THE SECOND DRAUGHT
They returned to the hotel by a circuitous route that brought them by a
mountain-road into the village just below the hotel. The moon was rising
as they ascended the final slope. The chill of mist was in the air.
Sir Eustace was waiting for them in the porch. He helped his sister to
alight, but she went by him at once with a rapt look as though she had
not seen him. She had sat in almost unbroken silence throughout the
homeward drive.
Dinah would have followed her in, but Sir Eustace held her back a moment.
"There is to be a dance to-night," he murmured in her ear. "May I count
on you?"
She looked at him, the ecstasy of the mountains still shining in her
starry eyes. "Yes--yes! If I am allowed!" And then, with a sudden memory
of her promise to the Colonel, "But I don't suppose I shall be. And I
haven't anything to wear except my fancy dress."
"What of that?" he said lightly. "Call the fairies in to help!"
She laughed, and ran in.
Not for a moment did she suppose that she would be allowed to dance that
night; but it seemed that luck was with her, for the first person she met
was the Colonel, and he was looking so particularly well pleased with
himself and affairs in general that she stopped to tell him of her drive.
"It's been so perfect," she said. "I have enjoyed it! Thank you ever so
many times for letting me go!"
Her flushed and happy face was very fair to see, and the Colonel smiled
upon her with fatherly kindness. He could not help liking the child. She
was such a taking imp!
"Glad you've had a good time," he said. "I hope you thanked your friends
for taking you."
"I should think I did!" laughed Dinah; and then seeing that his
expression was so benignant she slipped an ingratiating hand through his
arm. "Colonel, please--please--may I dance to-night?"
"What?" He looked at her searchingly, with a somewhat laboured attempt to
be severe. "Now--now--who do you want to dance with?"
"Anyone or no one," said Dinah boldly. "I feel happy enough to dance by
myself."
"That means you're in a mischievous mood," said the Colonel.
"It's only a Cinderella affair," pleaded Dinah. "To-morrow's Sunday, you
know. There'll be no dancing to-morrow."
"And a good thing too," he commented. "A pity Sunday doesn't come
oftener! What will Lady Grace say I wonder?"
"But Rose is sure to dance," urged Dinah.
"I'm not so sure of that, Sir Eustace Studley has been teaching her to
ski all the afternoon, and if she isn't tired, she ought to be."
"Oh, lucky Rose!" Dinah knew an instant's envy. "But I expect she'll
dance all the same. And--and--I may dance with him--just once, mayn't I?
There couldn't be any harm in just one dance. No one would notice that,
would they?"
She pressed close to the Colonel with her petition, and he found it hard
to refuse. She made it with so childlike an earnestness, and--all his
pomposity notwithstanding--he had a soft heart for children.
"There, be off with you!" he said. "Yes, you may give him one dance if he
asks for it. But only one, mind! That's a bargain, is it?"
Dinah beamed radiant acquiescence. "I'll save all the rest for you.
You're a dear to let me, and I'll be ever so good. Good-bye!"
She went, flitting like a butterfly up the stairs, and the Colonel smiled
in spite of himself as he watched her go. "Little witch!" he muttered. "I
wonder what your mother would say to you if she knew."
Dinah raced breathless to her room, and began a fevered toilet. It was
true that she possessed nothing suitable for ballroom wear; but then the
dance was to be quite informal, and she was too happy to fret herself
over that fact. She put on the white muslin frock which she had worn for
dinner ever since she had been with the de Vignes. It gave her a
fairylike daintiness that had a charm of its own of which she was utterly
unconscious. Perhaps fortunately, she had no time to think of her
appearance. When she descended again, her eyes were still shining with a
happiness so obvious that Billy, meeting her, exclaimed, "What have you
got to be so cheerful about?"
She proceeded to tell him of the glorious afternoon she had spent, and
was still in the midst of her description when Sir Eustace came up and
joined them.
"I thought you would manage it," he said, with smiling assurance. "And
now how many may I have? All the waltzes?"
Dinah's laugh rang so gaily that several heads were turned in her
direction, and she smothered it in alarm.
"I can only give you one," she said, with a great effort at sobriety.
"What? Oh, nonsense!" he protested, his blue eyes dominating hers. "You
couldn't be so shabby as that!"
Dinah's chin pointed merrily upwards. The situation had its humour. It
was certainly rather amusing to elude him. She knew he had caught her far
too easily the night before.
"It's all I have to offer," she declared.
"Meaning you're not going to dance more than one dance?" he asked.
She opened her laughing eyes wide. "Why should it mean that? You're not
the only man in the room, are you?"
Sir Eustace's jaw set itself suddenly after a fashion that made him
look formidable, albeit he laughed back at her with his eyes. "All
right--Daphne," he murmured. "I'll have the first."
Dinah's heart gave a little throb of apprehension, but she quieted it
impatiently. What had she to fear? She nodded and lightly turned away.
All through dinner she alternately dreaded and longed for the moment of
his coming to claim that dance from her. That haughty confidence of his
had struck a curious chord in her soul, and the suspense was almost
unbearable.
She noticed that Rose was very serene and smiling, and she regarded her
complacency with growing resentment. Rose could dance as often as she
liked with him, and no one would find fault. Rose had had him all to
herself throughout the afternoon moreover. She knew very well that had
the ski-ing lesson been offered to her, she would not have been allowed
to avail herself of it.
A wicked little spirit awoke within her. Why should she always be kept
thus in the background? Surely her right to the joys of life was as great
as--if not greater than--Rose's! With her it would all end so soon, while
Rose had the whole of her youth before her like a pleasant garden in
which she might wander or rest at will.
Dinah began to feel feverish. It seemed so imperative that she should
miss nothing good during this brief, brief time of happiness vouchsafed
her by the gods.
