CHAPTER XIX
THE CUP OF BITTERNESS
It was growing late on that same evening that Scott came through thehotel vestibule after a rehearsal of the concert which was to take placethat evening and at which he had undertaken to play the accompaniments.He glanced about him as he came as though in search of someone, andfinally passed on to the smoking-room. His eye were heavy and his faceworn, but there was an air of resolution about him that gave purpose tohis movements.
In the smoking-room several men were congregated, and in a corner of itsat Sir Eustace, writing a letter. Scott came straight to him, and bentover him a hand on the back of his chair.
"Can I have a word with you?" he asked in a low voice.
Sir Eustace did not look round or cease to write. "Presently," he said.
Scott drew back and sat down near him. He did not smoke or take up apaper. His attitude was one of quiet vigilance.
Minutes passed. Sir Eustace continued his task exactly as if he were notthere. Now and then he paused to flick the ash from his cigarette, but hedid not turn his head. The dressing-gong boomed through the hotel, but hepaid no attention to it. One after another the men in the room got up andsauntered away, but Scott remained motionless, awaiting his brother'spleasure.
Sir Eustace finished his letter, and pulled another sheet of papertowards him. Scott made no sign of impatience.
Sir Eustace began to write again, paused, wrote a few more words, thensuddenly turned in his chair. They were alone.
"Oh, what the devil is it?" he said irritably. "I haven't any time towaste over you. What do you want?"
Scott stood up. "It's all right, old chap," he said gently. "I'm going. Ionly came in to tell you I was sorry for all the beastly things I said toyou last night--this morning, rather. I lost my temper which was fairlylow of me, considering you had been up all night and I hadn't."
He paused. Eustace was looking up at him from under frowning brows, hisblue eyes piercing and merciless.
"It's all very fine, Stumpy," he said, after a moment. "Some people thinkthat an apology more than atones for the offence. I don't."
"Neither do I," said Scott quietly. "But it's better than nothing, isn'tit?" His eyes met his brother's very steadily and openly. His attitudewas unflinching.
"It depends," Eustace rejoined curtly. "It is if you mean it. If youdon't, it's not worth--that," with a snap of the fingers.
"I do mean it," said Scott, flushing.
"You do?" Eustace looked at him still more searchingly.
"I always mean what I say," Scott returned with deliberation.
"And you meant what you said this morning?" Eustace pounced without mercyupon the weak spot.
But the armour was proof. Scott remained steadfast. "I meant it--yes. ButI might have put it in a different form. I lost my temper. I am sorry."
Eustace continued to regard him with a straight, unsparing scrutiny. "Andyou consider that to be the sort of apology I can accept?" he asked,after a moment.
"I think you might accept it, old chap," Scott made pacific rejoinder.
Eustace turned back to the table, and began to put his papers together."I might do many things," he observed, "which, not being a weak-kneedfool, I don't. If you really wish to make your peace with me, you hadbetter do your best to make amends--to pull with me and not against me.For I warn you, Stumpy, you went too far last night. And it is not thefirst time."
He paused, as if he expected a disclaimer.
Scott waited a second or two; then with a very winning movement he bentand laid his arm across his brother's shoulders. "Try and bear with me,dear chap!" he said.
His voice was not wholly steady. There was entreaty in his action.
Eustace made a sharp gesture of surprise, but he did not repel him. Therefell a brief silence between them; then Scott's hand came gently down andclosed upon his brother's.
"Life isn't so confoundedly easy at the best of times," he said, speakingalmost under his breath. "I'm generally philosopher enough to take it asit comes. But just lately--" he broke off. "Let it be _pax,_ Eustace!" heurged in a whisper.
Eustace's hand remained for a moment or two stiffly unresponsive; thenvery suddenly it closed and held.
"What's the matter with you?" he said gruffly.
"Oh, I'm a fool, that's all," Scott answered, and uttered a shaky laugh."Never mind! Forget it like a dear fellow! God knows I don't want to pullagainst you; but, old chap, we must go slow."
It was the conclusion that events had forced upon Eustace himself duringthe night, but he chafed against acknowledging it. "There's no sense indrifting on in the same old hopeless way for ever," he said. "We have gotto make a stand; and it's now or never."
"I know. But we must have patience a bit longer. There is a changecoming. I am certain of it. But--last night has thrown her back." Scottspoke with melancholy conviction.
"You gave her the draught?" Eustace asked sharply.
