Greatheart

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER VIII

  MR. GREATHEART

  It was a very meek and subdued Dinah who made her appearance in the_salle-a-manger_ on the following morning.

  She and Billy were generally in the best of spirits, and the room usuallyrang with their young laughter. But that morning even Billy wasdecorously quiet, and his sister scarcely spoke or raised her eyes.

  Colonel de Vigne, white-moustached and martial, sat at the table withthem, but neither Lady Grace nor Rose was present. The Colonel's face wasstern. He occupied himself with letters with scarcely so much as a glancefor the boy and girl on either side of him.

  There was a letter by Dinah's plate also, but she had not opened it. Herdowncast face was very pale. She ate but little, and that little onlywhen urged thereto by Billy, whose appetite was rampant notwithstandingthe decorum of his behaviour.

  Scott, breakfasting with his brother at a table only a few yards distant,observed the trio with unobtrusive interest.

  He had made acquaintance with the Colonel on the previous evening, andafter a time the latter caught his eye and threw him a brief greeting.Most people were polite to Scott. But the Colonel's whole aspect wasforbidding that morning, and his courtesy went no further.

  Sir Eustace did not display the smallest interest in anyone. His blackbrows were drawn, and he looked even more haughtily unapproachable thanthe Colonel.

  He conversed with his brother in low tones on the subject of themorning's mail which lay at Scott's elbow and which he was investigatingwhile he ate. Now and then he gave concise and somewhat peremptoryinstructions, which Scott jotted down in a note-book with business-likerapidity. No casual observer would have taken them for brothers thatmorning. They were employer and secretary.

  Only when the last letter had been discussed and laid aside did the elderabruptly abandon his aloof attitude to ask a question upon a moreintimate matter.

  "Did Isabel go without a sleeping-draught last night?"

  Scott shook his head.

  Eustace's frown became even more pronounced. "Did Biddy administer it onher own?"

  "No. I authorized it." Scott's voice was low. He met his brother's lookwith level directness.

  Eustace leaned towards him across the table. "I won't have it, Stumpy,"he said very decidedly. "I told you so yesterday."

  "I know." Very steadily Scott made answer. "But last night there was noalternative. It is impossible to do the thing suddenly. She has hardlygot over the journey yet."

  "Rubbish!" said Eustace curtly.

  Scott slightly raised his shoulders, and said no more.

  "It comes to this," Eustace said, speaking with stern insistence. "If youcan't--or won't--assert your authority, I shall assert mine. It is all aquestion of influence."

  "Or forcible persuasion," said Scott, with a touch of irony.

  "Very well. Call it that! It is in a good cause. If you haven't thestrength of mind, I have; and I shall exercise it. These drugs must betaken away. Can't you see it's the only possible thing to do?"

  "Not yet," Scott said. He was still facing his brother's grim regard verygravely and unflinchingly. "I tell you, man, it is too soon. She isbetter than she used to be. She is calmer, more reasonable. We must dothe thing gradually, if at all. To interfere forcibly would do infinitelymore harm than good. I know what I am saying. I know her far better thanyou do now. I am in closer touch with her. You are out of sympathy. Youonly startle her when you try to persuade her to anything. You must leaveher to me. I understand her. I know how to help her."

  "You haven't achieved much in the last seven years," Eustace observed.

  "But I have achieved something." Scott's answer was wholly free fromresentment. He spoke with quiet confidence. "I know it's a slow process.But she is moving in the right direction. Give her time, old chap! Ifirmly believe that she will come back to us by slow degrees."

  "Damnably slow," commented Eustace. "You're so infernally deliberatealways. You talk as if it were your life-work."

  Scott's eyes shone with a whimsical light. "I begin to think it is," hesaid. "Have you finished? Suppose we go." He gathered up the sheaf ofpapers at his elbow and rose. "I will attend to these at once."

  Eustace strode down the long room looking neither to right nor left,moving with a free, British arrogance that served to emphasize somewhatcruelly the meagreness and infirmity of the man behind him. Yet it wasupon the latter's slight, halting figure that Dinah's eyes dwelt till itfinally limped out of sight, and in her look were wonder and a vagrantadmiration. There was an undeniable attraction about Scott that affectedher very curiously, but wherein it lay she could not possibly have said.She was furious when a murmured comment and laugh from some girls at thenext table reached her.

  "What a dear little lap-dog!" said one.

  "Yes, I've been wanting to pat its head for a long time," said another.

  "Warranted not to bite," laughed a third. "Can it really be full-grown?"

  "Oh, no doubt, my dear! Look at its pretty little whiskers! It's just atoy, you know, nothing but a toy."

