Greatheart by Ethel May Dell (android based ebook reader TXT) 📖

after this taste of freedom. It might, as you say, be a good thing for her if the little chap did fall in love with her. Her mother can't expect much of a match for her."

"Oh, if that really happened, her mother would be charmed," said Lady Grace. "She is a queer, ill-balanced creature, and I don't believe she has ever had the smallest affection for her. She would be delighted to get her off her hands, I should say. But things mustn't move too quickly, or they may go in the wrong direction." Again her eyes sought her daughter's graceful outline. "You say Sir Eustace is rich?" she asked, after a moment.

"Extremely rich, I should say. He has his own yacht, a house in town as well as a large place in the country, and he will probably get a seat in Parliament at the next election. I'm not greatly taken with the man myself," declared Colonel de Vigne. "He is too overbearing. At the same time," again his eyes followed his wife's, "he would no doubt be a considerable catch."

"I don't mean Dinah to have Sir Eustace," said Lady Grace very decidedly. "It would be most unsuitable. Yes, what is it?" as a low knock came at the door. "Come in!"

It opened, and Dinah, looking flushed and rather uncertain, made her appearance.

"I wish you would have the consideration not to disturb us at this hour, my dear Dinah," said Lady Grace peevishly. "What is it you want now?"

"I am sorry," said Dinah meekly. "But I heard your voices, so I knew you weren't asleep. I just came in to say that Billy and I are going luging if you don't mind."

"What next?" said Lady Grace, still fretful. "Of course I don't mind so long as you don't get up to mischief."

"Dinah, come here!" said the Colonel suddenly.

Dinah, on the point of beating a swift retreat, stood still with obvious reluctance.

"Come here!" he repeated.

She went to him hesitatingly.

He reached up a hand and grasped her by the arm. "Were you eavesdropping just now?" he demanded.

Dinah started as if stung. "I—I—of course I wasn't!" she declared, with vehemence. "How can you suggest such a thing?"

"Quite sure?" said the Colonel, still holding her.

She wrenched herself from him in a sudden fury. "Colonel de Vigne, you—you insult me! I am not the sort that listens outside closed doors. How dare you? How dare you?"

She stamped her foot with the words, gazing down at him with blazing eyes.

The Colonel stiffened slightly, but he kept his temper. "If I have done you an injustice, I apologize," he said. "You may go."

And Dinah went like a whirlwind, banging the door behind her.

"Well, really!" protested Lady Grace in genuine displeasure.

Her husband smiled somewhat grimly. "A vixen's daughter, my dear! What can you expect?"

"She behaves like a fishwife's daughter," said Lady Grace. "And if she wasn't actually eavesdropping I am convinced she heard what I said."

"So am I," said the Colonel drily. "I was about to tax her with it. Hence her masterly retreat. But she was not deliberately eavesdropping or she would not have given herself away so openly. I quite agree with you, my dear. A match between her and Sir Eustace would not be suitable. And I also think Sir Eustace would be the first to see it. Anyhow, I shall take an early opportunity of letting him know that her birth is by no means a high one, and that her presence here is simply due to our kindness. At the same time, should the rather ludicrous little younger brother take it into his head to follow her up, so far as family goes he is of course too good for her, but I am sorry for the child and I shall put no obstacle in the way."

"All the same she shall not go to tea there unless Rose is invited too," said Lady Grace firmly.

"There," said the Colonel pompously, "I think that you are right."

Lady Grace simpered a little, and opened her novel. "It really wouldn't surprise me to find that she is a born fortune-hunter," she said. "I am certain the mother is avaricious."

"The mother," said Colonel de Vigne with the deliberation of one arrived at an unalterable decision, "is the most disagreeable, vulgar, and wholly objectionable person that I have ever met."

"Oh, quite," said Lady Grace. "If she were in our set, she would be altogether intolerable. But—thank heaven—she is not! Now, dear, if you don't mind, I am going to read myself to sleep. I have promised Rose to go to the ice carnival to-night, and I need a little relaxation first."

"I suppose Dinah is going?" said the Colonel.

"Oh, yes. But she is nothing of a skater." Lady Grace suddenly broke into a little laugh. "I wonder if the redoubtable Mrs. Bathurst does really beat her when she is naughty. It would be excellent treatment for her, you know."

"I haven't a doubt of it," said the Colonel. "She is absolutely under her mother's control. That great raw-boned woman would have a heavy hand too, I'll be bound."

"Oh, there is no doubt Dinah stands very much in awe of her. I never knew she had any will of her own till she came here. I always took her for the meekest little creature imaginable."

"There is a good deal more in Miss Dinah than jumps to the eye," said the Colonel. "In fact, if you ask me, I should say she is something of a dark horse. She is just beginning to feel her feet and she'll surprise us all one of these days by turning into a runaway colt."

"Not, I do hope, while she is in my charge," said Lady Grace.

"We will hope not," agreed the Colonel. "But all the same, I rather think that her mother will find her considerably less tame and tractable when she sees her again than she has ever been before. Liberty, you know, is a dangerous joy for the young."

"Then we must be more strict with her ourselves," said Lady Grace.

