Greatheart

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  CONSOLATION

  Of the long hours that followed that wonderful dawning Dinah never hadany very distinct recollection. Even Scott seemed to forget her for awhile, and it was old Biddy who presently found her curled up on thewindow-seat with her head upon the sill asleep--Biddy with her eyes verybright and alert, albeit deeply rimmed with red.

  She came to the childish, drooping figure, murmuring tender words. Sheput wiry arms about her and lifted her to her feet.

  "There! Come to your own room and rest, my lamb!" she said. "Old Biddy'lltake care of ye, aroon."

  Dinah submitted with the vague docility of a brain but half-awakened. Tobe cared for and petted by Biddy was no new thing in her experience. Sheeven felt as if the old crystal Alpine days had returned, as Biddyundressed her and presently tucked her into bed. Later, still insemi-consciousness, she drank the hot milk that the old woman broughther, and then sank into a deep, deep sleep.

  She awakened from that sleep with a sense of well-being such as she hadnever known before, a feeling of complete security and rest. The housewas very quiet, and through the curtained window there came to her thesoft, slumberous splash of the waves.

  She lay very still, listening to the soothing murmur, gradually focusingher mind again after its long oblivion. The memory of the previous nightand of the coming of the dawn came back to her, and with it the thoughtof Isabel; but without grief and without regret. They had left her on themountain-top, and she knew that all must be well.

  A great peace seemed to have fallen like a veil upon the whole house.Surely no one could be mourning over that glad release! She saw again theflashing of those free wings in the dawn-light, and her heart thrilledafresh. She remembered too the close, strong clasp of Scott's hand ashe had watched with her.

  Where was Scott now? The wonder darted suddenly through her brain, andwith it, swift as a flying cloud-shadow, came the want of him, thelonging for the quiet voice, the quivering delight of his near presence.She half-raised herself, and then, caught by another thought, sank downagain to hide her burning face in the pillow. It would be a littledifficult to meet him again. On the old easy terms of friendship itcould not be, and they had hardly begun to be lovers yet. He--had noteven--kissed her!

  Another thought came to her--of an even more disturbing nature. Save forold Biddy and the nurse, she was alone with the two brothers now. Wouldthey--would they insist upon sending her home until--until Scott wasready to come and take her away? Oh, surely--surely Scott would never askthat of her!

  Nevertheless the thought tormented her. She did not see any way out ofthe difficulty, and she was terribly afraid that Scott would be equallyat a loss.

  "I don't think I could bear it," she whispered to herself. "And yet--ifhe says so--if he says so--I suppose I must. I couldn't refuse--if hesaid so."

  The soft opening of the door recalled her to the immediate present. Shesaw old Biddy's face with its watchful, guardian look peep stealthily inupon her.

  "Ah, mavourneen!" she whispered fondly, coming forward. "And is it awakeye are? I've peeped round at ye this five times, and ye were sleepinglike a new-born babe. Lie still, darlint, while I fetch ye a cup o' taythen!"

  She was gone with the words, but in a very little she was back again withher own especial brew. She set her tray down by Dinah's side, but Dinahdid not even look at it. She raised herself instead, and threw warm armsaround the old woman's neck. "Oh, Biddy," she said, "Biddy, darling, Ican't think what ever I'd do without you!"

  Biddy uttered a sharp sob, and gathered her close. But in a moment,half-angrily, "And what is it that I'd be crying for at all?" she said."Isn't my dear Miss Isabel safer with the Almighty than ever she was withme? Isn't she gone to the blessed saints in Paradise? And would I haveher back? No, no! I'm not that selfish, Miss Dinah. I'm an old womanmoreover, and be the same token me own time can't be so far off now."

  But Dinah clung faster to her. "Please, Biddy, please--don't talk likethat! I want you," she said.

  "Ah, bless the dear lamb!" said Biddy, and tenderly kissed the upturned,pleading face. "Miss Isabel said ye would now. But when ye've got MasterScott to take care of ye, it's not old Biddy that ye'll be wanting anylonger."

