CINDERELLA
"Come and sit down!" said Scott.
Dinah gave a little start. She was standing close to him, but she had not
seen him. She looked at him for a second with far-away eyes, as if she
did not know him.
Then recognition flashed into them. She smiled an eager greeting. "Oh,
Mr. Studley, I want to thank you for the very happiest evening of my
life."
He smiled also as he sat down beside her. "You are enjoying yourself?"
"Oh yes, indeed I am!" she assured him. "Thank you a hundred million
times!"
"Why thank me?" questioned Scott.
She drew a long, long breath. "Because you were the magician who pulled
the strings. I should never have got dressed in the first place but for
you."
He gave a laugh of amused protest. "Oh, surely! I don't feel I deserve
that!"
She laughed with him. "You did it anyhow. And in the second place you got
me out of a villainous bad temper and turned an ugly goblin into a very
happy butterfly. I'm downright ashamed of myself for being so horrid
about Rose de Vigne. She isn't at all a bad sort though she is so
impossibly beautiful. Your brother is going to dance with her now. See!
There they go!"
She looked after them with a smile of complete content.
"You're feeling generous," remarked Scott.
She turned to him again, flushed and radiant. "I can afford to--though
it's for the first time in my life. I've never had such a happy
time,--never, never, never! Isn't your brother wonderful? His dancing
is--" Words failed her. She raised her hands and let them fall with a
gesture expressive of unbounded admiration.
"You mustn't let him monopolize you," said Scott. "He has plenty to
choose from, you know. Others haven't."
She laughed. "He says--I wonder if it's true!--he says I am the best
dancer he has ever met!"
Scott smiled at her beaming face. "That is very nice--for him," he
observed. "I thought you seemed to be getting on very well."
Her eyes travelled across the room again to her late partner and the
beautiful Miss de Vigne. She watched them intently for a few seconds.
"Poor Rose!" she said suddenly.
Scott was watching her. "Isn't she a good dancer?" he asked.
She turned back to him. "Oh yes, I believe she is. She always has plenty
of partners anyway. At least I've always heard so. Is your sister
dancing? I don't think I can have seen her yet."
"No. She is in her sitting-room upstairs. I wanted her to come down, but
she wouldn't be persuaded. She--" Scott hesitated a moment--"is not fond
of gaiety."
"Then I shan't see her!" said Dinah in tones of genuine disappointment.
"I did so want to thank her for lending me these lovely things."
"I can take you to her if you'll come," said Scott.
"Oh, can you? Yes, I'll come. I can come now. But are you sure she will
like it?" Dinah's bright eyes met his with frank directness. "I don't
want to intrude on her, you know," she said.
He smiled a little. "I am sure you won't intrude. Shall we go then? Are
you sure there is no one else you want to dance with here?"
"Oh, quite sure." Again momentarily Dinah's look sought her late partner;
then briskly she stood up.
Scott rose also, and gave her his arm. She bestowed a small, friendly
squeeze upon it. "I've never enjoyed myself so much before," she said.
"And it's all your doing."
"Oh, not really!" he said.
She nodded vigorously. "But it is! I should never have been presentable
but for you. And I should certainly never have danced with your brother.
He has actually promised to help me with my skating to-morrow. Isn't it
kind of him?"
"I wonder," said Scott.
"What do you wonder?" Dinah looked at him curiously.
But he only smiled a baffling smile, and turned the subject. "Wouldn't
you like something to drink before we go up?"
Dinah declined. She was not in the least thirsty. She did not feel as if
she would ever want to eat or drink again.
"Only to dance!" said Scott. "Well, I mustn't keep you long then. Who is
that lady making signs to you? Hadn't you better go and speak to her?"
"Oh, bother!" said Dinah. "You come too, then. It's only Lady
Grace--Rose's mother. I'm sure it can't be anything important."
Scott piloted her across the vestibule to the couch on which Lady Grace
sat. She was a large, fair woman with limpid eyes and drawling speech.
She extended a plump white hand to the girl.
"Dinah, my dear, I think you have had almost enough for to-night. And
they were so very behind time in starting. Your mother would not like you
to stay up late, I feel sure. You had better go to bed when this dance is
over. You are not accustomed to dissipation, remember."
A swift cloud came over Dinah's bright face. "Oh, but, Lady Grace, I'm
not in the least tired. And I'm not a baby, you know. I'm nearly twenty.
I really couldn't go yet."
"You will have plenty more opportunities, dear," said Lady Grace, quite
unruffled. "Rose has decided to retire after this dance, and I shall do
the same. The Colonel is suffering with dyspepsia, and he does not wish
us to be late."
