Greatheart, Ethel May Dell [children's books read aloud TXT] 📗

and seated himself in a chair on the other side of the fire. He drank some whisky and water in large, appreciative gulps, and resumed his cigarette.

"If Dinah had seriously wanted to get away from it, she should have married your brother," he said then. "It was her own doing entirely, this last affair. A girl shouldn't jilt her lover at the last moment if she isn't prepared to face the consequences. She knows her mother's temper by this time, I should imagine. She might have guessed what was in store for her." He looked across at Scott as one seeking sympathy. "You'll admit it was a tomfool thing to do," he said. "I don't wonder at her mother wanting to make her smart for it. I really don't. Dinah ought to have known her own mind."

"She knows it now," said Scott grimly.

"Yes. So it appears. By the way, have you any idea what induced her to throw your brother over in that way just at the last minute? It would be interesting to know."

"Did she give you no reason?" said Scott. He hated parleying with the man, but something impelled him thereto.

Guy Bathurst leaning back at his ease with his cigarette between his lips, uttered a careless laugh. "She seemed to think she wasn't in love with him. We couldn't get any more out of her than that. As a matter of fact her mother was too furious to attempt it. But there must have been some other reason. I wondered if you knew what it was."

"I shouldn't have thought it essential that there should have been any other reason," Scott said deliberately. "If there is—I am not in her confidence."

He was still on his feet as if he wished it to be clearly understood that he did not intend their conversation to develop into anything of the nature of friendly intercourse.

Bathurst continued to smoke, but a faint air of insolence was apparent in his attitude. He was not accustomed to being treated with contempt, and the desire awoke within him to find some means of disconcerting this undersized whippersnapper who had almost succeeded in making him feel cheap.

"You haven't been making love to her on your own account by any chance, I suppose?" he enquired lazily.

Scott's eyes flashed upon him a swift and hawk-like regard, and the hauteur that so often characterized his brother suddenly descended upon him and clothed him as a mantle.

"I have not," he said.

"Quite sure?" persisted Bathurst, still amiably smiling. "It's my belief she's smitten with you, you know. I've thought so all along. Funny idea, isn't it? Never occurred to you of course?"

Scott made no reply, but his silence was more scathing than speech. It served to arouse all the rancour of which Bathurst's indolent nature was capable.

"No accounting for women's preference, is there?" he said. "You ought to feel vastly flattered, my good sir. It isn't many women would put you before that handsome brother of yours. How did you work it, eh? Come, you're caught! So you may as well own up."

Scott shrugged his shoulders abruptly, disdainfully, and turned from him. "If you choose to amuse yourself at your daughter's expense, I cannot prevent you," he said. "But there is not a grain of truth in your insinuation. I repudiate it absolutely."

"My dear fellow, that's a bit thick," laughed Bathurst; he had found the vulnerable spot, and he meant to make the most of it. "Do you actually expect me to believe that you won her away from your brother without knowing it? That's rather a tough proposition, too tough for my middle-aged digestion. You've been trifling with her young affections, but you are not man enough to own it."

"You are wrong, utterly wrong," Scott said. He restrained himself with difficulty; for still something was at work within him urging him to be temperate. "Dinah has never dreamed of falling in love with me. As you say, the bare idea is manifestly absurd."

"Then who is she in love with?" demanded Bathurst, with lazy insistence. "You're the only other man she knows, and there's certainly someone. No girl would throw up such a catch as your brother for the mere sentiment of the thing. It stands to reason there must be someone else. And there is no one but you. She doesn't know anyone else, I tell you. She has no opportunities. Her mother sees to that."

Scott was bending over the fire, his face to the flame. His indignation had died down. He was very still, as one deep in thought. Could it be the true word spoken in ill-timed jest which he had just heard? He wondered; he wondered.

A golden radiance was spreading forth to him from the heart of those leaping flames, like the coming of the dawnlight over the dark earth. He watched it spell-bound, utterly unmindful of the man behind him. If this thing were true! Ah, if this thing were true!

A sudden sound made him turn to see Colonel de Vigne and his daughter enter.

They came forward to greet him and Bathurst. Rose was smiling; her eyes were softly bright.

"How happy she looks!" was the thought that occurred to him, but it was only a passing thought. It vanished in a moment as he 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