Her frame of mind when she entered the ballroom was curious. Mutiny and
doubt, longing and dread, warred strangely together. But the moment he
came to her, the moment she felt his arm about her, rapture came and
drove out all beside. She drank again of the wine of the gods, drank
deeply, giving herself up to it without reservation, too eager to catch
every drop thereof to trouble as to what might follow.
He caught her mood. Possibly it was but the complement of his own. Freely
he interpreted it, feeling her body throb in swift accord to every
motion, aware of the almost passionate surrender of her whole being to
the delight of that one magic dance. She was reckless, and he was
determined. If this were to be all, he would take his fill at once, and
she should have hers. Before the dance was more than half through, he
guided her out of the labyrinth into the darkly curtained recess that led
out to the verandah, and there holding her, before she so much as
realized that they had ceased to dance, he gathered her suddenly and
fiercely to him and covered her startled, quivering face with kisses.
She made no outcry, attempted no resistance. He had been too sudden for
that. His mastery was too absolute. Holding her fast in the gloom, he
took what he would, till with a little sob her arms clasped his neck and
she clung to him, giving herself wholly up to him.
But when his hold relaxed at last, she hid her face panting against his
breast. He smoothed the dark hair with a possessive touch, laughing
softly at her agitation.
"Did you think you could get away from me, you brown elf?" he whispered.
"I--I could if I tried," she whispered back.
His hold tightened again. "Try!" he said.
She shook her head without lifting it. "No," she murmured,
with a shy laugh. "I don't want to. Shan't we go back--and
dance--before--before--" She broke off in confusion.
"Before what?" he said.
She made a motion to turn her face upwards, but, finding his still close,
buried it a little deeper. "I--promised the Colonel--I'd be good," she
faltered into his shoulder. "I think I ought to begin--soon; don't you?"
"Is that why I am to have only this one dance?" he asked.
"Yes," she admitted.
His caressing hand found and lightly pressed her cheek. "What are you
going to do when it's over?" he asked.
"I don't know," she said. "There's Billy. I may dance with him."
He laughed. "That's an exciting programme. Shall I tell you what I should
do--if I were in your place?"
"What?" said Dinah.
Again she raised her face a few inches and again, catching a glimpse of
the compelling blue eyes, plunged it deeply into his coat.
He laughed again softly, with a hint of mockery. "I should have one dance
with Billy, and one with the omnipotent Colonel. And then I should be
tired and say good night."
"But I shan't be a bit tired," protested Dinah, faintly indignant.
"Of course not," laughed Sir Eustace. "You will be just ripe for a little
fun. There's quite a cosy sitting-out place at the end of our corridor. I
should go to bed _viâ_ that route."
"Oh!" said Dinah, with a gasp.
She lifted her head in astonishment, and met the eyes that so thrilled
her. "But--but that would be wrong!" she said.
"I've done naughtier things than that, my virtuous sprite," he said.
But Dinah did not laugh. Very suddenly quite unbidden there flashed
across her the memory of Scott's look the night before and her own
overwhelming confusion beneath it. What would her friend Mr. Greatheart
say to such a proposal? What would he say could he see her now? The hot
blood rushed to her face at the bare thought. She drew herself away from
him. Her rapture was gone; she was burningly ashamed. The Colonel's
majestic displeasure was as nothing in comparison with Scott's wordless
disapproval.
"Oh, I couldn't do that," she said. "I--couldn't. I ought not to be here
with you now."
"My fault," he said easily. "I brought you here before you knew where you
were. If you go to confession, you can mention that as an extenuating
circumstance."
"Oh, don't!" said Dinah, inexplicably stung by his manner. "It--it isn't
nice of you to talk like that."
He put out his hand and touched her arm lightly, persuasively. "Then you
are angry with me?" he said.
Her resentment melted. She threw him a fleeting smile. "No--no! But how
could you imagine I could tell anyone? You didn't seriously--you
couldn't!"
"There isn't much to tell, is there?" he said, his fingers closing gently
over the soft roundness of her arm. "And you don't like that plan of
mine?"
"I didn't say I didn't like it," said Dinah, her eyes lowered.
"But--but--I can't do it, that's all. I'm going now. Good-bye!"
She turned to go, but his fingers still held. He drew a step nearer.
"Daphne, remember--you are not to run away!"
A transient dimple showed at the corner of Dinah's mouth. "You must let
me go then," she said.
"And if I do--how will you reward me?" His voice was very deep; the tones
of it sent a sharp quiver through her. She felt unspeakably small and
helpless.
She made a little gesture of appeal. "Please--please let me go! You know
you are much stronger than I am."
He drew nearer, his face bent so low that his lips touched her shoulder
as she stood turned from him. "You don't know your strength yet," he
said. "But you soon will. Are you going away from me like this? Don't you
think you're rather hard on me?"
It was a point of view that had not occurred to Dinah. Her warm heart had
a sudden twinge of self-reproach. She turned swiftly to him.
"I didn't mean to be horrid. Please don't think that of me! I know I
often am. But not to you--never to you!"
"Never?" he said.
His face was close to her, and it wore a faint smile in which she
detected none of the arrogance of the conqueror. She put up a shy,
impulsive hand and touched his cheek.
"Of course not--Apollo!" she whispered.
He caught the hand and kissed it. She trembled as she felt the drawing of
his lips.
"I--I must really go now," she told him hastily.
He stood up to his full height, and again she quivered as she realized
how magnificent a man he was.
"_A bientôt_, Daphne!" he said, and let her go.
She slipped away from his presence with the feeling of being caught in
the meshes of a great net from which she could never hope to escape. She
had drunk to-night yet deeper of the wine of the gods, and she knew
beyond all doubting that she would return for more.
The memory of his kisses thrilled her all through the night. When she
dreamed she was back again in his arms.