sort of nature, and were ever inclined to hyperbole;
and it is a lady's privilege to talk."

"And a man's to act. But I begin to think Sir Victor Catheron is
something less than a man. The Catheron blood has bred many an outlaw,
many bitter, bad men, but to-day I begin to think it has bred
something infinitely worse--a traitor and a coward!"

He half springs up, his eyes flashing, then falls back, looks at the
fire again, and laughs.

"Meaning me?"

"Meaning you."

"Strong language once more--you assert your prerogative royally, my
handsome cousin. From whom did you inherit that two-edged tongue of
yours, Inez, I wonder? Your Castilian mother, surely; the women of our
house were never shrews. And even _you_, my dear, may go a little
too far. Will you drop vituperation and explain? How have I been
traitor and coward? It is well we should understand each other fully."