THE LIGHTS OF A CITY
"May I come in?" said Sir Eustace.
He stood in the doorway, a gigantic figure to Dinah's unaccustomed eyes,
and looked in upon her with a careless smile on his handsome face.
"Oh, please do!" she said.
She was lying on a couch under a purple rug belonging to Isabel. Very
fragile and weak she looked, but her face was flushed and eager, her eyes
alight with welcome. She thought he had never looked so splendid, so
godlike, as at that moment. She wanted to hold out both her arms to him
and be borne upward to Olympus in his embrace.
He came forward with his easy carriage and stood beside her. His smile
was one of kindly indulgence. He looked down at her as he might have
looked upon an infant.
An uneasy sense of her own insignificance went through Dinah. She could
not remember that he had ever regarded her thus before. A faint, faint
throb of resentment also pulsed through her. His attitude was so
suggestive of the mere casual acquaintance. Surely--surely he had not
forgotten!
"Won't you sit down?" she asked in a small voice that was quite
unconsciously formal.
He seated himself in the chair that had been placed at her side. "So they
have left you behind to be mended, have they?" he said. "I hope it is a
satisfactory process, is it?"
She had meant to give him her hand, but as he did not seem to expect it
she refrained from doing so. A great longing to cover her face and burst
into tears took possession of her; she resisted it frantically, with all
her strength.
"Oh yes, I am getting better, thank you," she said, in a voice that
quivered in spite of her. "I am afraid I have been a great nuisance to
everybody. I am sure the de Vignes thought so; and--and--I expect you do
too."
She could not keep the tears from springing to her eyes, strive as she
would. He was so different--so different. He might have been a total
stranger, sitting there beside her.
Yet as he looked at her, she felt something of the old quick thrill; for
the blue eyes regarded her with a slightly warmer interest as he said, "I
can't answer for the de Vignes of course, but it doesn't seem to me that
either they or I have had much cause for complaint. I shouldn't fret
about that if I were you."
She commanded herself with an effort. "I don't. Only it isn't nice to
feel a burden to anyone, is it? You wouldn't like it, would you?"
"Oh, I don't know," he said, with his easy arrogance. "I think I should
expect to be waited on if I were ill. You've had rather a bad time, I'm
afraid. But you haven't missed much. The weather has been villainous."
"I've missed all the dances," said Dinah, stifling a sob.
He began to smile. "I wish I had. I haven't enjoyed one of them."
That comforted her a little. At least Rose had not scored an unqualified
victory! "You've been bored?" she asked.
"Horribly bored," said Sir Eustace. "There's been no fun for anyone since
the weather broke."
She gathered her courage in both hands. "And so you're going home?" she
said, and lay in quivering dread of his answer.
He did not make one immediately. He seemed to be considering the matter.
"There doesn't seem to be much point in staying on," he said finally,
"unless things improve."
"But they will improve," said Dinah quickly. "At least--at least they
ought to."
"A fortnight of bad weather isn't particularly encouraging," he remarked.
"Of course it isn't! It's horrid," she agreed. "But every day makes it
less likely that it will last much longer. And I expect it's much worse
in England," she added.
"I wonder," said Sir Eustace. "There's the hunting anyway."
"Oh no; it would freeze directly you got there," she said, with a shaky
little laugh. "And then you would wish you had stayed here."
"I could shoot," said Sir Eustace.
"And there is the Hunt Ball, isn't there?" said Dinah with more
assurance.
He looked at her keenly. "What Hunt Ball?"
She met his eyes with a faint challenge in her own. "I heard you were
going to stay with the de Vignes. They always go to the Hunt Ball every
year."
"Do you go?" asked Sir Eustace.
She shook her head. "No. I never go anywhere."
She saw his eyes soften unexpectedly as he said, "Then there isn't much
inducement for me to go, is there?"
Her heart gave a wild throb of half-incredulous delight. She made a small
movement of one hand towards him, and quite suddenly she found it grasped
in his. He bent to her with a laugh in his eyes.
