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

afraid?"

"Oh, quite sure of that," said Scott.

Her eyes expressed open admiration. "I can't think how you manage not to be," she said.

He smiled with a touch of sadness. "Perhaps I am not so weak as I look," he said.

"You—weak!" said Dinah. "Why, you are the strongest man I ever met."

Scott smothered a sudden sigh. "Which only proves how very little you know about me," he said.

But Dinah shook her head, wholly unconvinced. Here at least she was absolutely sure of her ground.

"'Mr. Greatheart was a strong man,'" she quoted, "'and he was not afraid of a Lion.'"

"There are sometimes worse things than lions in the path," said Scott gravely.

CHAPTER VIII THE VICTORY

The return of Sir Eustace, marshalling the Vicar before him, put an end to further confidences.

Dinah rose nervously to receive the new-comer—a tall, thin man, elderly, with a grave, intellectual face and courteous manner, who looked at her with a gleam of surprise as he took her shyly proffered hand.

"It is a great privilege to meet you," he said then, and Dinah perceived at once that he had prepared that remark for someone much more imposing than herself, and had not time to readjust it.

She thanked him, and he sat down at Scott's invitation and fell into a troubled silence.

Sir Eustace was looking decidedly formidable, and it was not difficult to see that he had just given an unqualified refusal to his visitor's earnest request.

It was Scott as usual who came to the rescue, breaking through the Vicar's abstraction to ask for details concerning certain additions that were being made to the Cottage Hospital. He drew Dinah also into the conversation, taking it for granted that she would be interested; and presently Mr. Grey brightened somewhat, launching into what was evidently a favourite topic.

"We are hoping," he said, "that the new wing will be completed by the end of June, and it is expected that the Parish Council will request Lady Studley to be good enough to declare it open."

He looked at Dinah with the words, and she realized their significance with a sharp shock. "Oh, do you mean me?" she said. "I don't think I could."

"It wouldn't be a very difficult business," said Scott reassuringly.

"Oh, I couldn't!" she said. "Why—why, there would be crowds of people, wouldn't there?"

"I hope to get a few of the County," said Mr. Grey, "to support you."

"That makes it worse," said Dinah.

Scott laughed. "Eustace and I will come too and take care of you. You see, the Lady of the Manor has to do these tiresome things."

"Oh! I'll come if you want me," said Dinah. "But I've never done anything like that before and I can't think what the County will say. You see, I don't belong."

"Snap your fingers in its face, and it won't bite you!" said Eustace.
"You will belong by that time."

Mr. Grey smiled a very kindly smile that had in it a touch of compassion.
He said nothing, but in a few minutes he rose to take his leave, and
then, with Dinah's hand held for a moment in his, he said in a low voice,
"I wish I might enlist your sympathy on behalf of one of my parishioners.
His wife is dying of cancer, and he is to be sent to gaol for poaching."

"Oh!" Dinah exclaimed in distress.

She looked quickly across at her fiancé, and saw that his brow was dark.

He said nothing whatever, and she went to him impulsively. "Eustace, must you send him to prison?"

He looked at her for a second, then turned, without responding, to the Vicar. "That was a very unnecessary move on your part, sir," he said icily. "I have told you my decision in the matter, and there it must rest. Justice is justice."

Dinah was looking at him very pleadingly; he laid his hand upon her arm, and she felt his fingers close with a strong, restraining pressure.

Mr. Grey turned to go. "I make no excuse, Sir Eustace," he said. "I am begging for mercy, not justice. My cause is urgent. If one weapon fails, I must employ another."

He went out with Scott, and Dinah was left alone with Sir Eustace.

He spoke at once, sternly and briefly, before she had time to open her lips. "Dinah, this is no matter for your interference. I forbid you to pursue it any further."

His tone was crushingly absolute; she saw that he was white with anger.

She felt the colour die out of her own cheeks as she faced him. But the Vicar's few words had made a deep impression upon her; she forced back her fear.

"But, Eustace, is it true?" she said. "Is the man's wife really dying? If so—if so—surely you will let him off!"

His grasp upon her arm tightened. "Are you going to disobey me?" he said warningly.

His look was terrible, but she braved it. "Yes—yes, I am," she said, with desperate courage. "Eustace, I've never asked you to do anything before. Couldn't you—can't you—do this one thing?"

She met the blazing wrath of his eyes though her heart felt stiff with fear. It had come so suddenly, this ordeal, but she braced herself to meet it. Horrible though it was to withstand him, the thought came to her that if she did not make the effort just once she would never have the strength again.

"You think me very impertinent," she said, speaking quickly through quivering lips. "But—but—I have a right to speak. If I am to be—your wife, you must not treat me as—a servant."

She saw his look change. The anger went out of it, but something that was more terrible to her took its place, something that she could not meet.

She flinched involuntarily, and in the same moment he drew her close to him. "Ah, Daphne, the adorable!" he said. "I've never seen you at bay before! You claim your privileges, do you? You think I can refuse you nothing?"

She shrank at his tone—the mastery of it, the confidence, the caress.

"You needn't be afraid," he said, and bent his face to hers. "Whatever you wish is law. But don't forget one thing! If I refuse you nothing, I must have everything in exchange. 'Love the gift is Love the debt,' my Daphne. You must give me freely all that you have in return."

