Greatheart by Ethel May Dell (classic books for 12 year olds .txt) 📖

heard her accost Bathurst.
"How is our poor little Dinah by this time?"
"You had better ask this gentleman," airily responded Bathurst. "He has elected to make himself responsible for her welfare."
Rose's delicate brows went up, but very strangely Scott no longer felt in the least disconcerted. He replied to her unspoken query without difficulty.
"Dinah felt that she could not face the gossips," he said, "and as Isabel was badly wanting her, they have gone away together. Except for old Biddy, they will be quite alone, and it will do them both all the good in the world."
Rose's brow cleared. "What an excellent arrangement!" she murmured sympathetically. "And--your brother?"
Scott smiled. "Needless to say, he is not of the party. His plans are somewhat uncertain. He may go abroad for a time, but I doubt if he banishes himself for long when the London season is in full swing."
Rose's smile answered his. "I think he is very wise," she said. "When Easter is over, we shall probably follow his example. I hope we shall have the pleasure of meeting you when we are all in town."
"Ha! So do I," said the Colonel. "You must look me up at the Club--any time. I shall be delighted."
"You are very kind," Scott said. "But I go to town very rarely, and I never stay there. My brother is far more of a society man than I am."
"You will have to come out of your shell," smiled Rose.
"Quite so--quite so," agreed the Colonel. "It isn't fair to cheat society, you know. If we can't dance at your brother's wedding, you might give us the pleasure of dancing at yours."
Bathurst uttered a careless laugh. "I've just been accusing him of cutting his brother out," he said lightly. "But he denies all knowledge of the transaction."
"Oh, but what a shame!" interposed Rose quickly. "Mr. Studley, we won't listen to this gossip. Will you come up to my sitting-room, and show me that new game of Patience you were talking about yesterday? Bring your drink with you!"
He went with her almost in silence.
In her own room she turned upon him with a wonderful, illumined smile, and held out her hand.
"I won't have you badgered," she said. "But--it is true, is it not?"
He took her hand, looking straight into her beautiful eyes. There was more life in her face at that moment than he had ever seen before. She was as one suddenly awakened. "What is true, Miss de Vigne?" he questioned.
"That you care for her," she answered, "that she cares for you."
His look remained full upon her. "In a friendly sense, yes," he said.
"In no other sense?" she insisted. Her eyes were shining, as if her whole soul were suddenly alight with animation. "Tell me," she said, as he did not speak immediately, "have you ever cared for her merely as a friend?"
There was no evading the question, neither for some reason could he resent it. He hesitated for a second or two; then, "You have guessed right," he said quietly. "But she has never suspected it, and--she never will."
To his surprise Rose frowned. "But why not tell her?" she said. "Surely she has a right to know!"
He smiled and shook his head. "Pardon me! No one has the smallest right to know. Would you say that of yourself if you cared for someone who did not care for you?"
She blushed under his eyes suddenly and very vividly, and in a moment turned from him. "Ah, but that is different!" she said. "A woman is different! If she gives her heart where it is not wanted, that is her affair alone."
He did not pursue his advantage; he liked her for the blush.
"Isn't it rather an unprofitable discussion?" he said gently. "Suppose we get to our game of Patience!"
And Rose acquiesced in silence.


