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

came over her at the sound of her mother's step when she was in disgrace.

He saw her distress, but he allowed several moments to elapse before he came to the rescue; Then lightly, "Pray don't let the matter disturb you!" he said. "Only—for your peace of mind—let me tell you that you really have nothing to fear. Out here we live in fairyland, and no one is in earnest. We just enjoy ourselves, and Mrs. Grundy simply doesn't exist. We are not ashamed of being frivolous, and we do whatever we like. And there are no consequences. Always remember that, Miss Bathurst! There are never any consequences in fairyland."

His eyes suddenly laughed at her, and Dinah was vastly reassured. Her dismay vanished, leaving a blithe sense of irresponsibility in its place.

"I shall remember that," she said, with her gay little nod. "I dreamt last night that we were in Olympus."

"We?" he said softly.

She nodded again, flushed and laughing, confident that she had received her cue. "And you—were Apollo."

She saw his eyes change magically, flashing into swift life, and dropped her own before the mastery that dawned there.

"And you," he questioned under his breath, "were Daphne?"

"Perhaps," she said enigmatically. After all, flirting was not such a difficult art, and since he had declared that there could be no consequences, she did not see why she should bury this new-found talent of hers.

"What a charming dream!" he commented lazily. "But you know what happened to Daphne when she ran away, don't you?"

She flung him a laughing challenge. "He didn't catch her anyway."

"True!" smiled Sir Eustace. "But have you never wondered whether it wouldn't have been more sport for her if he had? It wouldn't be very exciting, you know, to lead the life of a vegetable."

"It isn't!" declared Dinah, with abrupt sincerity.

"Oh, you know something about it, do you?" he said. "Then the modern
Daphne ought to have too much sense to run away."

She laughed with a touch of wistfulness. "I wonder how she felt about it afterwards."

"I wonder," he agreed, tipping the ash off his cigarette. "It didn't matter so much to Apollo, you see. He had plenty to choose from."

Dinah's wistfulness vanished in a swift breath of indignation. "Really!" she said.

He looked at her. "Yes, really," he told her, with deliberation. "And he didn't need to run after them either. But, possibly," his gaze softened again, "possibly that was what made him want Daphne the most. Elusiveness is quite a fascinating quality if it isn't carried too far. Still—" he smiled—"I expect he got over it in the end, you know; but in her case I am not quite so sure."

"I don't suppose he did get ever it," maintained Dinah with spirit. "All the rest must have seemed very cheap afterwards."

"Perhaps he was more at home with the cheap variety," he suggested carelessly.

His eyes had wandered to the buzzing throng behind her, and she saw a glint of criticism—or was it merely easy contempt?—dispel the smile with which he had regarded her. His mouth wore a faint but unmistakable sneer.

But in a moment his look returned to her, kindled upon her. "Are you for the ice carnival to-night?" he asked.

She drew a quick, eager breath. "Oh, I do want to come! But I don't know—yet—if I shall be allowed."

"Why ask?" he questioned.

She hesitated, then ingenuously she told him her difficulty. "I got into trouble last night for dancing so late with you. And—and—I may be sent to bed early to make up for it."

He frowned. "Do you mean to say you'd go?"

She coloured vividly. "I'm only nineteen, and I have to do as I'm told."

"Heavens above!" he said. "You belong to the generation before the last evidently. No girl ever does as she is told now-a-days. It isn't the thing."

"I do," whispered Dinah, in dire confusion. "At least—generally."

"And what happens if you don't?" he queried. "Do they whip you and put you to bed?"

She clenched her hands hard. "Don't!" she said. "You're only joking, I know. But—I hate it!"

His manner changed in a moment, became half-quizzical, half-caressing. "Poor little brown elf, what a shame! Well, come if you can! I shall look out for you. I may have something to show you."

"May you? Oh, what?" cried Dinah, all eagerness in a moment.

He laughed. There was a provoking hint of mystery in his manner. "Ah!
That lies in the future, miladi."

"But tell me!" she persisted.

"Will you come then?" he asked.

"Perhaps," she said. "If I can!"

"Ah! And perhaps not!" he said. "What then?"

Dinah's mouth grew suddenly firm. "I will come," she said.

"You will?" His keen eyes held hers with smiling compulsion.

"Yes, I will."

He made a gesture as if he would take her hand, but restrained himself, and paused to tip the ash once more off his cigarette.

"Now tell me!" commanded Dinah.

"I don't think I will," he said deliberately.

"But you must!" said Dinah.

His eyes sought hers again with that look which she found it impossible to meet. She bent over her cup.

"What will you show me?" she persisted. "Tell me!"

"I didn't say I would show you anything," he pointed out. "I said I might."

"Tell me what it was anyhow!" she said.

He leaned nearer to her, and suddenly it seemed to her that they were quite alone, very far removed from the rest of the world. "It may not be to-night," he murmured. "Or even to-morrow. But some day—in this land where there are no consequences—I will show you—when the fates are propitious, not before—some of the things that Daphne missed when she ran away."

He ceased to speak. Dinah's face was burning. She could not look at him. She felt as if a magic flame had wrapped her round. Her whole body was tingling, her heart wildly a-quiver. There was a rapture in that moment that was almost too intense, too poignant, to be borne.

He was the first to move. Calmly he leaned back, and resumed his cigarette. Through the aromatic smoke his voice came to her again.