  Dinah turned in her chair, and gazed scathingly upon the group ofcritics. Then, aware of the Colonel's eyes upon her, she turned back andgave him a swift look of apology.

  He shook his head at her repressively, his whole air magisterial andcondemnatory. "You may go if you wish," he said, in the tone of onedismissing an offender. "But be good enough to bear in mind what I havesaid to you!"

  Billy leapt to his feet. "Can I go too, sir?" he asked eagerly.

  The Colonel signified majestic assent. His mood was very far from genialthat morning, and he had not the smallest desire to detain either ofthem. In fact, if he could have dismissed his two young chargesaltogether, he would have done so with alacrity. But that unfortunatelywas out of the question--unless by their behaviour they provoked him tofulfil the very definite threat that he had pronounced to Dinah in theprivacy of his wife's room an hour before.

  He was very seriously displeased with Dinah, more displeased than he hadbeen with anyone since his soldiering days, and he had expressed himselfwith corresponding severity. If she could not conduct herself becominglyand obediently, he would take them both straight home again and thus puta summary end to temptation. His own daughter had never given him anycause for uneasiness, and he did not see why he should be burdened withthe escapades of anyone else's troublesome offspring. It was too much toexpect at his time of life.

  So a severe reprimand had been Dinah's portion, to which she, very meekand crestfallen, shorn of all the previous evening's glories, hadlistened with a humility that had slightly mollified her judge though hehad been careful not to let her know it. She had been wild and flighty,and he was determined that she should feel the rod of discipline prettysmartly.

  But when he finally rose from the table and stalked out of the room, itwas a little disconcerting to find the culprit awaiting him in thevestibule to slip a shy hand inside his arm and whisper, "Do forgive me!I'm so sorry."

  He looked down into her quivering face, saw the pleading eyes swimming intears, and abruptly found that his displeasure had evaporated socompletely that he could not even pretend to be angry any longer. He hadnever taken much notice of Dinah before, treating her, as did his wifeand daughter, as a mere child and of no account. But now he suddenlyrealized that she was an engaging minx after all.

  "Ashamed of yourself?" he asked gruffly, his white moustache twitching alittle.

  Dinah nodded mutely.

  "Then don't do it again!" he said, and grasped the little brown hand fora moment with quite unwonted kindness.

  It was a tacit forgiveness, and as such Dinah treated it. She smiledthankfully through her tears, and slipped away to recover her composure.

  Nearly an hour later, Scott, having finished his letters, came upon hersitting somewhat disconsolately in the verandah. He paused on his wayout.

  "Good morning, Miss Bathurst! Aren't you going to skate this morning?"

  She turned to him with a little moveme
nt of pleasure. "Good morning, Mr.Studley! I have been waiting here for you. I have brought down yoursister's trinkets. Here they are!" She held out a neat little paperparcel 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 Iwas."

  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 tosee 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, comeanother time if it won't bore you!"

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

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

  She welcomed the idea. "Oh yes, I should like to. It's such a gloriousmorning 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 megood."

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

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

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

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

  "Are you feeling the reaction?" asked Scott.

  "Oh, it isn't only that, I'm feeling--ashamed," said Dinah, blushing verydeeply.

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

  "Oh, but you do!" she said impatiently. "At least you can if you try. Youknew I was wrong to go down again for that last dance, just as well as Idid. 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. Iwant 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 wereweary lines about his eyes. "I don't know why you should be so verypenitent, Miss Bathurst," he said. "It was quite a small thing."

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

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

  "But that wasn't all," said Dinah, looking away from him and quickeningher 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'teven look at me this morning." The sound of tears came suddenly intoher 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. Allbecause--because--oh, I am a little fool!" she declared, with an angrystamp of the foot as she walked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "Thank the gods for that!" said Scott with fervour. "So he tried toflirt, 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 unusualvehemence. "You did the right thing, child. Don't be drawn into doingwhat 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 thebetter or the more attractive for cultivating her talent for flirting.Don't you know that it is your very genuineness and straightforwardnessthat is your charm?"

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

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

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

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

  "You know he isn't a bad sort," said Dinah. "He is much nicer than LadyGrace 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. Itwould 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 anintelligent boy."

  "Evidently," agreed Scott, with a smile. "Now here is the village! Wheredo 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 shewaited for him to purchase some stamps.

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

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

  "It's the truth," she maintained. "And, oh, you haven't been smoking allthis 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 adifficulty 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 giveyou a shock."

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

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

  "Not in the least," Dinah assured him. "She is far lovelier than Rosenow. She must have been--beautiful."