  "I shall," Dinah vowed. "I shall. I shall always want my Biddy."

  "And may the Lord Almighty bless ye for the word!" said Biddy.

  When Dinah was dressed, a great shyness fell upon her, born partly of thestill mystery of the presence of Death that wrapped the little house.She stood by the window of her room, looking forth, irresolute, over theevening sea.

  The blinds were drawn only in the room of Death, for Scott had sodecreed, and the air blew in sweet and fresh from the rippling water.

  After a few minutes, Biddy came softly up behind her. "And is it himselfye're looking for, mavourneen?" she murmured at Dinah's shoulder.

  Dinah started a little and flushed. She wondered if Biddy knew all oronly guessed. "I don't know--what to do," she said rather confusedly.

  Biddy gave her a quick, wise look. "Will I tell ye a secret, Miss Dinahdear?" she whispered.

  Dinah looked at her. The old woman's face was full of shrewdunderstanding. "Yes, tell me!" she said somewhat breathlessly.

  Biddy's brown hand grasped her arm. "Master Scott went to town thismorning," she said. "He'll be back any minute now. Sir Eustace isdownstairs. He wants to see ye--to tell ye something--before Master Scottgets back."

  "Oh, what--what?" gasped Dinah.

  "There, now, there! Don't ye be afraid!" said Biddy, her beady eyessoftening. "It's something ye'll like. Master Scott--he's not thegentleman to make ye do anything ye don't want to do. Don't ye trust him,Miss Dinah?"

  "Of course--of course," Dinah said, with trembling lips.

  "Then ye've nothing to be afraid of," said Biddy wisely. "Faith, it'sonly the marriage-licence he's been to fetch!"

  "Oh--Biddy!" Dinah wheeled from the window, with both her hands over herheart.

  Biddy nodded with grave triumph. "It was Sir Eustace made him go. MasterScott--he didn't think it would be dacent, not at first. But, as SirEustace said, there's more ways than one of being ondacent, and after allit was the dearest wish of Miss Isabel's heart. 'Don't you be aconventional fool!' he said. And for once I agreed with him," said Biddynaively, "though I think he needn't have used bad language over it."

  "Oh--Biddy!" Dinah said again, and then very oddly she began to smile,and the tension went out of her attitude. She kissed the wrinkled cheek,and turned. "I think perhaps I will go down and speak to Sir Eustace,"she said.

  She went quickly, aware that if she suffered herself to pause, thatoverpowering shyness would seize upon her again.

  Guided by the scent of cigarette-smoke, she entered the dining-room. SirEustace was seated at a writing-table near the window. He looked upswiftly at her entrance.

  "Awake at last!" he said, and would have risen with the words, but shereached him first and checked him.

  "Eustace! Oh, Eustace!" she said. "I--I--Biddy has just told me--"

  He frowned, as she stopped in confusion, steadying herself ratherpiteously against his shoulder. But in a moment, seeing her agitation, heput a kindly arm around her.

  "Biddy is an old fool--always was. Don't take any notice of her! What aferment you're in, child! What's the matter? There, sit down!"

  He drew her down on to the arm of his chair, and she leaned against him,striving for self-control.

  "You--you are so--so much too good," she murmured.

  He smiled rather grimly. "No one ever accused me of that before! Was thatthe staggering piece of information that Biddy has imparted to you?"

  "No," she said, a fleeting smile upon her awn face. "It was--itwas--about Scott. It took my breath away,--that's all."

  "That all?" said Eustace with a faintly wry lift of one eyebrow.

  She slipped a shy arm around his neck. "Eustace, do you--do you thinkI--ought to let Scott marry me?"

  "I'm quite sure you'
ll break his heart if you don't," responded Eustace.

  "Oh, I couldn't do that!" she said quickly.

