GREATHEART
by
ETHEL M. DELL
Author of the Hundredth Chance, The Lamp in the Desert,
The Swindler, etc.
1918
"NOW MR. GREATHEART WAS A STRONG MAN."
--_The Pilgrims Progress_.
I Dedicate This Book to A. G. C.
Friend of My Heart and to the Memory of All the Happy Days We have Spent
Together.
CONTENTS
PART I
I. The Wanderer
II. The Looker-On
III. The Search
IV. The Magician
V. Apollo
VI. Cinderella
VII. The Broken Spell
VIII. Mr. Greatheart
IX. The Runaway Colt.
X. The House of Bondage
XI. Olympus
XII. The Wine of the Gods
XIII. Friendship in the Desert
XIV. The Purple Empress
XV. The Mountain Crest
XVI. The Second Draught
XVII. The Unknown Force
XVIII. The Escape of the Prisoner
XIX. The Cup of Bitterness
XX. The Vision of Greatheart
XXI. The Return
XXII. The Valley of the Shadow
XXIII. The Way Back
XXIV. The Lights of a City
XXV. The True Gold
XXVI. The Call of Apollo
XXVII. The Golden Maze
XXVIII. The Lesson
XXIX. The Captive
XXX. The Second Summons
PART II
I. Cinderella's Prince
II. Wedding Arrangements
III. Despair
IV. The New Home
V. The Watcher
VI. The Wrong Road
VII. Doubting Castle
VIII. THE VICTORY
IX. THE BURDEN
X. THE HOURS OF DARKNESS
XI. THE NET
XII. THE DIVINE SPARK
XIII. THE BROKEN HEART
XIV. THE WRATH OF THE GODS
XV. THE SAPPHIRE FOR FRIENDSHIP
XVI. THE OPEN DOOR
XVII. THE LION IN THE PATH
XVIII. THE TRUTH
XIX. THE FURNACE
XX. THE COMING OF GREATHEART
XXI. THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION
XXII. SPOKEN IN JEST
XXIII. THE KNIGHT IN DISGUISE
XXIV. THE MOUNTAIN SIDE
XXV. THE TRUSTY FRIEND
XXVI. THE LAST SUMMONS
XXVII. THE MOUNTAIN-TOP
XXVIII. CONSOLATION
XXIX. THE SEVENTH HEAVEN
PART I
CHAPTER I
THE WANDERER.
Biddy Maloney stood at the window of her mistress's bedroom, and surveyed
the world with eyes of stern disapproval. There was nothing of the smart
lady's maid about Biddy. She abominated smart lady's maids. A flyaway
French cap and an apron barely reaching to the knees were to her the very
essence of flighty impropriety. There was just such a creature in
attendance upon Lady Grace de Vigne who occupied the best suite of rooms
in the hotel, and Biddy very strongly resented her existence. In her own
mind she despised her as a shameless hussy wholly devoid of all ideas of
"dacency." Her resentment was partly due to the fact that the indecent
one belonged to the party in possession of the best suite, which they had
occupied some three weeks before Biddy and her party had appeared on the
scene.
It was all Master Scott's fault, of course. He ought to have written to
engage rooms sooner, but then to be sure the decision to migrate to this
winter paradise in the Alps had been a sudden one. That had been Sir
Eustace's fault. He was always so sudden in his ways.
Biddy sighed impatiently. Sir Eustace had always been hard to manage. She
had never really conquered him even in the days when she had made him
stand in the corner and go without sugar in his tea. She well remembered
the shocking occasion on which he had flung sugar and basin together into
the fire so that the others might be made to share his enforced
abstinence. She believed he was equal to committing a similar act of
violence if baulked even now. But he never was baulked. At thirty-five he
reigned supreme in his own world. No one ever crossed him, unless it were
Master Scott, and of course no one could be seriously angry with him,
poor dear young man! He was so gentle and kind. A faint, maternal smile
relaxed Biddy's grim lips. She became aware that the white world below
was a-flood with sunshine.