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

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

  "Yes," Scott spoke with slight constraint, as though he could not bear todwell on the subject. "She was a girl of intensely vivid feelings, verypassionate and warmhearted. She and Eustace were inseparable in the olddays. They did everything together. He thought more of her than of anyoneelse 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 ofit is that he feels her trouble so horribly, and whenever he sees her inthat mood it hurts him intolerably. He is quite a good chap underneath,Miss Bathurst. Like Isabel, he feels certain things intensely. Of coursehe is five years older than I am, and we have never been pals in thesense that he and she were pals. I was always a slow-goer, and they wentlike the wind. But I know him. I know what his feelings are, and whatthis thing has been to him. And though I am now much more to Isabel thanhe will probably ever be again, he has never resented it or been anythingbut generous and willing to give place to me. That, you know, indicatesgreatness. 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 herstrength. Her marriage too alienated them in the first place. She hadrefused so many before Basil Everard came along, and I suppose he hadbegun to think that she was not the marrying sort. But Everard caught heralmost in a day. They met in India. Eustace and she were touring thereone winter. Everard was a senior subaltern in a Ghurka regiment--anawfully taking chap evidently. They practically fell in love with oneanother at sight. Poor old Eustace!" Scott paused, faintly smiling. "Hemeant her to marry well if she married at all, and Basil was no more thanthe son of a country parson without a penny to his name. However, thething was past remedy. I saw that when they came home, and Isabel told meabout it. I was at Oxford then. She came down alone for a night, andbegged me to try and talk Eustace over. It was the beginning of a barrierbetween them even then. It has grown high since. Eustace is a difficultman to move, you know. I did my level best with him, but I wasn't verysuccessful. In the end of course the inevitable happened. Isabel lostpatience and broke away. She was on her way out again before either of usknew. 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 wasevident that the narration stirred up deep feelings. "We three had alwayshung together. The family tie meant a good deal to us for the simplereason that we were practically the only Studleys left. My father haddied six years before, my mother at my birth. Eustace was the head of thefamily, and he and Isabel had been all in all to each other. He felt hergoing more than I can possibly tell you, and scarcely a week after thenews came he got his things together and went off in the yacht to SouthAmerica to get over it by himself. I stayed on at Oxford, but I made upmy mind to go out to her in the vacation. A few days after his going, Ihad a cable to say they were married. A week after that, there cameanother cable to say that Everard was dead."

  "Oh!" Dinah drew a short, hard breath. "Poor Isabel!" she whispered.

  "Yes." Scott's pale eyes were gazing straight ahead. "He was killed twodays after the marriage. They had gone up to the Hills, to a place heknew of right in the wilds on the side of a mountain, and pitched campthere. There were only themselves, a handful of Pathan coolies withmules, and a _shikari_. The day after they got there, he took her up themountain to show her some of the beauties of the place, and they lunchedon a ledge about a couple of hundred feet above a great lonely tarn. Itwas a wonderful place but very savage, horribly desolate. They restedafter the meal, and then, Isabel being still tired, he left her to baskin the sunshine while he went a little further. He told her to wait forhim. He was only going round the corner. There was a great bastion ofrock jutting on to the ledge. He wanted to have a look round the otherside of it. He went,--and he never came back."

  "He fell?" Dinah turned a shocked face upon him. "Oh, how dreadful!"

  "He must have fallen. The ledge dwindled on the other side of the rock tolittle more than four feet in width for about six yards. There was asheer drop below into the pool. A man of steady nerve, accustomed tomountaineering, would make nothing of it; and, from what Isabel has toldme of him, I gather he was that sort of man. But on that particularafternoon something must have happened. Perhaps his happiness hadunsteadied him a bit, for they were absolutely happy together. Or it mayhave been the heat. Anyhow he fell, he must have fallen. And no oneever knew any more than that."

  "How dreadful!" Dinah whispered again. "And she was left--all alone?"

  "Quite alone except for the natives, and they didn't find her till theday after. She was pacing up and down the ledge then, up and down, up anddown eternally, and she refused--flatly refused--to leave it till heshould come back. She had spent the whole night there alone, waiting,getting more and more distraught, and they could do nothing with her.They were afraid of her. Never from that day to this has she admitted fora moment that he must have been killed, though in her heart she knows it,poor girl, just as she knew it from the very beginning."

  "But what happened?" breathed Dinah. "What did they do? They couldn'tleave her there."

  "They didn't know what to do. The _shikari_ was the only one with anyideas among them, and he wasn't especially brilliant. But after anotherday and night he hit on the notion of sending one of the coolies backwith the news while he and the other men waited and watched. They kepther supplied with food. She must have eaten almost mechanically. But shenever left that ledge. And yet--and yet--she was kept from taking the onestep that would have ended it all. I sometimes wonder if it wouldn'thave been better--more merciful--" He broke off.