CHAPTER XXIII
THE KNIGHT IN DISGUISE

A long, curling wave ran up the shingle and broke in a snow-white sheet of foam just below Dinah's feet. She was perched on a higher ridge of shingle, bareheaded, full in the glare of the mid-June sunlight. Her brown hands were locked tightly around her knees. Her small, pointed face looked wistfully over the sea.
She had been sitting in that position for a long time, her green eyes unblinking but swimming in the heat and glare. The dark ringlets on her forehead danced in the soft breeze that came over the water. There was tension in her attitude, the tension of deep and concentrated thought.
Into the midst of her meditations, there came a slow, halting step. It fell on the shingle behind her, reaching her above the roar of the breakers, and instantly a flood of colour rushed up over her face and neck.
Sharply she turned. "Scott!"
She was on her feet in a second with hand outstretched in welcome.
"Oh, how you startled me! How good of you to come so soon! I--shouldn't have left the house if I had known."
"I came at once," he said simply. "But I have only just got here. I saw you sitting on the shore and came straight to you. What news?"
His quiet, deliberate voice was in striking contrast to her agitated utterance. The hand that held hers was absolutely steady.
She met his look with confidence. "Scott, she is going. You knew it--didn't you?--when you were here last Sunday? She knew it too. She didn't want you to go really. And so--directly I realized she was worse--I sent for you. But--they say--even now she may linger for a little. But you'll stay, won't you? You won't go again?"
His grave eyes looked into hers. "Of course I will stay," he said.
She drew a quick sigh of relief. "She scarcely slept last night. Her breathing was so bad. It was very hot, you know. The nurse or I were fanning her nearly all the time, till the morning breeze came at last. And then she got quieter. She is asleep now. They say she will sleep for hours. And so I slipped out just for a little, so as to be quite fresh again when she wakes."
"Don't you sleep at all?" Scott asked gently.
The colour was fading from her face; it returned at his question. "Oh yes, any time. It doesn't matter for me. I am so strong. And I can sleep--afterwards."
He looked down at the thin little hand he still held. "You mustn't wear yourself out, Dinah," he said.
Her lip quivered suddenly, "What does it matter?" she said. "I've nothing else to live for."
"I don't think we can any of us say that," he answered. "There is always something left."
She turned her face and looked over the sea. "I'm sure I don't know what," she said, with a catch in her voice. "If--Isabel--were going to live, if--if I could only have her always, I should be quite happy. I shouldn't want anything else. But without her--life without her--after these two months,--" her voice broke and ceased.
"I know," Scott said. "I should have felt the same myself not so long ago. I have let you slip into my place, you see; and it comes hard on you now. But don't forget our friendship, Dinah! Don't forget I'm here!"
She turned back, swallowing her tears with difficulty and gave him a quivering smile. "Oh, I know. You are so good. And it was dear of you to--to let me take your place with her. None but you would have done such a thing."
"My dear, it was far better for her, and she wished it," he interposed. "Besides, with Eustace away, I had plenty to do. You mustn't twist that into a virtue. It was the only course open to me. I knew that it would lift her out of misery to have you, and--naturally--I wished it too."
She nodded. "It was just like you. And I--I ought to have remembered that it couldn't last. It has been such a comfort to--to have my darling to love and care for. But oh, the blank when she is gone!"
Scott was silent.
"It's wrong to want to keep her, I know," Dinah went on wistfully. "She has got so wonderfully happy of late; and I know it is the thought of nearing the end of the journey that makes her so. And when I am with her, I feel happy too for her sake. But when I am away from her--it--it's all so dreary. I--feel so frightened and--alone."
"Don't be frightened!" Scott said gently. "You never are alone."
"Ah, but life is so difficult," she whispered.
"It would be," he answered, "if we had to face it all at once. But, thank God, that is not so. We can only see a little way ahead. We can only do a little at a time."
"Do you think that is a help?" she said. "I would give anything--sometimes--to look into the future."
"I think the burden would be greater than we could bear," Scott said.
"Oh, do you? I think it would be such a relief to know." Dinah uttered a sharp sigh. "It's no good talking," she said. "Only one thing is certain. I'm not going to break with Billy of course, but I'll never go back to Perrythorpe again, never as long as I live!"
There was a quiver of passion in her voice. She looked at Scott with what was almost a challenge in her eyes.
He did not answer it. His face wore a look of perplexity. But, "If I were in your place," he said quietly, "I think I should say the same."
"I am sure you would," she said warmly. "I only tolerated it so long because I didn't know what freedom was like. When I went to Switzerland, I found out; and when I came back, it just wasn't endurable any longer. But I wish I knew--I do wish I knew--what I were going to do."
The words were out before she could stop them, but the moment they were uttered she made a sharp gesture as though she would recall them.
"I'm silly to talk like this," she said. "Please forget it!"
He smiled a little. "Not silly, Dinah," he said, "but mistaken. Believe me, the future is already provided for."
Her brows contracted slightly. "Ah, you are good," she said. "You believe in God."
"So do you," he said, with quiet conviction.
Her lip quivered. "I believe He would help anyone like you, but--but He wouldn't bother Himself about me. There are too many others of the same sort."
Scott looked at her in genuine astonishment. "What a curious idea!" he said. "You don't really think that, do you?"
She nodded. "I can't help it. Life is such a maze of difficulties, and one has to face them all alone."
"You won't face yours alone," he said quickly.
She smiled rather piteously. "I've faced all the worst bits alone so far."
"I know," Scott said. "But you are through the worst now."
She shook her head doubtfully. "I'm afraid of life," she said.
He saw that she did not wish to pursue the subject and put it gently aside. "Shall we go in?" he said. "I should like to be at hand when Isabel wakes."
She turned beside him at once. Their talk went back to Isabel. They spoke of her tenderly, as one nearing the end of a long and wearisome journey, and as they approached the little white house on the heath above the sea, Dinah gave somewhat hesitating utterance to a thought that had been persistently in her mind of late.
"Do you," she said, speaking with evident effort, "think that--Eustace should be sent for?"
"Does she want him?" said Scott.
"I don't know. She never speaks of him. But then--that may