"Shall we go on with the game,--Daphne?" he whispered. "Are you well
enough?"
Her eyes answered him. Was he not irresistible? "Oh," she whispered, "I
thought--I thought you had forgotten."
He glanced round, as if to make sure that they were alone, and then
swiftly bent and kissed her quivering lips. "But the past has no claims,"
he said. "Remember, it is a game without consequences!"
She laughed very happily, clasping his hand. "I was afraid it was all
over," she said. "But it isn't, is it?"
He laughed too under his breath. "I am under the very strictest orders
not to excite you," he said, passing the question by. "If the doctor were
to come and feel your pulse now, there would be serious trouble. And I
shouldn't be allowed within a dozen yards of you again for many a long
day."
"What nonsense!" murmured Dinah. "Why, you have done me so much good that
I feel almost well." She squeezed his hand with all the strength she
could muster. "Don't go away till I'm quite well!" she begged him
wistfully. "We must have--one more dance."
His eyes kindled suddenly with that fire which she dared not meet. "I
will grant you that," he said, "on condition that you promise--mind, you
promise--not to run away afterwards."
His intensity embarrassed her, she knew not wherefore. "Why--why should I
run away?" she faltered.
"You ran away last time," he said.
"Oh, that was only--only because I was afraid the Colonel might be angry
with me," she murmured.
"Oh well, there is no Colonel to be angry now," he said. "It's a promise
then, is it?"
But for some reason wholly undefined she hesitated. She felt as if she
could not bring herself thus to cut off her own line of retreat. "No, I
don't think I can quite promise that," she said, after a moment.
"You won't?" he said.
His tone warned her to reconsider her decision. "I--I'll tell you
to-morrow," she said hastily.
"I may be gone by to-morrow," he said.
She looked up at him with swift daring. "Oh no, you won't," she said,
with conviction. "Or if you are, you'll come back."
"How do you know that?" he demanded, frowning upon her while his eyes
still gleamed with that lambent fire that made her half afraid.
She dropped her own. "There's someone coming," she whispered. "It doesn't
matter, does it? I do know. Good-bye!"
She slipped her hand from his with a little secret sense of triumph; for
though he had so arrogantly asserted himself she was conscious of a
certain power over him which gave her confidence. She was firmly
convinced in that moment that he would not go.
He rose to leave her as Isabel came softly into the room, and between the
brother and sister there flashed a look that was curiously like the
crossing of blades.
Isabel came straight to Dinah's side. "You must settle down now, dear
child," she said, in that low, musical voice of hers that Dinah loved.
"It is getting late, and you didn't sleep well last night."
Dinah smiled, and drew the hand that had so often smoothed her pillow to
her cheek. But her eyes were upon Eustace, and she caught a parting gleam
from his as with a gesture of farewell he turned away.
"I am much better," she said to Isabel later, as she composed herself to
rest. "I feel as if I am going to sleep well."
Isabel stooped to kiss her. "Sleep is the best medicine in the world,"
she said.
"Do you sleep better now?" Dinah asked, detaining her.
Isabel hesitated for a second. "Oh yes, I sleep," she said then. "I am
able to sleep now that you are safe, my darling."
Dinah clung to her. "I can't think what I would do without you," she
murmured. "No one was ever so good to me before."
Isabel held her closely. "Don't you realize," she said fondly, "that you
have been my salvation."
"Not--not really?" faltered Dinah.
"Yes, really." There was a throb of passion in Isabel's voice. "I have
been a prisoner for years, but you--you, little Dinah,--have set me free.
I am travelling forward again now--like the rest of the world." She
paused a moment, and her arms clasped Dinah more closely still. "I do not
think I have very far to go," she said, speaking very softly. "My night
has been so long that I think the dawn cannot be far off now. God knows
how I am longing for it."
"Oh, darling, don't--don't!" whispered Dinah piteously.
"I won't, dearest." Very tenderly Isabel kissed her again. "I didn't mean
to distress you. Only I want you to know that you are just all the world
to me--the main-spring of what life there is left to me. I shall never
forgive myself for leading you away on that terrible Sunday, and causing
you all this suffering."
