CHAPTER XV
THE SAPPHIRE FOR FRIENDSHIP
No girl ever worked harder in preparation for her own wedding than didDinah on the following day.
That she had scarcely slept all night was a fact that no one suspected.Work-a-day Dinah, as her father was wont to call her, was not an objectof great solicitude to any in her home-circle, and for the first time inher life she was thankful that such was the case.
Her mother's hard gipsy eyes watched only for delinquencies, and herrating tongue was actually a relief to Dinah after the dread solitude ofthose long hours. She was like a prisoner awaiting execution, and eventhat harsh companionship was in a measure helpful to her.
The time passed with appalling swiftness. When the luncheon hour arrivedshe was horrified to find that the morning had gone. She could eatnothing, a fact which raised a jeering laugh from her mother and achaffing remonstrance from her father. Billy had gone riding on Rupertand had not returned. Billy always came and went exactly as he pleased.
One or two more presents from friends of her father's had arrived by themidday post. Mrs. Bathurst unpacked them, admiring them with more than atouch of envy, assuring Dinah that she was a very lucky girl, luckierthan she deserved to be; but Dinah, though she acquiesced, had no heartfor presents. She could only see--as she had seen all through thenight--the piteous, marred face of a woman who had passed through such anintensity of suffering as she could only dimly guess at into the dark ofutter despair. She could only hear, whichever way she turned, theclanking of the chains that in so brief a time were to be weldedirrevocably about herself.
Luncheon over, she went up to dress and to finish the packing of the newtrunks which were to accompany her upon her honeymoon. She had not evenyet begun to realize these strange belongings of hers. She could nolonger visualize herself as a bride. She looked upon all the finery asdestined for another, possibly Rose de Vigne, but emphatically not forherself.
The wedding-dress and veil lying in their box, swathed in tissue-paper,had a gossamer unreality about them that even the sense of touch couldnot dispel. No--no! The bride of to-morrow was surely, surely, notherself!
They were to spend the first part of their honeymoon at a littleplace on the Cornish coast, very far from everywhere, as Sir Eustacesaid. She thought of that little place with a vague wonder. It was thestepping-stone between the life she now knew and that new unknown lifethat awaited her. She would go there just Dinah--work-a-day Dinah--herown ordinary self. She would leave a fortnight after, possibly less, atotally different being--a married woman, Lady Studley, part and parcelof Sir Eustace's train, his most intimate belonging, most exclusively hisown.
She trembled afresh as this thought came home to her. Despite hisassurances, marriage seemed to her a terrible thing. It was like parting,not only with the old life, but with herself.
She dressed mechanically, scarcely thinking of her appearance, rousedonly at length from her pre-occupation by the tread of hoofs under herwindow. She leaned forth quickly and discerned Scott on horseback,--atrim, upright figure, very confident in the saddle--and with him Billystill mounted on Rupert and evidently in the highest spirits.
The latter spied her at once and accosted her in his cracked, cheerfulvoice. "Hi, Dinah! Come down! We're going to tea at the Court. Scott willwalk with you, and I'm going to ride his gee."
He rolled off Rupert with the words. Scott looked up at her, faintlysmiling as he lifted his hat. "I hope that plan will suit you," he said."The fact is the padre has been detained and can't get here beforetea-time. So we thought--Eustace thought--you wouldn't mind coming up tothe Court to tea instead of waiting to see him here."
It crossed her mind to wonder why Eustace had not come himself to fetchher, but she was conscious of a deep, unreasoning thankfulness that hehad not. Then, before she could reply, she heard her father's voice inthe porch, inviting Scott to enter.
Scott accepted the invitation, and Dinah turned back into the room toprepare for the walk.
Her hands were trembling so much that they could scarcely serve her. Shewas in a state of violent and uncontrollable agitation, longing onemoment to be gone, and the next desiring desperately to remain where shewas. The thought of facing the crowd at the Court filled her with apositive tumult of apprehension, but breathlessly she kept tellingherself that Scott would be there--Scott would be there. His shelteringpresence would be her protection.
And then, still trembling, still unnerved, she descended to meet him.
He was with her father in the drawing-room. The place was littered withwedding-presents.
As she entered, he came towards her, and in a moment his quiet handclosed upon hers. Her father went out in search of her mother and theywere alone.
"What a collection of beautiful things you have here!" he said.
She looked at him, met his steady eyes, and suddenly some force of speechbroke loose within her; she uttered words wild and passionate, such asshe had never till that moment dreamed of uttering.
"Oh, don't talk of them! Don't think of them! They suffocate me!"
She saw his face change, but she could not have analysed the expressionit took. He was silent for a moment, and in that moment his fingerstightened hard and close upon her hand.
Then, "I have brought you a small offering on my own account," he said inhis courteous, rather tired voice. "May I present it? Or would you ratherI waited a little?"
She felt the tears welling up, swiftly, swiftly, and clasped her throatto stay them. "Of course I would like it," she murmured almostinarticulately. "That--that is different."
He took a small, white packet from his pocket and put it into the hand hehad been holding, without a word.
Dumbly, with quivering fingers, she opened it. There was something oftragedy in the silence, something of despair.
The paper fluttered to the ground, leaving a leather case in her grasp.She glanced up at him.
"Won't you look inside?" he said gently.
She did so, in her eyes those burning tears she could not check. Andthere, gleaming on its bed of white velvet, she saw a wonderful jewel--agreat star-shaped sapphire, deep as the heart of a fathomless pool, edgedwith diamonds that flashed like the sun upon the ripples of its shores.She gazed and gazed in silence. It was the loveliest thing she had everseen.
Scott was watching her, his eyes very still, unchangeably steadfast. "Thesapphire for friendship," he said.
She started as one awaking from a dream. In the passage outside thehalf-open door she heard the sound of her mother's voice approaching.With a swift movement she closed the case and hid it in her dress.
"I can't show it to anyone yet," she said hurriedly.
Her tone appealed. He answered her immediately. "It is for you and no oneelse."
His voice held nought but kindness, comprehension, comfort.
He turned from her the next moment to meet her mother, and she heard himspeaking in his easy, leisured tones, gaining time for her, making herpath easy, as had ever been his custom.
And again unbidden, unavoidable, there came to her the vision ofGreatheart--Greatheart the valiant--her knight of the golden armour,going before her, strong to defend,--invincible, unafraid, sure by meansof that sureness which is given only to those who draw upon a HigherPower than their own, given only to the serving-men of God.
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