The snowy mountains that rose against the vivid blue were dream-like in
their beauty. Where the sun shone upon them, their purity was almost too
dazzling to behold. It was a relief to rest the eyes upon the great
patches of pine-woods that clothed some of the slopes.
"I wonder if Miss Isabel will be happy here," mused Biddy.
That to her mind was the only thing on earth that really mattered,
practically the only thing for which she ever troubled her Maker. Her own
wants were all amalgamated in this one great desire of her heart--that
her darling's poor torn spirit should be made happy. She had wholly
ceased to remember that she had ever wanted anything else. It was for
Miss Isabel that she desired the best rooms, the best carriages,
the best of everything. Even her love for Master Scott--poor dear young
man!--depended largely upon the faculty he possessed for consoling and
interesting Miss Isabel. Anyone who did that earned Biddy's undying
respect and gratitude. Of the rest of the world--save for a passing
disapproval--she was scarcely aware. Nothing else mattered in the same
way. In fact nothing else really mattered at all.
Ah! A movement from the bed at last! Her quick ears, ever on the alert,
warned her on the instant. She turned from the window with such
mother-love shining in her old brown face under its severe white cap as
made it as beautiful in its way as the paradise without.
"Why, Miss Isabel darlint, how you've slept then!" she said, in the soft,
crooning voice which was kept for this one beloved being alone.
Two white arms were stretched wide outside the bed. Two dark eyes,
mysteriously shadowed and sunken, looked up to hers.
"Has he gone already, Biddy?" a low voice asked.
"Only a little way, darlint. He's just round the corner," said Biddy
tenderly. "Will ye wait a minute while I give ye your tay?"
There was a spirit-kettle singing merrily in the room. She busied herself
about it, her withered face intent over the task.
The white arms fell upon the blue travelling-rug that Biddy had spread
with loving care outside the bed the night before to add to her
mistress's comfort. "When did he go, Biddy?" the low voice asked, and
there was a furtive quality in the question as if it were designed for
none but Biddy's ears. "Did he--did he leave no message?"
"Ah, to be sure!" said Biddy, turning her face for a moment. "And the
likes of me to have forgotten it! He sent ye his best love, darlint, and
ye were to eat a fine breakfast before ye went out."
The sad eyes smiled at her from the bed, half-gratified,
half-incredulous, like the eyes of a lonely child who listens to a
fairy-tale. "It was like him to think of that, Biddy. But--I wish he had
stayed a little longer. I must get up and go and find him."
"Hasn't he been with ye through the night?" asked Biddy, bent again to
her task.
"Nearly all night long!" The answer came on a note of triumph, yet there
was also a note of challenge in it also.
"Then what more would ye have?" said Biddy wisely. "Leave him alone for a
bit, darlint! Husbands are better without their wives sometimes."
A low laugh came from the bed. "Oh, Biddy, I must tell him that! He would
love your _bon-mots_. Did he--did he say when he would be back?"
"That he did not," said Biddy, still absorbed over the kettle. "But
there's nothing in that at all. Ye can't be always expecting a man to
give account of himself. Now, mavourneen, I'll give ye your tay, and
ye'll be able to get up when ye feel like it. Ah! There's Master Scott!
And would ye like him to come in and have a cup with ye?"
Three soft knocks had sounded on the door. The woman in the bed raised
herself, and her hair fell in glory around her, hair that at twenty-five
had been raven-black, hair that at thirty-two was white as the snow
outside the window.
"Is that you, Stumpy dear? Come in! Come in!" she called.
Her voice was hollow and deep. She turned her face to the door--a
beautiful, wasted face with hungry eyes that watched and waited
perpetually.
The door opened very quietly and unobtrusively, and a small,
insignificant man came in. He was about the size of the average schoolboy
of fifteen, and he walked with a slight limp, one leg being a trifle
shorter than the other. Notwithstanding this defect, his general
appearance was one of extreme neatness, from his colourless but carefully
trained moustache and small trim beard to his well-shod feet. His
clothes---like his beard--fitted him perfectly.
His close-cropped hair was also colourless and grew somewhat far back on
his forehead. His pale grey eyes had a tired expression, as if they had
looked too long or too earnestly upon the turmoil of life.
