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

with a little movement of pleasure. "Good morning, Mr. Studley! I have been waiting here for you. I have brought down your sister's trinkets. Here they are!" She held out a neat little paper parcel to him. "Please will you thank her again for them very, very much? I do hope she didn't think me very rude last night,—though I'm afraid I was."

Her look was wistful. He took the packet from her with a smile.

"Of course she didn't. She was delighted with you. When are you coming to see her again?"

"I don't know," said Dinah.

"Come to tea!" suggested Scott.

Dinah hesitated, flushing.

"You've something else to do?" he asked in his cheery way. "Well, come another time if it won't bore you!"

"Oh, it isn't that!" said Dinah, and her flush deepened. "I—I would love to come. Only—" She glanced round at an elderly couple who had just come out, and stopped.

"I'm going down to the village with my letters," said Scott. "Will you come too?"

She welcomed the idea. "Oh yes, I should like to. It's such a glorious morning again, isn't it? It's a shame not to go out."

"Sure you're not wanting to skate?" he questioned.

"Yes, quite sure. I—I'm rather tired this morning, but a walk will do me good."

They passed the rink without pausing, though Scott glanced across to see his brother skimming along in the distance with a red-clad figure beside him. He made no comment upon the sight, and Dinah was silent also. Her gay animation that morning was wholly a minus quantity.

They went on down the hill, talking but little. Speech in Scott's society was never a necessity. His silences were so obviously friendly. He had a shrewd suspicion on this occasion that the girl beside him had something to say, and he waited for it with a courteous patience, abstaining from interrupting her very evident preoccupation.

They walked between fields of snow, all glistening in the sunshine. The blue of the sky was no longer sapphire but glorious turquoise. The very air sparkled, diamond-clear in the crystal splendour of the day.

Suddenly Dinah spoke. "I suppose one always feels horrid the next morning."

"Are you feeling the reaction?" asked Scott.

"Oh, it isn't only that, I'm feeling—ashamed," said Dinah, blushing very deeply.

He did not look at her. "I don't see why," he said gently, after a moment.

"Oh, but you do!" she said impatiently. "At least you can if you try. You knew I was wrong to go down again for that last dance, just as well as I did. Why, you tried to stop me!"

"Which was very presumptuous of me," said Scott.

"No, it wasn't. It was kind. And I—I was a perfect pig not to listen. I want you to know that, Mr. Studley. I want you to know that I'm very, very sorry I didn't listen." She spoke with trembling vehemence.

Scott smiled a little. He was looking tired that morning. There were weary lines about his eyes. "I don't know why you should be so very penitent, Miss Bathurst," he said. "It was quite a small thing."

"It got me into bad trouble anyway," said Dinah. "I've had a tremendous wigging from the Colonel this morning, and if—if I ever do anything so bad again, we're to be sent home."

"I call that unreasonable," said Scott with decision. "It was not such a serious matter as all that. If you want my opinion, I think it was a mistake—a small mistake—on your part; nothing more."

"But that wasn't all," said Dinah, looking away from him and quickening her pace, "I—I have offended your brother too."

"Good heavens!" said Scott. "And is that serious too?"

"Don't laugh!" protested Dinah. "Of course it's serious. He—he won't even look at me this morning." The sound of tears came suddenly into her voice. "I was waiting for you on the verandah a little while ago, and—and he went by with Rose and never glanced my way. All because—because—oh, I am a little fool!" she declared, with an angry stamp of the foot as she walked.

"He's the fool!" said Scott rather shortly. "I shouldn't bother myself over that if I were you."

"I can't help it," said Dinah, her voice squeaking on a note half-indignant, half-piteous. "I—I behaved so idiotically, just like a raw schoolgirl. And I hate myself for it now!"

Scott looked at her for the first time since the beginning of her confidences. "Do you know, Miss Bathurst," he said, "I have a suspicion that you are much too hard on yourself. Of course I don't know what happened, but I do know that my brother is much more likely to have been in the wrong than you were. The best thing you can do is simply to dismiss the matter from your mind. Behave as if nothing had happened! Cut him next time! It's far the best way of treating him."

Dinah smiled woefully. "And he will spread himself at Rose's feet like all the rest, and never come near me again."

Scott frowned a little. "Miss de Vigne won't have the monopoly, I can assure you."

"She will," protested Dinah. "She knows how to flirt without being caught. I don't."

"Thank the gods for that!" said Scott with fervour. "So he tried to flirt, did he? And you objected. Was that it?"

"Something like that," murmured Dinah, with hot face averted.

"Then in heaven's name, continue to object!" he said, with unusual vehemence. "You did the right thing, child. Don't be drawn into doing what others do! Strike out a straight line for yourself, and stick to it! Above all, don't be ashamed of sticking to it! No woman was ever yet the better or the more attractive for cultivating her talent for flirting. Don't you know that it is your very genuineness and straightforwardness that is your charm?"

Dinah looked at him in sheer surprise. "I haven't got any charm," she said. "That's just the trouble. It was only my dancing that made your brother fancy I had last night."

