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

closely still. "I do not think I have very far to go," she said, speaking very softly. "My night has been so long that I think the dawn cannot be far off now. God knows how I am longing for it."

"Oh, darling, don't—don't!" whispered Dinah piteously.

"I won't, dearest." Very tenderly Isabel kissed her again. "I didn't mean to distress you. Only I want you to know that you are just all the world to me—the main-spring of what life there is left to me. I shall never forgive myself for leading you away on that terrible Sunday, and causing you all this suffering."

"Oh, but I should have been home again by now if that hadn't happened," said Dinah quickly. "See what I should have missed! I'd far, far rather be ill with you than well at home."

"Yours isn't a happy home, sweetheart," Isabel said gently.

"Not very," Dinah admitted. "But being away makes it seem much worse. I have been so spoilt with you."

Isabel smiled. "I only wish I could keep you always, dear child."

Dinah drew a sharp breath. "Oh, if you only could!" she said.

Isabel pressed her to her heart, and laid her down. "I must get you back to bed, dear," she said. "We have talked too long already."

Late that night Isabel went softly to the door in answer to a low knock, and found Scott on the threshold.

She lifted a warning finger. "She is asleep."

"That's right," he said quietly. "I only came to say good night to you.
Are you going to bed now?"

She looked at him with a faint smile in her shadowed eyes. "I daresay I shall go some time," she said; then seeing the concern in his eyes: "Don't worry about me, Stumpy dear. I don't sleep a great deal, you know; but I rest."

He took her arm and drew her gently outside the room. "I want you to take care of yourself now that she is safe," he said. "Will you try?"

The smile still lingered in her eyes. She bent her stately neck to kiss him. "Oh yes, dear; I shall be all right," she said. "It does me good to have the little one to think of."

"I know," he said. "But don't wear yourself out! Remember, you are not strong."

"Nothing I can do for her would be too much," she answered with quick feeling. "Think—think what she has done for me!"

"For us all," said Scott gently. "But all the same, dear, you can spare a little thought for yourself now." He hesitated momentarily, then: "I think Eustace would like to see more of you," he said, speaking with a touch of diffidence.

She made a sharp gesture of impatience. "Why did you send him to disturb the child's peace?"

"She wanted him," said Scott simply.

"Ah!" Isabel stood tense for a second. "And he?" she questioned.

"He was quite pleased to see her again," said Scott.

She grasped his arm suddenly. "Stumpy, don't let him break her heart!"

He met her look with steadfast eyes. "He shall not do that," he said, with inflexible resolution.

Her hold became a grip. "Can you prevent it? You know what he is"

"Oh yes, I know," very steadily Scott made answer. "But you needn't be afraid, Isabel. He shall not do that."

A measure of relief came into her drawn face. "Thank you, Stumpy," she said. "I was horribly afraid—when I saw him just now—and she, poor child, so innocently glad to have him!"

"You needn't be afraid," he reiterated. "Eustace is too much of a sportsman to amuse himself at the expense of an unsophisticated child like that."

Isabel suppressed a shiver. "I don't think he is so scrupulous as you imagine," she said. "We must watch, Stumpy; we must watch."

He patted her arm with his quiet smile. "And we mustn't let ourselves get over-anxious," he said. "Now go to bed, like a dear girl! You are looking absolutely worn out."

Her lips quivered as she smiled back. "At least you are getting better nights," she said.

"Yes, I sleep very well," he answered. "I want to know you are doing the same."

Her face shone as though reflecting the lights of a city seen from afar. "Oh yes, I sleep," she said. "And sometimes I dream that I have really found the peaks of Paradise. But before I reach the summit—I am awake."

He drew her to him, and kissed her. "It is better that you should wake, dear," he said.

She returned his kiss with tenderness, but her eyes were fixed and distant. "Some day the dream will come true, Stumpy," she said softly. "And I shall find him there where he has been waiting for me all these years."

"But not yet, Isabel," murmured Scott, and there was pleading in his voice.

She looked at him for a moment ere she turned to re-enter the room in which Dinah lay. "Not just yet," she answered softly. "Good night, dear! Good night!"

The strange light was still upon her face as she went, and Scott looked after her with a faint, wistful smile about his mouth. As he went to his own room, he passed his hand across his forehead with a gesture of unutterable weariness.

CHAPTER XXV THE TRUE GOLD

The actual turning-point in Dinah's illness seemed to date from that brief interview with Sir Eustace. They had drawn her back half against her will from the land of shadows, but from that day her will was set to recover. The old elasticity came back to her, and with every hour her strength increased. The joy of life was hers once more. She was like a flower opening to the sun.

Sir Eustace presented himself every evening for admittance and sat with her for a little while. Isabel was generally present, and their conversation was in consequence of a strictly commonplace order; but the keen blue eyes told Dinah more than the proud lips ever uttered. She came to watch for that look which she could not meet, and though at times it sent a wild dart of fear through her, yet it filled her also with a rapture indefinable but unspeakably precious. She felt sure that he had never turned that look on Rose or any other girl. It was kept exclusively for her, and its fiery intensity thrilled her soul. It was the sign of a secret understanding between them which she believed none other suspected.

