FRIENDSHIP IN THE DESERT
On the edge of the rink immediately below the hotel, a slight figure was
standing, patient as the Sphinx, awaiting them.
Sir Eustace's keen eyes lighted upon it from afar. "There is my brother,"
he said. "We will go and speak to him if you have no objection."
Dinah received the suggestion with eagerness. She was possessed for the
moment by an urgent desire to get back to the commonplace. She had been
whirled off her feet, and albeit the flight had held rapture, she had a
desperate longing to tread solid ground once more.
Possibly her companion shared something of this feeling. The game was
his, but there was no more to be won from her that night. The time had
come to descend from the heights to the dull and banal levels. He divined
her wish to return to earth, and he had no reason for thwarting it. With
a careless laugh he put on speed and rushed her dizzily through the
throng.
To Dinah it was as a rapid fall through space. She felt as if she had
been suddenly shot from the gates of Olympus. She reached Scott, flushed
and breathless and quivering still with the wonder of it.
He greeted her courteously. "Are you having a good time, Miss Bathurst?"
She answered him gaspingly. Somehow it was an immense relief to find
herself by his side. "Yes; a glorious time. But I am coming off now. Have
you--have you seen anything of Lady Grace or the Colonel?"
"I have just had the pleasure of making Lady Grace's acquaintance," he
said. "Are you really coming off now? Have you had enough?"
She passed over his last question, for the wonder pierced her if she had
not had too much. "Yes, really. I am going to change my boots. I left
them somewhere here. I wonder where they are. Ah, there they are against
the railing! No, please don't! I can manage quite well. I would rather."
She sat down on the bank, and bent her hot face over her task.
The two brothers remained near her. Scott was apparently waiting for her.
They exchanged a few low words.
"I'll do my level best, old chap," she heard Scott say. "But if I don't
succeed, it can't be helped. Rome wasn't built in a day."
Eustace made an impatient sound, and muttered something in a whisper.
"No," Scott said in answer. "Not that! Never with my consent. It wouldn't
do, man! I tell you it wouldn't do. Can't you take my word for it?"
"You're as obstinate as a mule, Stumpy," his brother said, in tones of
irritation. "It'll come to it sooner or later. You're only prolonging the
agony."
"I am doing my best," Scott said gravely. "Give me credit for that at
least!"
Sir Eustace clapped a sudden hand on his shoulder. "No one doubts that,
my boy. You're true gold. But it's sheer foolishness to go on in the same
old way that's proved a failure a hundred times. In heaven's name, now
that we've hauled her out of that infernal groove, don't let idiotic
sentimentality spoil everything! Don't shy at the consequences! I'll be
responsible for them."
Dinah glanced up. She saw that for the moment she was forgotten. The
light was shining upon Scott's face, and she read in it undeniable
perplexity, but the eyes were steadfast and wholly calm.
He even smiled a little as he said, "My dear chap, have you ever
considered the consequences of anything--counted the cost before you came
to pay? No, never!"
"Don't preach to me!" Eustace said sharply.
"No. I won't. But don't you talk in that airy way about responsibility
to me! Because--" Scott's smile broadened and became openly
affectionate--"it just won't go down, dear fellow! I can't swallow
camels--never could."
"You can strain at gnats though," commented Sir Eustace, pivoting round
on his skates. "Well, you know my sentiments. I haven't put my foot down
yet. But I'm going to--pretty soon. It's got to be done. And if you can't
bring yourself to it,--well, I shall, that's all."
He was gone with the words, swift as an arrow, leaving behind him a space
so empty that Dinah felt a sudden queer little pang of desolation.
Scott remained motionless, deep in thought, for the passage of several
seconds. Then abruptly the consciousness of her presence came upon him,
and he turned to her. She was sitting on the bank looking up at him with
frank interest. Their eyes met.
And then a very curious thing happened to Dinah. She flinched under his
look, flinched and averted her own. A great shyness suddenly surged
through her, a quivering, overmastering sense of embarrassment. For in
that moment she viewed the flight to Olympus as he would have viewed it,
and was horribly, overwhelmingly ashamed. She could not break the
silence. She had no words to utter--no possible means at hand by which to
cover her discomfiture.