"I gave her a sedative only; but it took no effect. In the middle of themorning she was still in the same unsatisfactory state, and I gave her asecond sedative. After that she fell asleep, but it was not a very easysleep for a long time. This afternoon I saw Biddy for a moment, and shetold me she seemed much more comfortable. The poor old thing looked tiredout, and I told her to get a rest herself. She said she would lie down inthe room. If it hadn't been for this concert business, I would haverelieved her. But they couldn't muster anyone to take my place. I am justgoing up now to see how she is getting on."
Scott straightened himself slowly, with a movement that was unconsciouslyvery weary. Eustace gave him a keen glance.
"You're wearing yourself out over her, Stumpy," he said.
"Oh, rot!" Scott smiled upon him, a light that was boyishly affectionatein his eyes. "I'm much tougher than I look. Thanks for being decent tome, old chap! I don't deserve it. If there are any more letters to bewritten, bring them along, and I'll attend to them to-night after theconcert."
"No. Not this lot. I shall attend to them myself." Eustace got up, andpassed a hand through his arm. "You are working too hard and sleeping toolittle. I'm going to take you in hand and put a stop to it."
Scott laughed. "No, no! Thanks all the same, I'm better left alone. Areyou coming to the show to-night? The beautiful Miss de Vigne is going tosing."
Eustace looked supercilious. "Is there anything that young lady can't do,I wonder? Her accomplishments are legion. She told me yesterday that shecould play the guitar. She can also recite, play bridge, and take cricketscores. She is a scratch golf-player, plays a good game of tennis, ridesto hounds, and visits the poor. And that is by no means a complete list.I don't wonder that she gives the little brown girl indigestion. Herperfection is almost nauseating at times."
Scott laughed again. It was a relief to have diverted his brother'sattention from more personal subjects. "She ought to suit you ratherwell," he observed. "You are something of the perfect knight yourself. Iheard a lady exclaim only yesterday when you started off together on thatski-ing expedition, 'What a positively divine couple! Apollo andAphrodite!' I think it was the parson's wife. You couldn't expect her toknow much about heathen theology."
"Don't make me sick if you don't mind!" said Sir Eustace. "Look here, myfriend! We shall be late if we don't go. You can't spend long withIsabel, if you are to turn up in time for this precious concert. Hullo!What's the matter?"
The door of the smoking-room had burst suddenly open, and Colonel deVigne, very red in the face and as agitated as his pomposity would allow,stood glaring at them.
"So you are here!" he exclaimed, his tone an odd blend of relief andanxiety.
"Do you mean me?" said Sir Eustace, with a touch of haughtiness.
"Yes, sir, you! I was looking for you," explained the Colonel, pullinghimself together. "I thought perhaps you might be able to give me someidea as to the whereabouts of my young charge, Miss Bathurst. She ismissing."
Sir Eustace raised his black brows. "What should I know about he
rwhereabouts?" he said.
Scott broke in quickly. "I saw her in the verandah this afternoon withyour daughter."
"I know. She was there." The Colonel spoke with brevity. "Rose left herthere talking to your sister. No one seems to have seen her since. Ithought she might have been with Sir Eustace. I see I was mistaken. Iapologize. But where the devil can she be?"
Sir Eustace raised his shoulders. "She was certainly not talking to mysister," he remarked. "She has kept her room to-day. Miss Bathurst isprobably in her own room dressing for dinner."
"That's just where she isn't!" exploded the Colonel. "I missed her attea-time but thought she must be out. Now her brother tells me that hehas been all over the place and can't find her. I suppose she can't beupstairs with your sister?" He turned to Scott.
"I'll go and see," Scott said. "She may be--though I doubt it. My sisterwas not so well, and so stayed in bed to-day."
He moved towards the stairs with the words; but ere he reached them therecame the sound of a sudden commotion on the corridor above, and a wailingvoice made itself heard.
"Miss Isabel! Miss Isabel! Wherever are you, mavourneen? Ah, what'll I doat all? Miss Isabel's gone!"
Old Biddy in her huge white apron and mob cap appeared at the top of thestaircase and came hobbling down with skinny hands extended.
"Ah, Master Scott--Master Scott--may the saints help us! She's gone!She's gone! And meself sleeping like a hog the whole afternoon through!I'll never forgive meself, Master Scott,--never, never! Oh, what'll I do?I pray the Almighty will take my life before any harm comes to her!"
She reached Scott at the foot of the stairs and caught his handhysterically between her own.
Sir Eustace strode forward, white to the lips. "Stop your clatter, woman,and answer me! How did Miss Isabel get away? Is she dressed?"
The old woman cowered back from the blazing wrath in his eyes. "Yes, yourhonour! No, your honour! I mean--Yes, your honour!" she stammered, stillclinging pathetically to Scott. "I was asleep, ye see. I never knew--Inever knew!"
