THE TRUE GOLD
The actual turning-point in Dinah's illness seemed to date from that
brief interview with Sir Eustace. They had drawn her back half against
her will from the land of shadows, but from that day her will was set to
recover. The old elasticity came back to her, and with every hour her
strength increased. The joy of life was hers once more. She was like a
flower opening to the sun.
Sir Eustace presented himself every evening for admittance and sat with
her for a little while. Isabel was generally present, and their
conversation was in consequence of a strictly commonplace order; but the
keen blue eyes told Dinah more than the proud lips ever uttered. She came
to watch for that look which she could not meet, and though at times it
sent a wild dart of fear through her, yet it filled her also with a
rapture indefinable but unspeakably precious. She felt sure that he had
never turned that look on Rose or any other girl. It was kept exclusively
for her, and its fiery intensity thrilled her soul. It was the sign of a
secret understanding between them which she believed none other
suspected.
It was a somewhat terrible joy, for the man's strength had startled her
more than once, but in moments of dread she reassured herself with the
memory of his reiterated declaration that the magic bond that existed
between them was no bond at all in reality--only a game without
consequences. She would not look forward to the time when that game
should be over. She was not looking forward at all, so sublimely happy
was she in the present. The period of convalescence which to most
patients is the hardest of all to bear was to her a dream of delight.
A week after the departure of the de Vignes she was well enough to be
moved into Isabel's sitting-room, and here on that first day both Sir
Eustace and Scott joined them at tea.
The weather had cleared again, and Sir Eustace came in from an
afternoon's ski-ing attired in the white sweater in which Dinah always
loved to see him. She lay on her couch and watched him with shining eyes,
telling herself that no prince had ever looked more royal.
It was Scott who waited upon her, but she was scarcely aware of his
presence. Even Isabel seemed to have faded into the background. She could
think only of Eustace lounging near her in careless magnificence, talking
in his deep voice of the day's sport.
"There are several new people arrived," he said, "both ancient and
modern. The place was getting empty, but it has filled up again. There is
to be a dance to-night," his eyes sought Dinah's. "I am going down
presently to see if any of the new-comers have any talents worth
cultivating."
She met his look with a flash of daring. "I wish you luck," she said.
He made her a bow. "You are very generous. But I scarcely expect any. My
star has not been in the ascendant for a long time."
Scott uttered a laugh that sounded faintly derisive. "You'll have to make
the best of the second best for once, my dear chap," he said. "You can't
always have your cake iced."
Eustace glanced at him momentarily. "I am not you, Stumpy," he said. "The
philosophy of the second best is only for those who have never tasted the
best."
There was in his tone a touch of malice that caught Dinah very oddly,
like the flick of a lash intended for another. She awoke very suddenly to
the realization of Scott sitting near Isabel with the light shining on
his pale face and small, colourless beard. How insignificant he looked!
And yet the narrow shoulders had an independent set about them as though
they were not without a certain strength.
The smile still lingered about his lips as he made quiet rejoinder. "It
sometimes needs a philosopher to tell what is the best."
Eustace gave an impatient shrug. "The philosopher is not always a wise
man," he observed briefly.
"But seldom an utter fool," returned Scott.
The elder brother's face was contemptuous as he said, "A philosopher may
recognize what is best, but it is seldom within his reach."
"And so, being a philosopher, he does without it." Scott spoke
thoughtfully; he was gazing straight before him.
Isabel suddenly leaned forward. "He is not always the loser, Stumpy," she
said.
He looked at her. "Certainly a man can't lose what he has never had," he
said.
"Every man has his chance once," she insisted.
"And--if he's a philosopher--he doesn't take it," laughed Eustace. "Don't
you know, my dear Isabel, that that is the very cream and essence of
philosophy?"
She gave him a swift look that was an open challenge. "What do you know
of philosophy and the greater things of life?" she said.
He looked momentarily surprised. Dinah saw the ready frown gather on his
handsome face; but before he could speak Scott intervened.
"How on earth did we get onto this abstruse subject?" he said easily.