  "No. I shouldn't if I were you. It isn't a very amusing game for anyoneconcerned." Sir Eustace took up his pen with his free hand. "He's rathera good chap, you know," he said, "beastly good sometimes. He'll take alittle living up to. But you'll manage that, I daresay. When he told mehow things stood between you, I saw directly that there was only onething to be done, and I made him do it. The idea is to get you marriedbefore the nurse goes, and she is off to-morrow." He paused, looking ather critically, and again half-cynically, half-sadly, smiled. "You tookthat well," he said. "If it had been to me, you'd have jumped sky-high.You're a wise little creature, Dinah. You've chosen the best man, andyou'll never be sorry. I congratulate you on your choice."

  He turned his face fully to her, and she stooped swiftly and kissed him."I'm--dreadfully sorry I--treated you so badly first," she whispered.

  "You needn't be," he said. "It did me good. You showed me myself from apoint of view that I had never taken before. You taught me to be human. Itold Isabel so. She--poor girl--" he stopped a second, and she saw thatmomentarily he was moved; but he continued almost at once--"she wasgrateful to you too," he said. "You removed the outer crust at a singlestroke--just in time to prevent atrophy. Of course," he glanced down atthe letter under his hand, "it was a more or less painful process, but itmay comfort you to know that it didn't go quite so deep with me as Ithought it had at the time. There's no sense in crying over spilt milkanyhow. I never was that sort of ass. You may--or may not--be pleased tohear that I am already well on the way to consolation." He lifted hiseyes suddenly with an expression in them that completely baffled her. Itwas almost as if he had detached himself for the moment from allparticipation in his own doings, contemplating them with a half-patheticirony. "Shall I tell you what I was doing when you came in just now?" hesaid. "I was writing to the girl you nearly sacrificed your happiness tocut out."

  "Rose de Vigne?" she said quickly.

  He nodded. "Yes, Rose de Vigne" He paused for a second, just a second;then: "The girl I am going to marry," he said quietly.

  "Oh, Eustace!" There was no mistaking the gladness in Dinah's tone. "I ampleased!" she said earnestly. "I know you will be happy together. Youwere simply made for each other."

  He smiled, still in that strange, half-rueful fashion. "I am doing thebest I can under the circumstances. It is kind of you to be pleased. Butnow once more to your affairs. They are more pressing than mine just now.It may interest you to know that Scott--although under Isabel's will heis made absolutely independent of me--is willing to live at the DowerHouse, if that arrangement meets with your approval."

  "Of course--I shall love it," Dinah said.

  "I am glad of that, for it will be a great help to me to have him there.You will be able to have Billy to stay with you in the holidays and roamabout as you like. Scott is making all sorts of plans. I am going tosettle the place on him as a wedding-present."

  "Oh, Eustace! How kind! What a lovely gift!"

  Sir Eustace smiled at her. "I am giving him more than that, Dinah. I amgiving him his wife and--the wedding-ring." The irony was uppermostagain, but it held no sting. "It will fit no other hand but yours, and itwill serve to keep you in constant remembrance of your good luck. I canhear him coming up the path. Aren't you going to meet him?"

  She sprang up like a startled fawn. "Oh, I can't--I can't meet him yet,"she said desperately.

  There was a curious glint in Eustace's eyes as he watched her, a flash ofmockery that came and went.

  "What?" he said. "Do you want me to help you to run away from him now?"

  She looked at him quickly, and in a moment her hesitation was gone.

  "Oh, no!" she said. "No!" and with a little breathless sound that mighthave been a tremor of laughter, she fled away from him out into theevening sunshine to meet her lover.

  CHAPTER XXIX

  THE SEVENTH HEAVEN

  They were married in the early morning at the little old church that hadnestled for centuries among its trees in the village on the cliff. Theabsolute simplicity of the service deprived it of all terrors for Dinah.Standing with Scott in the glow of sunlight that smote full upon themthrough the mellow east window, she could not feel afraid. The wholeworld was so bright, so full of joy.

  "Do you think Isabel can see us now?" she whispered to him, as they rosetogether from kneeling before the altar.