  "Perhaps God was watching her," murmured Dinah shyly.

  "Yes, I tell myself that. But even so, I can't help wondering sometimes."Scott's voice was very sad. "She was left so terribly desolate," he said."Those letters that you saw last night are all she has of him. He hasgone, and taken the mainspring of her life with him. I hate to think ofwhat followed. They sent up a doctor from the nearest station, and shewas taken away,--taken by force. When I got to her three weeks later, shewas mad, raving mad, with brain fever. I had the old nurse Biddy with me.We nursed her between us. We brought her back to what she is now. Someday, please God, we shall get her quite back again; but whether it willbe for her happiness He only knows."

  Scott ceased to speak. His brows were drawn as the brows of a man inpain.

  Dinah's eyes were full of tears. "Oh, thank you for telling me! Thankyou!" she murmured. "I do hope you will get her quite back, as you say."

  He looked at her, saw her tears, and put out a gentle hand that restedfor a moment upon her arm. "I am afraid I have made you unhappy. Forgiveme! You are so sympathetic, and I have taken advantage of it. I think weshall get her back. She is coming very, very gradually. She has neverbefore taken such an interest in anyone as she took in you last night.She was talking of you again this morning. She has taken a fancy to you.I hope you don't mind."

  "Mind!" Dinah choked a little and smiled a quivering smile. "I amproud--very proud. I only wish I deserved it. What
--what made you bringher here?"

  "That was my brother's idea. Since we brought her home she has never beenaway, except once on the yacht; and then she was so miserable that wewere afraid to keep her there. But he thought a thorough change--mountainair--might do her good. The doctor was not against it. So we came."

  "And do you never leave her?" questioned Dinah.

  "Practically never. Ever since that awful time in India she has been verydependent upon me. Biddy of course is quite indispensable to her. And Iam nearly so."

  "You have given yourself up to her in fact?" Quick admiration was inDinah's tone.

  He smiled. "It didn't mean so much to me as it would have meant to somemen, Miss Bathurst,--as it would have meant to Eustace, for instance. I'mnot much of a man. To give up my college career and settle down at homewasn't such a great wrench. I'm not especially clever. I act as mybrother's secretary, and we find it answers very well. He is a rich man,and there is a good deal of business in connection with the estate, andso on. I am a poor man. By my father's will nearly everything was left tohim and to Isabel. I was something of an offence to him, being the causeof my mother's death and misshapen into the bargain."

  "What a wicked shame!" broke from Dinah.

  "No, no! Some people are like that. They are made so. I don't feel in theleast bitter about it. He left me enough to live upon, though as a matterof fact neither he nor anyone else expected me to grow up at the timethat will was made. It was solely due to Biddy's devotion, I believe,that I managed to do so." He uttered his quiet laugh. "I am talkingrather much about myself. It's kind of you not to be bored."

  "Bored!" echoed Dinah, with shining eyes. "I think you are simplywonderful. I hope--I hope Sir Eustace realizes it."

  "I hope he does," agreed Scott with a twinkle. "He has ampleopportunities for doing so. Ah, there he is! He is actually skatingalone. What has become of the beautiful Miss de Vigne, I wonder."

  They walked on, nearing the rink. "I'm not going to be horrid about herany more," said Dinah suddenly. "You must have thought me a perfectlittle cat. And so I was!"

  "Oh, please!" protested Scott. "I didn't!"

  She laughed. "That just shows how kind you are. It doesn't make me feelthe least bit better. I was a cat. There! Oh, your brother is callingyou. I think I'll go."

  She blushed very deeply and quickened her steps. Sir Eustace had come tothe edge of the rink.

  "Stumpy!" he called. "Stumpy!"

  "How dare he call you that?" said Dinah. "I can't think how you can putup with it."

  Scott raised his shoulders slightly, philosophically. "Doesn't the capfit?" he said.

  "Not a bit," Dinah declared with emphasis. "I have another name for youthat suits you far better."

  "Oh! What is that?" he looked at her with smiling curiosity.

  Dinah's blush deepened from carmine to crimson. "I call you--Mr.Greatheart," she said, her voice very low. "Because you help everybody."

  A gleam of surprise crossed his face. He flushed also; but she saw thatthough embarrassed, he was not displeased.

  He put a hand to his cap. "Thank you, Miss Bathurst," he said simply, andturned without further words to answer his brother's summons.

  Dinah walked quickly on. That stroll with Scott had quite lifted her outof her depression.