It was a somewhat terrible joy, for the man's strength had startled her more than once, but in moments of dread she reassured herself with the memory of his reiterated declaration that the magic bond that existed between them was no bond at all in reality—only a game without consequences. She would not look forward to the time when that game should be over. She was not looking forward at all, so sublimely happy was she in the present. The period of convalescence which to most patients is the hardest of all to bear was to her a dream of delight.

A week after the departure of the de Vignes she was well enough to be moved into Isabel's sitting-room, and here on that first day both Sir Eustace and Scott joined them at tea.

The weather had cleared again, and Sir Eustace came in from an afternoon's ski-ing attired in the white sweater in which Dinah always loved to see him. She lay on her couch and watched him with shining eyes, telling herself that no prince had ever looked more royal.

It was Scott who waited upon her, but she was scarcely aware of his presence. Even Isabel seemed to have faded into the background. She could think only of Eustace lounging near her in careless magnificence, talking in his deep voice of the day's sport.

"There are several new people arrived," he said, "both ancient and modern. The place was getting empty, but it has filled up again. There is to be a dance to-night," his eyes sought Dinah's. "I am going down presently to see if any of the new-comers have any talents worth cultivating."

She met his look with a flash of daring. "I wish you luck," she said.

He made her a bow. "You are very generous. But I scarcely expect any. My star has not been in the ascendant for a long time."

Scott uttered a laugh that sounded faintly derisive. "You'll have to make the best of the second best for once, my dear chap," he said. "You can't always have your cake iced."

Eustace glanced at him momentarily. "I am not you, Stumpy," he said. "The philosophy of the second best is only for those who have never tasted the best."

There was in his tone a touch of malice that caught Dinah very oddly, like the flick of a lash intended for another. She awoke very suddenly to the realization of Scott sitting near Isabel with the light shining on his pale face and small, colourless beard. How insignificant he looked! And yet the narrow shoulders had an independent set about them as though they were not without a certain strength.

The smile still lingered about his lips as he made quiet rejoinder. "It sometimes needs a philosopher to tell what is the best."

Eustace gave an impatient shrug. "The philosopher is not always a wise man," he observed briefly.

"But seldom an utter fool," returned Scott.

The elder brother's face was contemptuous as he said, "A philosopher may recognize what is best, but it is seldom within his reach."

"And so, being a philosopher, he does without it." Scott spoke thoughtfully; he was gazing straight before him.

Isabel suddenly leaned forward. "He is not always the loser, Stumpy," she said.

He looked at her. "Certainly a man can't lose what he has never had," he said.

"Every man has his chance once," she insisted.

"And—if he's a philosopher—he doesn't take it," laughed Eustace. "Don't you know, my dear Isabel, that that is the very cream and essence of philosophy?"

She gave him a swift look that was an open challenge. "What do you know of philosophy and the greater things of life?" she said.

He looked momentarily surprised. Dinah saw the ready frown gather on his handsome face; but before he could speak Scott intervened.

"How on earth did we get onto this abstruse subject?" he said easily.
"Miss Bathurst will vote us all a party of bores, and with reason. What
were we talking about before? Iced cake, wasn't it? Are you a cook Miss
Bathurst?"

"I can make some kinds of cakes," Dinah said modestly, "but I like making pastry best. I often make sausage-rolls for Dad to take hunting."

"That sounds more amusing for him than for you," observed Eustace.

"Oh no, I love making them," she assured him. "And he always says he likes mine better than anyone's. But I'm not a particularly good cook really. Mother generally does that part, and I do all the rest."

"All?" said Isabel.

"Yes. You see, we can't afford to keep a servant," said Dinah. "And I groom Rupert—that's the hunter—too, when Billy isn't at home. I like doing that. He's such a beauty."

"Do you ever ride him?" asked Eustace.

She shook her head. "No. I'd love to, of course, but there's never any time. I can't spend as long as I like over grooming him because there are so many other things. But he generally looks very nice," she spoke with pride; "quite as nice as any of the de Vignes's horses."

"You must have a very busy time of it," said Scott.

"Yes." Dinah's bright face clouded a little. "I often wish I had more time for other things; but it's no good wishing. Anyway, I've had my time out here, and I shall never forget it."

"You must come out again with us," said Isabel.

Dinah beamed. "Oh, how I should love it!" she said. "But—" her face fell again—"I don't believe mother will ever spare me a second time."

"All right. I'll run away with you in the yacht," said Eustace. "Come for a trip in the summer!"

She looked at him with shining eyes. "It's not a bit of good thinking about it," she said. "But oh, how lovely it would be!"

He laughed, looking at her with that gleam in his eyes that she had come to know as exclusively her own. "Where there's a will, there's a way," he said. "If you have the will, you can leave the way to me."