"Oh, but I should have been home again by now if that hadn't happened,"
said Dinah quickly. "See what I should have missed! I'd far, far rather
be ill with you than well at home."
"Yours isn't a happy home, sweetheart," Isabel said gently.
"Not very," Dinah admitted. "But being away makes it seem much worse. I
have been so spoilt with you."
Isabel smiled. "I only wish I could keep you always, dear child."
Dinah drew a sharp breath. "Oh, if you only could!" she said.
Isabel pressed her to her heart, and laid her down. "I must get you back
to bed, dear," she said. "We have talked too long already."
Late that night Isabel went softly to the door in answer to a low knock,
and found Scott on the threshold.
She lifted a warning finger. "She is asleep."
"That's right," he said quietly. "I only came to say good night to you.
Are you going to bed now?"
She looked at him with a faint smile in her shadowed eyes. "I daresay I
shall go some time," she said; then seeing the concern in his eyes:
"Don't worry about me, Stumpy dear. I don't sleep a great deal, you know;
but I rest."
He took her arm and drew her gently outside the room. "I want you to take
care of yourself now that she is safe," he said. "Will you try?"
The smile still lingered in her eyes. She bent her stately neck to kiss
him. "Oh yes, dear; I shall be all right," she said. "It does me good to
have the little one to think of."
"I know," he said. "But don't wear yourself out! Remember, you are not
strong."
"Nothing I can do for her would be too much," she answered with quick
feeling. "Think--think what she has done for me!"
"For us all," said Scott gently. "But all the same, dear, you can spare a
little thought for yourself now." He hesitated momentarily, then: "I
think Eustace would like to see more of you," he said, speaking with a
touch of diffidence.
She made a sharp gesture of impatience. "Why did you send him to disturb
the child's peace?"
"She wanted him," said Scott simply.
"Ah!" Isabel stood tense for a second. "And he?" she questioned.
"He was quite pleased to see her again," said Scott.
She grasped his arm suddenly. "Stumpy, don't let him break her heart!"
He met her look with steadfast eyes. "He shall not do that," he said,
with inflexible resolution.
Her hold became a grip. "Can you prevent it? You know what he is"
"Oh yes, I know," very steadily Scott made answer. "But you needn't be
afraid, Isabel. He shall not do that."
A measure of relief came into her drawn face. "Thank you, Stumpy," she
said. "I was horribly afraid--when I saw him just now--and she, poor
child, so innocently glad to have him!"
"You needn't be afraid," he reiterated. "Eustace is too much of a
sportsman to amuse himself at the expense of an unsophisticated child
like that."
Isabel suppressed a shiver. "I don't think he is so scrupulous as you
imagine," she said. "We must watch, Stumpy; we must watch."
He patted her arm with his quiet smile. "And we mustn't let ourselves get
over-anxious," he said. "Now go to bed, like a dear girl! You are looking
absolutely worn out."
Her lips quivered as she smiled back. "At least you are getting better
nights," she said.
"Yes, I sleep very well," he answered. "I want to know you are doing the
same."
Her face shone as though reflecting the lights of a city seen from afar.
"Oh yes, I sleep," she said. "And sometimes I dream that I have really
found the peaks of Paradise. But before I reach the summit--I am awake."
He drew her to him, and kissed her. "It is better that you should wake,
dear," he said.
She returned his kiss with tenderness, but her eyes were fixed and
distant. "Some day the dream will come true, Stumpy," she said softly.
"And I shall find him there where he has been waiting for me all these
years."
"But not yet, Isabel," murmured Scott, and there was pleading in his
voice.
She looked at him for a moment ere she turned to re-enter the room in
which Dinah lay. "Not just yet," she answered softly. "Good night, dear!
Good night!"
The strange light was still upon her face as she went, and Scott looked
after her with a faint, wistful smile about his mouth. As he went to his
own room, he passed his hand across his forehead with a gesture of
unutterable weariness.