"How long did you sleep?" demanded Sir Eustace.
"And how am I to tell at all?" wailed Biddy. "It didn't seem like fiveminutes, and I opened me eyes, and she was all quiet in the dark. AndI said to meself, 'I won't disturb the dear lamb,' and I crept into meroom and tidied meself, and made a cup o' tay. And still she kept soquiet; so I drank me tay and did a bit of work. And then--just a minuteago it was--I crept in and went to her thinking it was time she wokeup,--and--and--and she wasn't there, your honour. The bed was laid up,and she was gone! Oh, what'll I do at all? What'll I do?" She burst intowild sobs, and hid her face in her apron.
Two or three people were standing about in the vestibule. They looked atthe agitated group with interest, and in a moment a young man who hadjust entered came up to Scott.
"I believe I saw your sister in the verandah this afternoon," he said.
"That's just what Rose said," broke in the Colonel. "And you wouldn'tbelieve me. She came out, and Dinah went to speak to her. And now the twoof them are missing. It's obvious. They must have gone off togethersomewhere."
"Not up the mountain. I hope," the young man said.
"That is probably where they have gone," Scott said, speaking for thefirst time. He was patting Biddy's shoulder with compassionate kindness."Why do you say that?"
"It's just begun to snow," the other answered. "And the mist up themountain path is thick."
"Damnation!" exclaimed Sir Eustace furiously. "And she may have been gonefor hours!"
"Miss Bathurst was with her," said Scott. "She would keep her head. I amcertain of that." He turned to the Colonel who stood fuming by. "Hadn'twe better organize a search-party sir? I am afraid that there is not muchdoubt that they have gone up the mountain. My sister, you know--" heflushed a little--"my sister is not altogether responsible for heractions. She would not realize the danger."
"But surely Dinah wouldn't be such a little fool as to go too!" burstforth the Colonel. "She's sane enough, when she isn't larking about withother fools." He glared at Sir Eustace. "And how the devil are we to knowwhere to look, I'd like to know? We can't hunt all over the Alps."
"There may be some dogs in the village," Scott said. "There is certainlya guide. I will go down at once and see what I can find."
"No, no, Stumpy! Not you!" Sharply Sir Eustace intervened. "I won't haveyou go. It's not your job, and you are not fit for it." He laid aperemptory hand upon his brother's shoulder. "That's understood, is it?You will not leave the hotel."
He spoke with stern insistence, looking Scott straight in the eyes; andafter a moment or two Scott yielded the point.
"All right, old chap! I'm not much good, I know. But for heaven's sake,lose no time."
"No time will be lost." Sir Eustace turned round upon the Colonel. "Wecan't have any but young men on this job," he said. "See if you canmuster two or three to go with me, will you? A doctor if possible! And weshall want blankets and restoratives and lanterns. Stumpy, you can see tothat. Yes, and send for a guide too though he won't be much help in athick mist. And take that wailing woman away! Have everything ready forus when we come back! They can't have gone very far. Isabel hasn't thestrength. I shall be ready immediately."
He turned to the stairs and went up them in great leaps, leaving thelittle group below to carry out his orders.
There was a momentary inaction after his departure, then Scott limpedacross to the door and opened it. Thick darkness met him, the clammydarkness of fog, and the faint, faint rustle of falling snow.
He closed the door and turned back, meeting the Colonel's eyes, "It'shard to stay behind, sir," he said.
The Colonel nodded. He liked Scott. "Yes, infernally hard. But we'll doall we can. Will you find the doctor and get the necessaries together?I'll see to the rest."
"Very good, sir; I will." Scott went to the old woman who still sobbedpiteously into her apron. "Come along, Biddy! There's plenty to be done.Miss Isabel's room must be quite ready for her when she comes back, andMiss Bathurst's too. We shall want boiling water--lots of it. That's yourjob. Come along!"
He urged her gently to the stairs, and went up with her, holding her arm.
At the top she stopped and gave him an anguished look. "Ah, Master Scottdarlint, will the Almighty be merciful? Will He bring her safe backagain?"
He drew her gently on. "That's another thing you can do, Biddy," he said."Ask Him!"
And before his look Biddy commanded herself and grew calmer. "Faith,Master Scott," she said, "if it isn't yourself that's taught me thegreatest lesson of all!"
A very compassionate smile shone in Scott's eyes as he passed on and lefther. "Poor old Biddy," he murmured, as he went. "It's easy to preach tosuch as you. But, O God, there's no denying it's bitter work for thosewho stay behind!"
He knew that he and Biddy were destined to drink that cup of bitternessto the dregs ere the night passed.
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