Dinah bit her lip. "Oh, very well," she said somewhat shortly; and to
Scott, "We had better go at once then."
He led her away obediently. They ascended the stairs together.
As they reached the top of the flight Dinah's indignation burst its
bounds. "Isn't it too bad? Why should I go to bed just because the
Colonel's got dyspepsia? I don't believe it's that at all really. It's
Rose who can't bear to think that I am having as good a time--or
Better--than she is."
"May I say what I think?" asked Scott politely.
She stopped, facing him. "Yes, do!"
He was smiling somewhat whimsically. "I think that--like Cinderella--you
may break the spell if you stay too long."
"But isn't it too bad?" protested Dinah. "Your brother too--I can't
disappoint him."
Scott's smile became a laugh. "Oh, believe me, it would do him good, Miss
Bathurst. He gets his own way much too often."
She smiled, but not very willingly. "It does seem such a shame. He has
been--so awfully nice to me."
"That's nothing," said Scott airily. "We can all be nice when we are
enjoying ourselves."
Dinah looked at him with sudden attention. "Are you pointing a moral?"
she asked severely.
"Trying to," said Scott.
She tried to frown upon him, but very abruptly and completely failed. Her
pointed chin went up in a gay laugh. "You do it very nicely," she said.
"Thank you, Mr. Studley. I won't be grumpy any more. It would be a pity
to break the spell, as you say. Will you explain to the prince?"
"Certainly," he said, leading her on again. "I shall make it quite clear
to him that Cinderella was not to blame. Here is our sitting-room at the
end of this passage!"
He stopped at the door and would have opened it, but Dinah, smitten with
sudden shyness, drew back.
"Hadn't you better go in first and--and explain?" she said.
"Oh no, quite unnecessary," he said, and turned the handle.
At once a woman's voice accosted him. "For the Lord's sake, Master
Stumpy, come in quick and shut the door behind ye! The racket downstairs
is sending Miss Isabel nearly crazy, poor lamb. And it's meself that's
wondering what we'll do to-night, for there's no peace at all in this
wooden shanty of a place."
"Be quiet, Biddy!" Scott's voice made calm, undaunted answer. "You can go
if you like. I've come to sit with Miss Isabel for a while. And I've
brought her a visitor. Isabel, my dear, I've brought you a visitor."
Dinah moved forward in response to his gentle insistence, but her shyness
went with her. She was aware of something intangible in the atmosphere
that startled, that almost frightened, her.
The gaunt figure of a woman clad in a long, white robe sat at a table in
the middle of the room with a sheaf of letters littered before her. Her
emaciated arms were flung wide over them, her white head was bowed.
But at Scott's quiet announcement, it was raised with the suddenness of
eager expectancy. For the fraction of a second Dinah saw dark, sunken
eyes ablaze with a hope that was almost terrible in its intensity.
It was gone on the instant. They looked at her with a species of dull
wonder. "Are you a friend of Scott's? I am very pleased to meet you," a
hollow voice said.
A thin hand was extended to her, and as Dinah clasped it a sudden great
pity surged through her, dispelling her doubt. Something in her responded
swiftly, even passionately, to the hunger of those eyes. The moment's
shock passed from her like a cloud.
"My sister Mrs. Everard," said Scott's voice at her shoulder. "Isabel,
this is Miss Bathurst of whom I was telling you."
"You lent me your jewels," said Dinah, looking into the wasted face with
a sympathy at her heart that was almost too poignant to be borne. "Thank
you so very, very much for them! It was so very kind of you to lend them
to a total stranger like me."
The strange eyes were gazing at her with a curious, growing interest. A
faint, faint smile was in their depths. "Are we strangers, child?" the
low voice asked. "I feel as if we had met before. Why do you look at me
so kindly? Most people only stare."
Dinah was suddenly conscious of a hot sensation at the throat that made
her want to cry. "It is you who have been kind," she said, and her little
hand closed with confidence upon the limp, cold fingers. "I am wearing
your things still, and I have had such a lovely time. Thank you again for
letting me have them. I am going to return them now."
"You need not do that." Isabel spoke with her eyes still fixed upon the
girlish face. "Keep them if you like them! I shall never wear them again.
They tell me--they tell me--I am a widow."
"Miss Isabel darlint!" Biddy spoke sibilantly from the background. "Don't
be talking to the young lady of such things! Won't ye sit down then,
miss? And maybe I can get ye a cup o' tay."
"Ah, do, Biddy!" Scott put in his quiet word. "There is no tea like
yours. Isabel, Miss Bathurst is a keen dancer. She and Eustace have been
most energetic. It was a pity you couldn't come down and see the fun."