"Miss Bathurst will vote us all a party of bores, and with reason. What
were we talking about before? Iced cake, wasn't it? Are you a cook Miss
Bathurst?"
"I can make some kinds of cakes," Dinah said modestly, "but I like making
pastry best. I often make sausage-rolls for Dad to take hunting."
"That sounds more amusing for him than for you," observed Eustace.
"Oh no, I love making them," she assured him. "And he always says he
likes mine better than anyone's. But I'm not a particularly good cook
really. Mother generally does that part, and I do all the rest."
"All?" said Isabel.
"Yes. You see, we can't afford to keep a servant," said Dinah. "And I
groom Rupert--that's the hunter--too, when Billy isn't at home. I like
doing that. He's such a beauty."
"Do you ever ride him?" asked Eustace.
She shook her head. "No. I'd love to, of course, but there's never any
time. I can't spend as long as I like over grooming him because there are
so many other things. But he generally looks very nice," she spoke with
pride; "quite as nice as any of the de Vignes's horses."
"You must have a very busy time of it," said Scott.
"Yes." Dinah's bright face clouded a little. "I often wish I had more
time for other things; but it's no good wishing. Anyway, I've had my time
out here, and I shall never forget it."
"You must come out again with us," said Isabel.
Dinah beamed. "Oh, how I should love it!" she said. "But--" her face fell
again--"I don't believe mother will ever spare me a second time."
"All right. I'll run away with you in the yacht," said Eustace. "Come for
a trip in the summer!"
She looked at him with shining eyes. "It's not a bit of good thinking
about it," she said. "But oh, how lovely it would be!"
He laughed, looking at her with that gleam in his eyes that she had come
to know as exclusively her own. "Where there's a will, there's a way," he
said. "If you have the will, you can leave the way to me."
She drew a quick breath. Her heart was beating rather fast. "All right,"
she said. "I'll come."
"Is it a promise?" said Eustace.
She shook her head instantly. "No. I never make promises. They have a way
of spoiling things so."
"Exactly my own idea," he said. "Never turn a pleasure into a duty, or it
becomes a burden at once. Well, I must go and make myself pretty for this
evening's show. If I'm very bored, I shall come and sit out with you."
"Not to-night," said Isabel with quick decision. "Dinah is going to bed
very soon."
"Really?" He stood by Dinah's couch, looking down at her with his faint
supercilious smile. "Do you submit to that sort of tyranny?" he said.
She held up her hand to him. "It isn't tyranny. It is the very dearest
kindness in the world. Don't you know the difference?"
He held the little, confiding hand a moment or two, and she felt his
fingers close around it with a strength that seemed as if it encompassed
her very soul. "There are two ways of looking at everything," he said.
"But I shouldn't be too docile if I were you; not, that is, if you want
to get any fun out of life. Remember, life is short."
He let her go with the words, straightened himself to his full, splendid
height, and sauntered with regal arrogance to the door.
"I want you, Stumpy," he said, in passing. "There are one or two letters
for you to deal with. You can come to my room while I dress."
"In that case, I had better say good night too," said Scott, rising.
"Oh no," said Dinah, with her quick smile. "You can come in and say good
night to me afterwards--when I'm in bed. Can't he, Isabel?"
She had fallen into the habit of calling Isabel by her Christian name
from hearing Scott use it. It had begun almost in delirium, and now it
came so naturally that she never dreamed of reverting to the more formal
mode of address.
Scott smiled in his quiet fashion, and turned to join his brother. "I
will with pleasure," he said.
Eustace threw a mocking glance backwards. "It seems that philosophers
rush in where mere ordinary males fear to tread," he observed. "Stumpy,
allow me to congratulate you on your privileges!"
"Thanks, old chap!" Scott made answer in his tired voice. "But there is
no occasion for the ordinary male to envy me my compensations."
"What did he mean by that?" said Dinah, as the door closed.
Isabel moved to her side and sat down on the edge of the couch. "Scott is
very lonely, little one," she said.