It was he who spoke, in his voice a tinge of restraint. "I was going to
ask if it would bore you to come and see my sister again this evening. I
have obtained Lady Grace's permission for you to do so."
She sprang to her feet. "Of course--of course I would love to!" she said
rather incoherently. "How could it bore me? I--I should like it--more
than anything."
He smiled faintly, and held out his hand for the boots she had just
discarded. "That is more than kind of you," he said. "My sister was
afraid you might not want to come."
"Of course I want to come!" maintained Dinah. "Oh no, thank you; I
couldn't let you carry my boots. How clever of you to tackle Lady Grace!
What did she say?"
"Neither she nor the Colonel made any difficulty about it at all," Scott
said. "I told them my sister was an invalid. Lady Grace said that I must
not keep you after ten, and I promised I wouldn't."
His manner was kindly and quizzical, and Dinah's embarrassment began to
pass. But he discomfited her afresh as they walked across the road by
saying, "You have made it up with my brother, I see."
Dinah's cheeks burned again. "Yes," she said, after a moment. "We made it
up this afternoon."
"That was very lucky--for him," observed Scott rather dryly.
Dinah made a swift leap for the commonplace. "I hate being cross with
people," she said, "or to have them cross with me; don't you?"
"I think it is sometimes unavoidable," said Scott gravely.
"Oh, surely you are never cross!" said Dinah impetuously. "I can't
imagine it."
"Wait till you see it!" said Scott, with a smile.
They entered the hotel together. Dinah was tingling with excitement. She
had managed to escape from her discomfiture, but she still felt that any
prolonged intercourse with the man beside her would bring it back. She
was beginning to know Scott as one who would not hesitate to say exactly
what he thought, and not for all she possessed in the world would she
have had him know what had passed in that far corner of the rink so short
a time before.
She chattered inconsequently upon ordinary topics as they ascended the
stairs together, but when they reached the door of Isabel's sitting-room
she became suddenly shy again.
"Hadn't I better run and take off my things?" she whispered. "I feel so
untidy."
He looked at her. She was clad in the white woollen cap and coat that she
had worn in the day. Her eyes were alight and sparkling, her brown face
flushed. She looked the very incarnation of youth.
"I think she will like to see you as you are," said Scott.
He knocked upon the door three times as before, and in a moment opened
it.
"Go in, won't you?" he said, standing back.
Dinah entered.
"Ah! She has come!" A hollow voice said, and in a moment her shyness was
gone.
She moved forward eagerly, saw Isabel seated in a low chair, and
impulsively went to her. "How kind you are to ask me to come again!" she
said.
And then all in a moment Isabel's arms came out to her, and she slipped
down upon her knees beside her into their close embrace.
"How kind of you to come, dear child!" Isabel murmured. "I am afraid it
is a visit to the desert for you."
"But I love to come!" Dinah told her with warm lips raised. "I can't tell
you how much. I was never so happy before. Each day seems lovelier than
the last."
Isabel kissed her lingeringly, tenderly. "My dear, you have a happy
heart," she said. "Tell me what you have been doing since I saw you
last!"
She would have let her go, but Dinah clung to her still, her cheek
against her shoulder. "I have been very frivolous, dear Mrs. Everard,"
she said. "I have done lots of things. This afternoon we were luging, and
now I have just come from the carnival, I wish you could have been there.
Some people are wearing the most horrible masks. Billy--my brother--has a
beauty. He made it himself. I rather wanted it to wear, but he wouldn't
part with it."
"You could never wear a mask, sweetheart," Isabel said, clasping the
small brown hand in hers. "Your face is too sweet a thing to hide."
Dinah hugged her in naïve delight. "I always thought I was ugly before,"
she said.
Isabel's face wore a wan smile. She stroked the girl's soft cheek. "My
dear, no one with a heart like yours could have an ugly face. How did you
enjoy your dance with Eustace last night?"