"Oh! Did you enjoy it?" Isabel still looked into the brown, piquant face
as though loth to turn her eyes away.
"I loved it," said Dinah.
"Was Eustace kind to you?"
"Oh, most kind." Dinah spoke with candid enthusiasm.
"I am glad of that," Isabel's voice held a note of satisfaction. "But I
should think everyone is kind to you, child," she said, with her faint,
glimmering smile. "How beautiful you are!"
"Me!" Dinah opened her eyes in genuine astonishment. "Oh you wouldn't
think so if you saw me in my ordinary dress," she said. "I'm nothing at
all to look at really. It's just a case of 'Fine feathers,'--nothing
else."
"My dear," Isabel said, "I am not looking at your dress. I seldom notice
outer things. I am looking through your eyes into your soul. It is that
that makes you beautiful. I think it is the loveliest thing that I have
ever seen."
"Oh, you wouldn't say so if you knew me!" cried Dinah,
conscience-stricken. "I have horrid thoughts often--very often."
The dark, watching eyes still smiled in their far-off way. "I should like
to know you, dear child," Isabel said. "You have helped me--you could
help me in a way that probably you will never understand. Won't you sit
down? I will put my letters away, and we will talk."
She began to collect the litter before her, laying the letters together
one by one with reverent care.
"Can I help?" asked Dinah timidly.
But she shook her head. "No, child, your hands must not touch them. They
are the ashes of my life."
An open box stood on the table. She drew it to her, and laid the letters
within it. Then she rose, and drew her guest to a lounge.
"We will sit here," she said. "Stumpy, why don't you smoke? Ah, the music
has stopped at last. It has been racking me all the evening. Yes, you
love it, of course. That is natural. I loved it once. It is always sweet
to those who dance. But to those who sit out--those who sit out--" Her
voice sank, and she said no more.
Dinah's hand slipped softly into hers. "I like sitting out too
sometimes," she said. "At least I like it now."
Isabel's eyes were upon her again. They looked at her with a kind of
incredulous wonder. After a moment she sighed.
"You would not like it for long, child. I am a prisoner. I sit in chains
while the world goes by. They are all hurrying forward so eager to get
on. But there is never any going on for me. I sit and watch--and watch."
"Surely we must all go forward somehow," said Dinah shyly.
"Surely," said Scott.
But Isabel only shook her head with dreary conviction. "Not the
prisoners," she said. "They die by the wayside."
There fell a brief silence, then impetuously Dinah spoke, urged by the
fulness of her heart. "I think we all feel like that sometimes. I know at
home it's just like being in a cage. Nothing ever happens worth
mentioning. And then quite suddenly the door is opened and out we come.
That's partly why I am enjoying everything so much," she explained. "But
it won't be a bit nice going back."
"What about your mother?" said Scott.
Dinah's bright face clouded again. "Yes, of course, there's Mother," she
agreed.
She looked across at Scott as if she would say more; but he passed
quietly on. "Where is your home, Miss Bathurst?"
"Right in the very heart of the Midlands. It is pretty country, but oh,
so dull. The de Vignes are the rich people of the place. They belong to
the County. We don't," said Dinah, with a sigh.
Scott laughed, and she looked momentarily hurt.
"I don't see what there is funny in that. The County people and the shop
people are the only ones that get any fun. It's horrid to be between the
two."
"Forgive me!" Scott said. "I quite see your point. But if you only knew
it, the people who call themselves County are often the dullest of the
dull."
"You say that because you belong to them, I expect," retorted Dinah. "But
if you were me, and lived always under the shadow of the de Vignes, you
wouldn't think it a bit funny."
"Who are the de Vignes?" asked Isabel suddenly.
Dinah turned to her. "We are staying here with them, Billy and I. My
father persuaded the Colonel to have us. He knew how dreadfully we wanted
to go. The Colonel is rather good-natured over some things, and he and
Dad are friends. But I don't think Lady Grace wanted us much. You see,
she and Rose are so very smart."
"I see," said Scott.
"Rose has been presented at Court," pursued Dinah. "They always go up for
the season. They have a house in town. We always say that Rose is waiting
to marry a marquis; but he hasn't turned up yet. You see, she really is
much too beautiful to marry an ordinary person, isn't she?"
"Oh, much," said Scott.
Dinah heaved another little sigh; then suddenly she laughed. "But your
brother has promised to help me with my skating to-morrow anyhow," she
said. "So she won't have him all the time."
"Perhaps the marquis will come along to-morrow," suggested Scott.
"I wish he would," said Dinah, with fervour.