She trembled in his embrace. Those passionate words of his frightened her anew. Was it possible—would it ever be possible—to give him—freely—all that she had?

The doubt shot through her like the stab of a dagger even while she gave him the kiss he demanded for her audacity. Her victory over him amazed her, so appalling had seemed the odds. But in a fashion it dismayed her too. He was too mighty a giant to kneel at her feet for long. He would exact payment in full, she was sure, she was sure, for all that he gave her now.

She was thankful when a ceremonious knock at the door compelled him to release her. Biddy presented herself very upright, primly correct.

"If ye please, Miss Dinah, Mrs. Everard is awake and will be pleased to see ye whenever it suits ye to go to her at all."

"Oh, I'll go now," said Dinah with relief. She glanced at Eustace. "You don't mind? You don't want me?"

"No, I have some business to discuss with Stumpy," he said. "Perhaps I will join you presently."

He took out a cigarette and lighted it, and Dinah turned; and went away with the old woman.

"And it's to be hoped he'll do nothing of the kind," remarked Biddy, as they walked through the long drawing-room. "For the very thought of him is enough to drive poor Miss Isabel scranny, specially in the evening."

"Is—is Miss Isabel so afraid of him?" asked Dinah under her breath.

Biddy nodded darkly. "She is that, Miss Dinah, and small blame to her."

Dinah pressed suddenly close. "Biddy, why?"

Biddy pursed her lips. "Faith, and it's meself that's afraid, ye'll find the answer to that only too soon, Miss Dinah dear!" she said solemnly. "I can't tell ye the straight truth. Ye wouldn't believe me if I did. Ye must watch for yourself, me jewel. Ye've got a woman's intelligence. Don't ye be afraid to use it!"

It was the soundest piece of advice that she had ever heard from Biddy's lips, and Dinah accepted it in silence. She had known for some time that Biddy had small love for Sir Eustace, but it was evident that the precise reason for this was not to be conveyed in words. She wished she could have persuaded her to be more explicit, but something held her back from attempting to gain the information that Biddy withheld. It was better—surely it was sometimes better—not to know too much.

They met Scott as they turned out of the drawing-room, and Biddy's grim old face softened at the sight of him.

He paused: "Hullo! Going to Isabel? Has she had a good rest, Biddy?"

"Glory to goodness, Master Scott, she has!" said Biddy fervently.

"That's all right." Scott prepared to pass on. "Eustace hasn't gone, I suppose?"

"No, he is in there, waiting for you." Dinah detained him for a moment. "Scott, he—I think he is going to—to let that man off with a light sentence."

"What?" said Scott. "Dinah, you witch! How on earth did you do it?"

He looked so pleased that her heart gave a throb of triumph. It had been well worth while just to win that look from him.

She smiled back at him. "I don't know. I really don't know. But,—Scott"—she became a little breathless—"if—if he really wants me to-morrow, I think—p'raps—I'd better go."

Scott gave her his straight, level look. There was a moment's pause before he said, "Wait till to-morrow comes anyway!" and with that he was gone, limping through the great room with that steady but unobtrusive purpose that ever, to Dinah's mind, redeemed him from insignificance.

"Ah! He's the gentleman is Master Scott," said Biddy's voice at her side. "Ye'll never meet his like in all the world. It's a sad life he leads, poor young gentleman, but he keeps a brave heart though never a single joy comes his way. May the Almighty reward him and give him his desire before it's too late."

"What desire?" asked Dinah.

Biddy shot her a lightning glance from her beady eyes ere again mysteriously she shook her head.

"And it's the innocent lamb that ye are entirely, Miss Dinah dear," she said.

With which enigmatical answer Dinah was forced to be content.

CHAPTER IX THE BURDEN

Sir Eustace was standing by the window of the little boudoir when his brother entered, and Scott joined him there. He also lighted a cigarette, and they smoked together in silence for several seconds.

Finally Eustace turned with his faint, supercilious smile. "What's the matter, Stumpy? Something on your mind?"

Scott met his look. "Something I've got to say to you anyway, old chap, that rather sticks in my gullet."

Sir Eustace laughed. "You carry conscience enough for the two of us. What is it? Fire away!"

Scott puffed at his cigarette. "You won't like it," he observed. "But it's got to be said. Look here, Eustace! It's all very well to be in love. But you're carrying it too far. The child's downright afraid of you."

"Has she told you so?" demanded Eustace. A hot gleam suddenly shone in his blue eyes. He looked down at Scott with a frown.

Scott shook his head. "If she had, I shouldn't tell you so. But the fact remains. You're a bit of an ogre, you know, always have been. Slack off a bit, there's a good fellow! You'll find it's worth it."

He spoke with the utmost gentleness, but there was determination in his quiet eyes. Having spoken, he turned them upon the garden again and resumed his cigarette.

There fell a brief silence between them. Sir Eustace was no longer smoking. His frown had deepened. Suddenly he laid his hand upon Scott's shoulder.

"It's my turn now," he said. "I've something to say to you."

"Well?" said Scott. He stiffened a little at the hold upon him, but he did not attempt to frustrate it.

"Only this." Eustace pressed upon him as one who would convey a warning. "You've interfered with me more than once lately, and I've borne with it—more or less patiently.