  He did not answer her in words, but his pale eyes were shining with thatsteadfast light of the spirit which she had come to know. She wished shecould have knelt there by his side a little longer. They seemed to be sonear to the Gates of Heaven.

  But they were not alone, and they could not linger. Sir Eustace who hadgiven her away, Biddy who had tenderly supported her, the nurse whocarried the fragrant bouquet of honeysuckle--the bond of love--which shehad herself gathered for the bride, all were waiting to draw them backto earth again; and with Scott's hand clasping hers she turnedregretfully and left the holy place.

  Later, when Sir Eustace kissed her with the careless observation that healways kissed a bride, she had a moment of burning shyness, and she wouldgladly have hidden her face. But Scott did not kiss her. He had notoffered to do so since that wonderful moment when he had first held heragainst his heart. He had not attempted to make love to her, and she hadnot felt the need of it. Grave and practical, he had laid his plansbefore her, and with the supreme confidence that he had always inspiredin her she had acquiesced to all.

  At his desire she had refrained from entering Isabel's death-chamber. Athis desire she was to leave that day for the Dower House that was to betheir home. Biddy would accompany her thither. The place was ready foroccupation, for by Isabel's wish the work had gone on, though both sheand Scott had known that they would never share a home there. It almostseemed as if she had foreseen the fulfilment of her earnest wish. Andhere Dinah was to await her husband.

  "I won't come to you till the funeral is over," he said to her. "I mustbe with Eustace. You won't be unhappy?"

  No, she would not be unhappy. She had never been so near to Death before,but she was neither frightened nor dismayed. She stood in the shadowindeed, but she looked forth from it over a world of such sunshine asfilled her heart with quivering gladness.

  He did not want her to attend the funeral at Willowmount, would not, ifhe could help it, suffer her so much as to see the trappings of woe; andin this Dinah acquiesced also, comprehending fully the motive thatunderlay his wish. She knew that the earthly formalities, though theyhad to be faced, were to Scott something of the nature of a grim farce inwhich, while he could not escape it himself, he was determined that sheshould take no part. He was not mourning for Isabel. He would not pretendto mourn. Her death was to him but as the opening wide of a prison-doorto one who had long lain captive, pining for liberty. He would follow thepoor worn body to its grave rather with thanksgiving than with grief. Andrealizing so well that this was his inevitable feeling, even as in asmaller degree it had become her own, Dinah agreed without demur to hiswish to spare her all the jarring details, the travesty of mourning, thatcould not fail to strike a false chord in her soul.

  It was well for her that she had Biddy to think of. The old woman waspathetically eager to serve her. She had in fact attached herself toDinah in a fashion that went to her heart. It was Miss Isabel's wish thatshe should take care of her, she told her tremulously, and Dinah, knewthat it had been equally her friend's wish that she should care forBiddy.

  And Biddy was very good. Probably in accordance with Scott's desire, shemade a great effort to throw off all gloom, and undoubtedly her own senseof loss and bereavement was greatly lessened by the consciousness ofDinah's need of her.

  "Time enough to weep later," she told herself, as she lay down in theroom adjoining Dinah's on that first night in the Dower House. "She'llnot be wanting old Biddy when Master Scott comes to her."

  The two days that followed were very fully
occupied. There were curtainsand pictures to hang, furniture to be arranged, and many things to beunpacked. Dinah went to the work with zest. She did not know when Scottwould come. But it would be soon, she knew it would be soon; and shethrilled to the thought. Everything must be ready for him. She wanted himto feel that it was home from the moment he crossed the threshold.

  So, with Biddy's help, she went about her preparations, enlisting the oldnurse's sympathies till at last she succeeded in arousing her enthusiasmalso. There was certainly no time to weep.

  That second day after her arrival was the day of the funeral. It wasa beautiful still day of summer, and in the afternoon Dinah and Biddysat in the garden overlooking the winding river, and read the BurialService together. It was Dinah's suggestion, somewhat shyly proffered,and--though she knew it not--from that time forward Biddy's heart wasat her feet. Whatever tears there might be yet to shed had lost allbitterness from that hour.