Dinah bent her head a little, wishing earnestly that Scott were not in
the room. "I loved it," she said in a low voice.
"And afterwards?" questioned Isabel. "No one was vexed with you, I hope?"
Dinah hesitated. "Colonel de Vigne wasn't best pleased, I'm afraid," she
said, after a moment.
"He scolded you!" said Isabel, swift regret in her voice. "I am so sorry,
dear child. I ought to have gone to look after you. I was selfish."
"Oh no--indeed!" Dinah protested. "It was entirely my own fault. He would
have been cross in any case. They are like that."
Isabel uttered a sigh. "I shall have to try to meet them. Naturally they
will not let you come to total strangers. Stumpy, remind me in the
morning! I must manage somehow to meet this child's guardians."
"Of course, dear," said Scott.
Dinah, glancing towards him, saw him exchange a swift look with the old
nurse in the background, but his voice held neither surprise nor
gratification. He took out a cigarette and began to smoke.
Isabel leaned back in her chair with abrupt weariness as if in reaction
from the strain of a sudden unwonted exertion. "Let me see! Do I know
your Christian name? Ah yes,--Dinah! What a pretty gipsy name! I think
you are a little gipsy, are you not? You have the charm of the woods
about you. Won't you sit in that chair, dear? You can't be comfortable on
the floor."
But Dinah preferred to sit down against her knee, still holding the
slender, inert hand.
"Tell me about your home!" Isabel said, closing languid eyes. "I can't
talk much more, but I can listen. It does not tire me to listen."
Dinah hesitated somewhat. "I don't think you would find it very
interesting," she said.
"But I am interested," Isabel said. "You live in the country, I think you
said."
"At a place called Perrythorpe," Dinah said. "It's a great hunting
country. My father hunts a lot and shoots too."
"Do you hunt?" asked Isabel.
"Oh no, never! There's never any time. I go for rambles sometimes on
Sundays. Other days I am always busy. Fancy me hunting!" said Dinah, with
a little laugh.
"I used to," said Isabel. "They always said I should end with a broken
neck. But I never did."
"Are you very fond of riding?" asked Dinah.
"Not now, dear. I am not fond of anything now. Tell me some more, won't
you? What makes you so busy that you never have time for any fun?"
Again Dinah hesitated. "You see, we're poor," she said. "My mother and I
do all the work of the house and garden too."
"And your father is able to hunt?" Isabel's eyes opened. Her hand closed
upon Dinah's caressingly.
"Oh yes, he has always hunted," Dinah said. "I don't think he could do
without it. He would find it so dull."
"I see," said Isabel. "But he can't afford pleasures for you."
There was no perceptible sarcasm in her voice, but Dinah coloured a
little and went at once to her father's defence.
"He sends Billy to a public school. Of course I--being only a girl--don't
count. And he has sent us out here, which was very good of him--the
sweetest thing he has ever done. He had a lucky speculation the other
day, and he has spent it nearly all on us. Wasn't that kind of him?"
"Very kind, dear," said Isabel gently. "How long are you to have out
here?"
"Only three weeks, and half the time is gone already," sighed Dinah. "The
de Vignes are not staying longer. The Colonel is a J.P., and much too
important to stay away for long. And they are going to have a large
house-party. There isn't much more than a week left now." She sighed
again.
"And then you will have no more fun at all?" asked Isabel.
"Not a scrap--nothing but work." Dinah's voice quivered a little. "I
don't suppose it has been very good for me coming out here," she said.
"I--I believe I'm much too fond of gaiety really."
Isabel's hand touched her cheek. "Poor little girl!" she said. "But you
wouldn't like to leave your mother to do all the drudgery alone."
"Oh yes, I should," said Dinah, with a touch of recklessness. "I'd never
go back if I could help it. I love Dad of course; but--" She paused.
"You don't love your mother?" supplemented Isabel.
Dinah leaned her face suddenly against the caressing hand. "Not much, I'm
afraid," she whispered.
"Poor little girl!" Isabel murmured again compassionately.