"Is he?" said Dinah, wonderingly. "But--surely he must have lots of
friends. He's such a dear."
Isabel smiled at her rather sadly. "Yes, everyone who knows him thinks
that."
"Everyone must love him," protested Dinah. "Who could help it?"
"I wonder," said Isabel slowly, "if he will ever meet anyone who will
love him best of all."
Dinah was suddenly conscious of a rush of blood to her face. She knew not
wherefore, but she felt it beat in her temples and sing in her ears. "Oh,
surely--surely!" she stammered in confusion.
Isabel looked beyond her. "You know, Dinah," she said, her voice very
low, "Scott is a man with an almost infinite greatness of soul. I don't
know if you realize it. I have thought sometimes that you did. But there
are very few--very few--who do."
"I know he is great," whispered Dinah. "I told him so almost--almost the
first time I saw him."
Isabel's smile was very tender. She stooped and gathered Dinah to her
bosom. "Oh, my dear," she murmured, "never prefer the tinsel to the true
gold! He is far, far the greatest man I know. And you--you will never
meet a greater."
Dinah clung to her in quick responsiveness. Her strange agitation was
subsiding, but she could feel the blood yet pulsing in her veins. "I know
it," she whispered. "I am sure of it. He is very much to you, dear, isn't
he?"
"For years he has been my all," Isabel said. "Listen a moment! I will
tell you something. In the first dreadful days of my illness, I was crazy
with trouble, and--and they bound me to keep me from violence. I have
never forgotten it. I never shall. Then--he came. He was very young at
that time, only twenty-three. He had his life before him, and mine--mine
was practically over. Yet he gave up everything--everything for my sake.
He took command; he banished all the horrible people who had taken
possession of me. He gave me freedom, and he set himself to safe-guard
me. He brought me home. He was with me night and day, or if not actually
with me, within call. He and Biddy between them brought me back. They
watched me, nursed me, cared for me. Whenever my trouble was greater than
I could bear, he was always there to help me. He never left me; and
gradually he became so necessary to me that I couldn't contemplate life
without him. I have been terribly selfish." A low sob checked her
utterance for a moment, and Dinah's young arms tightened. "I let my grief
take hold of me to the exclusion of everything else. I didn't see--I
didn't realize--the sacrifice he was making. For years I took it all as a
right, living in my fog of misery and blind to all beside. But now--now
at last--thanks to you, little one, whom I nearly killed--my eyes are
open once more. The fog has rolled away. No, I can never be happy. I am
of those who wait. But I will never again, God helping me, deprive others
of happiness. Scott shall live his own life now. His devotion to me must
come to an end. My greatest wish in life now is that he may meet a woman
worthy of him, who will love him as he deserves to be loved, before I
climb the peaks of Paradise and find my beloved in the dawning." Isabel's
voice sank. She pressed Dinah close against her heart. "It will not be
long," she whispered. "I have had a message that there is no mistaking, I
know it will not be long. But oh, darling, I do want to see him happy
first."
Dinah was crying softly. She could find no words to utter.
So for awhile they clung together, the woman who had suffered and come at
last through bitter tribulation into peace, and the child whose feet yet
halted on the threshold of the enchanted country that the other had long
since traversed and left behind.
Nothing further passed between them. Isabel had said her say, and for
some reason Dinah was powerless to speak. She could think of no words to
utter, and deep in her heart she was half afraid to break the silence.
That sudden agitation of hers had left her oddly confused and
embarrassed. She shrank from pursuing the matter further.
Yet for a long time that night she lay awake pondering, wondering.
Certainly Scott was different from all other men, totally, undeniably
different. He seemed to dwell on a different plane. She could not grasp
what it was about him that set him thus apart. But what Isabel had said
showed her very clearly that the spirit that dwelt behind that unimposing
exterior was a force that counted, and could hold its own against odds.
She slept at last with the thought of him still present in her mind. And
in her dreams the vision of Greatheart in his shining armour came to her
again, filling her with a happiness which even sleeping she did not dare
to analyse, scarcely to contemplate.