Scott's frown deepened, became almost formidable, then suddenly vanished in a laugh. "That's just your point of view," he said. "Perhaps it's a pity to open your eyes. But whatever you do, don't try to humour my brother's whims! It would be very bad for him, and you certainly wouldn't gain anything by it. Put up with me for a change, and come to tea instead!"

A flash of gaiety gleamed for a moment in Dinah's eyes. It was the first he had seen that morning. "I'll come," she said, "if Lady Grace will let me. But I think I had better ask first, don't you?"

"Perhaps it would be safer," agreed Scott. "Tell her my sister is an invalid! I don't think she will object. I made the acquaintance of the doughty Colonel last night."

"You know he isn't a bad sort," said Dinah. "He is much nicer than Lady Grace or Rose. Of course he's rather stuck up, but that's only natural. He's lived so long in India, and now he's a J.P. into the bargain. It would be rather wonderful if he were anything else. Billy can't bear him, but then Billy's a boy."

"I like Billy," observed Scott.

"Yes, and Billy likes you," she answered warmly. "He's quite an intelligent boy."

"Evidently," agreed Scott, with a smile. "Now here is the village! Where do I post my letters?"

Dinah directed him with cheerful alacrity. She was feeling much happier; her tottering self-respect was almost restored.

"He is a dear little man!" she said to herself with enthusiasm, as she waited for him to purchase some stamps.

"You've done me no end of good," she said frankly to the man himself as they turned back.

"I am very pleased to hear it," said Scott. "And it is extremely kind of you to say so."

"It's the truth," she maintained. "And, oh, you haven't been smoking all this time. Don't you want to?"

He stopped at once, and took out his cigarette-case. "Now you mention it,
I think I do. But I mustn't dawdle. I have got to get back to Isabel."

Dinah waited while the cigarette kindled. Then, with a touch of shyness, she spoke.

"Mr. Studley, has—has your sister been an invalid for long?"

He looked at her. "Do you want to hear about her?"

"Yes, please," said Dinah. "If you don't mind."

He began to walk on. It was evident that the hill was something of a difficulty to him. He moved slowly, and his limp became more pronounced. "No, I should like to tell you about her," he said. "You were so good yesterday, and I hadn't prepared you in the least. I hope it didn't give you a shock."

"Of course it didn't," Dinah answered. "I'm not such a donkey as that. I was only very, very sorry."

"Thank you," he said, as if she had expressed direct sympathy with himself. "It's hard to believe, isn't it, that seven years ago she was—even lovelier than the beautiful Miss de Vigne, only in a very different style?"

"Not in the least," Dinah assured him. "She is far lovelier than Rose now. She must have been—beautiful."

"She was," said Scott. "She was like Eustace, except that she was always much softer than he is. You would scarcely believe either that she is three years younger than he is, would you?"

"I certainly shouldn't," Dinah admitted. "But then, she must have come through years of suffering."

"Yes," Scott spoke with slight constraint, as though he could not bear to dwell on the subject. "She was a girl of intensely vivid feelings, very passionate and warmhearted. She and Eustace were inseparable in the old days. They did everything together. He thought more of her than of anyone else in the world. He does still."

"He wasn't very nice to her last night," Dinah ventured.

"No. He is often like that, and she is afraid of him. But the reason of it is that he feels her trouble so horribly, and whenever he sees her in that mood it hurts him intolerably. He is quite a good chap underneath, Miss Bathurst. Like Isabel, he feels certain things intensely. Of course he is five years older than I am, and we have never been pals in the sense that he and she were pals. I was always a slow-goer, and they went like the wind. But I know him. I know what his feelings are, and what this thing has been to him. And though I am now much more to Isabel than he will probably ever be again, he has never resented it or been anything but generous and willing to give place to me. That, you know, indicates greatness. With all his faults, he is great."

"He shouldn't make her afraid of him," Dinah said.

"I am afraid that is inevitable. He is strong, and she has lost her strength. Her marriage too alienated them in the first place. She had refused so many before Basil Everard came along, and I suppose he had begun to think that she was not the marrying sort. But Everard caught her almost in a day. They met in India. Eustace and she were touring there one winter. Everard was a senior subaltern in a Ghurka regiment—an awfully taking chap evidently. They practically fell in love with one another at sight. Poor old Eustace!" Scott paused, faintly smiling. "He meant her to marry well if she married at all, and Basil was no more than the son of a country parson without a penny to his name. However, the thing was past remedy. I saw that when they came home, and Isabel told me about it. I was at Oxford then. She came down alone for a night, and begged me to try and talk Eustace over. It was the beginning of a barrier between them even then. It has grown high since. Eustace is a difficult man to move, you know. I did my level best with him, but I wasn't very successful. In the end of course the inevitable happened. Isabel lost patience and broke away. She was on her way out again before either of us knew. Eustace—of course Eustace was furious." Scott paused again.

Dinah's silence denoted keen interest. Her expression was absorbed.

He went on, the touch of constraint again apparent in his manner. It was evident that the narration stirred up deep feelings. "We three had always hung together. The family tie meant a good deal to us for the simple reason that we were practically the only Studleys left.