CHAPTER X THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE

Dinah ran swiftly down the corridor to her own room.

As a matter of fact, she had intruded upon the Colonel and Lady Grace in the secret hope of finding a propitious moment for once again pressing her request to be allowed to accept Scott's invitation to tea. Her failure to do so added fuel to the flame, arousing in her an almost irresistible impulse to rebel openly.

The fear of consequences alone restrained her, for to be escorted home in disgrace after only a week in this Alpine paradise was more than she could face. All her life the dread of her mother's wrath had overhung Dinah like a cloud, sometimes near, sometimes distant, but always present. She had been brought up to fear her from her cradle. All through her childhood her punishments had been bitterly severe. She winced still at the bare thought of them; and she was as fully convinced as was Lady Grace that her mother had never really loved her. To come under the ban of her displeasure meant days of harsh treatment, nor, now that her childhood was over, had the discipline been relaxed. She never attempted to rebel openly. Her fear of her mother had become an integral part of herself. Her spirit shrank before her fits of violence. But for her father and Billy she sometimes thought that home would be an impossible place.

But her affection for her father was of a very intense order. Lazy, self-indulgent, supremely easy-going, yet possessed of a fascination that had held her from babyhood, such was Guy Bathurst. Despised at least outwardly by his wife and adored by his daughter, he went his indifferent way, enjoying life as he found it and quite impervious to snubs.

"I never interfere with your mother," was a very frequent sentence on his lips, and by that axiom he ruled his life, looking negligently on while Dinah was bent without mercy to the wheel of tyranny.

He was fond of Dinah,—her devotion to him made that inevitable—but he never obtruded his fondness to the point of interference on her behalf; for both of them were secretly aware that the harshness meted out to her had much of its being in a deep, unreasoning jealousy of that very selfish fondness. They kept their affection as it were for strictly private consumption, and it was that alone that made life at home tolerable to Dinah.

For upon one point her father was insistent. He would not part with her unless she married. He did not object to her working at home for his comfort, but the idea of her working elsewhere and making her living was one which he refused to consider. With rare self-assertion, he would not hear of it, and when he really asserted himself, which was seldom, his wife was wont to yield, albeit ungraciously enough, to his behest.

Besides Dinah was undoubtedly useful at home, and would certainly grow out of hand if she left her.

Not very willingly had she agreed to let her go upon this Alpine jaunt with the de Vignes, but Billy had been so keen, and the invitation would scarcely have been extended to him alone.

The whole idea had originated between the heads of the two families, riding home together after a day's hunting. Dinah had chanced to come into the conversation, and the Colonel, comparing her with that of his own daughter and being stirred to pity, had suggested that the two children might like to join them on their forthcoming expedition. Bathurst had at once accepted the tentative proposal, and had blurted forth the whole matter to his assembled family on his return with the result that Billy's instant and eager delight had made it virtually impossible for his mother to oppose the suggestion.

Dinah had been delighted too, almost deliriously so; but she had kept her pleasure to herself, not daring to show it in her mother's presence till the actual arrival of the last day. Then indeed she had lost her head, had sung and danced and made merry, till some trifling accident had provoked her mother's untempered wrath and a sound boxing of ears had quite sobered her enthusiasm. She had fared forth finally upon the adventure with tearful eyes and drooping heart, her mother's frigid kiss of farewell hurting her more poignantly than her drastic punishment of an hour before. For Dinah was intensely sensitive, keenly susceptible to rebuke and coldness, and her warm heart shrank from unkindness with a shrinking that was actual pain.

She knew that the little social world of Perrythorpe looked down upon her mother though not actually refusing to associate with her. Bathurst had married a circus-girl in his green Oxford days; so the story went,—a hard, handsome woman older than himself, and fiercely, intensely ambitious. Lack of funds had prevented her climbing very high, and bitterly she resented her failure. He had never done a day's work in his life, but, unlike his wife, he had plenty of friends. He was well-bred, a good rider, a straight shot, and an entertaining guest. He knew everyone within a radius of twenty miles, and was upon terms of easy intimacy with the de Vignes and many others who received him with pleasure, but very seldom went out of their way to encounter his wife.

Dinah shrewdly suspected that this fact accounted for much of the bitterness of her mother's outlook. Her ambition had apparently died of starvation long since, but her resentment remained. Her hand was against practically all the world, including her daughter, whose fairy-like daintiness and piquancy were so obvious a contrast to the somewhat coarse and flashy beauty that had once been hers. For all that Dinah inherited from her mother was her gipsy darkness. Mrs. Bathurst was not flashy now, and any attempt at personal adornment on Dinah's part was always very sternly repressed. She had met and writhed under the eye of scornful criticism too often, and she distrusted her own taste. She was determined that Dinah should never be subjected to the same humiliation.

She humiliated her often enough herself. It was the only means she knew of asserting her authority; for she had no intention of ever being the object of her daughter's contempt. She was harsh to the point of brutality, so that the girl's heart was wont to quicken apprehensively whenever she heard her step. She scolded, she punished, she coerced. But from an outsider, the bare thought of