  "I'll never be lonely so long as there's you to love, Miss Dinahdarlint," Biddy murmured, when the young arms closed about her neck for amoment ere they went back to their work. "Ye've warmed and comforted meall through."

  It was late in the evening when dusk was falling that there came thesound of an uneven tread on the gravel path before the Dower House.

  Dinah was the first to hear it. Dinah wearing one of Biddy's voluminousaprons and mounted on a pair of steps, arranging china on a high shelfthat ran round the old square hall.

  The front-door was open, and the birds were singing in the gloaming. Shehad been listening to them while she worked, when suddenly this new soundcame. Her heart gave a wild leap and stood still. She had not expectedhim to-night.

  She sat down on the top of the steps with a swift, indescribable rush offeeling that seemed to deprive her of all her strength. She could nothave said for the moment if she were glad or dismayed at the sound ofthat quiet footfall. But she was quite powerless to go and meet him. Agreat wave of shyness engulfed her, possessing her, overwhelming her.

  He entered. He came straight to her. She wondered afterwards what he musthave thought of her, sitting there on her perch in burning embarrassmentwith no word or sign of welcome. But whatever he thought, he dealt withthe situation with unerring instinct.

  He mounted a couple of steps with hands stretched up to hers. "Why, myDinah!" he said. "How busy you are! Let me help!"

  Her heart throbbed on again, fast and hard. But still for a few secondsshe could not speak. She stooped with a soft endearing sound and laid herface upon the hands that had clasped her own.

  He suffered her for a moment or two in silence; she thought his handstrembled slightly. Then: "Let's get finished, little wife!" he saidgently. "Isn't the day's work nearly over? Can't we take off oursandals--and rest?"

  "I have just done," she said, finding her voice. "Biddy and I have gotthrough such a lot. Oh, Scott," as the light fell upon his face, "howtired you look!"

  "It has been rather a tiring day," he made answer. "I didn't think Icould get over here to-night; but Eustace insisted."

  "How good of him!" she said, with quick gratitude.

  "Yes, he is good," Scott's voice was tender. "I couldn't sleep lastnight, and he came into my room, and we had a long talk. He is one of thebest, Dinah; one of the best. I'm afraid you've made--rather a poorexchange."

  Something in his tone banished the last of Dinah's shyness. She gave himher basket of china and prepared to descend. He stretched up a courteoushand to help her, but she would have none of it. "You are never to saythat--or anything like it--again," she said severely. "If--if you weren'tso dreadfully tired, I believe I'd be really angry. As it is--" shereached the ground and stood there before him, a small, purposeful figureclad in the great apron that wrapped about her like a garment.

  "As it is--" he suggested meekly, setting the basket on a chair andturning back to face her.

  Two quivering hands came out to him in the gloaming, and fastenedresolutely on his coat. "Oh, Greatheart," whispered a tremulous voice, "Ilove you so much--so much--I want--to kiss you!"

  "My darling," answered Greatheart softly, "you can't want it--more than Ido."

  His arms closed about her; he drew her to his breast.

  * * * * *

  "Arrah thin, what would I cry for at all?" said Biddy, as she laydown that night. "I've got herself and Master Scott to care for, andmaybe--some day--the Almighty will remember old Biddy for good, and giveanother little one into her care."

  * * * * *

  "And you left them quite happy?" smiled Rose to her lover two days later."It's a very suitable arrangement, isn't it? I always used to think thatDinah and your brother should make a match."

  "Oh, quite suitable," agreed Eustace lazily, an odd blend of irony andsatisfaction in his tone. "They will be happy enough. Stumpy, you know,is just the sort of chivalrous ass that a child like Dinah canappreciate. They'll probably live in the seventh heaven, and fancy thatno one else has ever been within a million miles of it."

  "Poor little Dinah!" murmured Rose. "She will never know what she hasmissed."

  And, "Just as well perhaps," said Sir Eustace, with his faintly cynicalsmile.