"Are you angry?"

Her whole being stirred in response. She uttered a little quivering laugh that was near akin to tears.

"No—of course—no! But I—I think I ought to go and dress! It's getting late, isn't it? Thank you for giving me tea!" She rose, her movements quick and dainty as the flight of a robin. "Good-bye!" she murmured shyly.

He rose also with a sweeping bow. "A bientôt,—Daphne!" he said.

She gave him a single swift glance from under fluttering lashes, and turned away in silence.

She went up the stairs with the speed of a bird on the wing, but she could not outpace the wonder and the wild delight at her heart. As she entered her own room at length, she laughed, a breathless, rippling laugh. How amazing—and how gorgeous—was this new life!

CHAPTER XII THE WINE OF THE GODS

The rink was ablaze with fairy-lights under the starry sky. Rose de Vigne, exquisitely fair in ruby velvet and ermine furs paused on the verandah, looking pensively forth.

Very beautiful she looked standing there, and Captain Brent of the Sappers striding forth with his skates jingling in his hand stopped as one compelled.

"Are you waiting for someone, Miss de Vigne? Or may I escort you?"

She looked at him with a faint smile as if in pity for his disappointment. "Too late, I am afraid, Captain Brent. I have promised Sir Eustace to skate with him."

"Who?" Brent glanced towards the rink. "Why, he's down there already dancing about with your little cousin. That's her laugh. Don't you hear it?"

Dinah's laugh, clear and ringing, came to them on the still air. Rose's
slim figure stiffened very slightly, barely perceptibly, at the sound.
"Sir Eustace has forgotten his engagement," she said icily. "Yes, Captain
Brent, I will come with you."

"Good business!" he said heartily. "It's a glorious night. Somebody said there was a change coming; but I don't believe it. Maddening if a thaw comes before the luging competition. The run is just perfection now. I'm going up there presently. It's glorious by moonlight."

He chattered inconsequently on, happy in the fact that he had secured the prettiest girl in the hotel for his partner, and not in the least disturbed by any lack of response on her part. To skate with her hand in hand was the utmost height of his ambition just then, his brain not being of a particularly aspiring order.

Down on the rink all was gaiety and laughter. The lights shone ruby, emerald, and sapphire, upon the darting figures. The undernote of the rushing skates made magic music everywhere. The whole scene was fantastic—a glittering fairyland of colour and enchantment.

"Each evening seems more splendid than the last," declared Dinah.

"They always will if you spend them in my company," said Sir Eustace. "Do you know I could very soon teach you to skate as perfectly as you dance?"

"I believe you could teach me anything," she answered happily.

"Given a free hand I believe I could," he said. "But the gift is yours, not mine. You have the most wonderful knack of divining a mood. You adapt yourself instinctively. I never knew anyone respond so perfectly to the unspoken wish. How is it, I wonder?"

"I don't know," she answered shyly. "But I can't help understanding what you want."

"Does that mean that we are kindred spirits?" he asked, and suddenly the clasp of his hands was close and intimate.

"I expect it does," said Dinah; but she said it with a touch of uneasiness. The voice that had spoken within her the night before, warning her, urging her to be gone, was beginning to murmur again, bidding her to beware.

She turned from the subject with ready versatility, obedient to the danger-signal. "Oh, there is Rose! I am afraid I ran away from her after dinner. They went upstairs for coffee, but I was so dreadfully afraid of being stopped that I hung behind and escaped. I do hope the Colonel won't be in a wax again. But I don't see that there was anything wicked in it; for Lady Grace herself is coming to look on presently."

"I skated with Miss de Vigne nearly all the afternoon," observed Sir Eustace. "But she is a regular ice-maiden. I couldn't get any enthusiasm out of her. Tell me, is she like that all through? Or is it just a pose?"

"Oh, I don't know," Dinah said. "I've never got through the outer crust.
But then of course I'm far beneath her."

"How so?" asked Sir Eustace.

She laughed up at him with the happy confidence of a child. "Can't you see it for yourself? I—I am a mere guttersnipe compared to the de Vignes. They live in a great house with lots of servants and cars. They never do a thing for themselves. I don't suppose Rose could do her hair to save her life. While we—we live in a tumble-down, ramshackle old place, and do all the work ourselves. I've never been away from home in my life before. You see, we're poor, and Billy's schooling takes up a lot of money. I had to leave school when he first went as a boarder. And that is three years ago now. So I have forgotten all I ever learnt."

"Except dancing," he suggested.

"Oh, well, that's born in me. I couldn't very well forget that. My mother—" Dinah hesitated momentarily—"my mother was a dancer before she married."

"And she taught you?" asked Sir Eustace.

"No, no! She never taught me anything except useful things—like cooking and sewing and house-work. And I detest them all," said Dinah frankly. "I like sweeping the garden and digging the potatoes far better."

"She keeps you busy then," commented Sir Eustace, with semi-humorous interest.

"Busy isn't the word for it," declared Dinah. "I'm going from morning till night. We do the washing at home too. I get up at five and go to bed at nine. I make nearly all my own clothes too. That's why I haven't got any," she ended naively.

He laughed. "Not really! But what makes you work so hard as that? You're wasting all your best time. You'll never be so young again, you know."

"I know!" cried Dinah, and suddenly a wild gust of rebellion went through her. "It's hateful! I never knew how hateful till I