He came to the bedside and took the thin white hand outstretched to him
on which a wedding ring hung loose. He walked without awkwardness; there
was even dignity in his carriage.
He bent to kiss the uplifted face. "Have you slept well, dear?"
Her arms reached up and clasped his neck. "Oh, Stumpy, yes! I have had a
lovely night. Basil has been with me. He has gone out now; but I am going
to look for him presently."
"Many happy returns of the day to ye, Master Scott!" put in Biddy rather
pointedly.
"Ah yes. It is your birthday. I had forgotten. Forgive me, Stumpy
darling! You know I wish you always the very, very best." The clinging
arms held him more closely,
"Thank you, Isabel." Scott's voice was as tired as his eyes, and yet it
had a certain quality of strength. "Of course it's a very important
occasion. How are we going to celebrate it?"
"I have a present for you somewhere. Biddy, where is it?" Isabel's voice
had a note of impatience in it.
"It's here, darlint! It's here!" Biddy bustled up to the bed with a
parcel.
Isabel took it from her and turned to Scott. "It's only a silly old
cigarette-case, dear, but I thought of it all myself. How old are you
now, Stumpy?"
"I am thirty," he answered, smiling. "Thank you very much, dear. It's
just the thing I wanted--only too good!"
"As if anything could be too good for you!" his sister said tenderly.
"Has Eustace remembered?"
"Oh yes. Eustace has given me a saddle, but as he didn't think I should
want it here, it is to be presented when we get home again." He sat down
on the side of the bed, still inspecting the birthday offering.
"Haven't you had anything from anyone else?" Isabel asked, after a
moment.
He shook his head. "Who else is there to bother about a minnow like me?"
"You're not a minnow, Scott. And didn't--didn't Basil give you anything?"
Scott's tired eyes looked at her with a sudden fixity. He said nothing;
but a piteous look came into Isabel's face under his steady gaze, and she
dropped her own as if ashamed.
"Whisht, Master Scott darlint, for the Lord's sake, don't ye go upsetting
her!" warned Biddy in a sibilant whisper. "I had trouble enough last
night. If it hadn't been for the draught, she wouldn't have slept at all,
at all."
Scott did not look at her. "You should have called me," he said, and
leaning forward took his sister's hand. "Isabel, wouldn't you like to
come out and see the skaters? There is some wonderful luging going on
too."
She did not raise her eyes; her whole demeanour had changed. She seemed
to droop as if all animation had gone; "I don't know," she said
listlessly. "I think I would almost as soon stay here."
"Have your tay, darlint!" coaxed Biddy, on her other side.
"Eustace will be coming to look for you if you don't," said Scott.
She started at that, and gave a quick shiver. "Oh no, I don't want
Eustace! Don't let him come here, Stumpy, will you?"
"Shall I go and tell him you are coming then?" asked Scott, his eyes
still steadily watching her.
She nodded. "Yes, yes. But I don't want to be made. Basil never made me
do things."
Scott rose. "I will wait for you downstairs. Thank you, Biddy. Yes, I'll
drink that first. No tea in the world ever tastes like your brew."
"Get along with your blarney, Master Scott!" protested Biddy. "And you
and Sir Eustace mustn't tire Miss Isabel out. Remember, she's just come a
long journey, and it's not wonderful at all that she don't feel like
exerting herself."
A red fire of resentment smouldered in the old woman's eyes, but Scott
paid no attention to it. "You'd better get some sleep yourself, Biddy, if
you can," he said. "No more, thanks. You will be out in an hour then,
Isabel?"
"Perhaps," she said.
He paused, standing beside her. "If you are not out in an hour I shall
come and fetch you," he said.
She put forth an appealing hand like a child. "I will come out, Stumpy. I
will come out," she said tremulously.
He pressed the hand for a moment. "In an hour then, I want to show you
everything. There is plenty to be seen."
He turned to the door, looked back with a parting smile, and went out.
Isabel did not see the smile. She was staring moodily downwards with eyes
that only looked within.