THE CAPTIVE
Isabel uttered no reproaches to her charge as, quivering with shame, she
returned from her escapade. She exchanged no more than a low "Good
night!" with Scott, and then turned back into the room with Dinah. But as
the latter stood before her, crest-fallen and humiliated, expecting a
reprimand, she only laid very gentle hands upon her and began to unfasten
her dress.
"I wasn't spying upon you, dear child," she said. "I only looked in to
see if you would care for a cup of milk last thing."
That broke Dinah utterly and overwhelmingly. In her contrition, she cast
herself literally at Isabel's feet. "Oh, what a beast I am! What a
beast!" she sobbed. "Will you ever forgive me? I shall never forgive
myself!"
Isabel was very tender with her, checking her wild outburst with loving
words. She asked no question as to what had been happening, for which
forbearance Dinah's gratitude was great even though it served to
intensify her remorse. With all a mother's loving care she soothed her,
assuring her of complete forgiveness and understanding.
"I did wild things in my own girlhood," she said. "I know what it means,
dear, when temptation comes."
And so at last she calmed her agitation, and helped her to bed, waiting
upon her with the utmost gentleness, saying no word of blame or even of
admonition.
Not till she had gone, did it dawn upon Dinah that this task had probably
been left to Scott, and with the thought a great dread of the morrow came
upon her. Though he had betrayed no hint of displeasure, she felt
convinced that she had incurred it; and all her new-born shyness in his
presence, returned upon her a thousandfold. She did not know how she
would face him when the morning came.
He would not be angry she knew. He would not scold her like Colonel de
Vigne. But yet she shrank from the thought of his disappointment in her
as she had never before shrunk from the Colonel's rebuke. She was sure
that she had forfeited his good opinion for ever, and many and bitter
were the tears that she shed over her loss.
Her thoughts of Eustace were of too confused a nature to be put into
coherent form. The moment they turned in his direction her brain became a
flashing whirl in which doubts, fears, and terrible ectasies ran wild
riot. She lay and trembled at the memory of his strength, exulting almost
in the same moment that he had stooped with such mastery to possess her.
His magnificence dazzled her, deprived her of all powers of rational
judgment. She only realized that she--and she alone--had been singled out
of the crowd for that fiery worship; and it seemed to her that she had
been created for that one splendid purpose.
But always the memory of Scott shot her triumph through with a regret so
poignant as to deprive it of all lasting rapture. She had hurt him, she
had disappointed him; she did not know how she would ever look him in the
eyes again.
Her sleep throughout that last night was broken and unrefreshing, and
ever the haunting strains of _Simple Aveu_ pulsed through her brain like
a low voice calling her perpetually, refusing to be stilled. Only one
night more and she would be back in her home; this glittering, Alpine
dream would be over, never to return. And again she turned on her pillow
and wept. It was so hard, so hard, to go back.
In the morning she arose white-faced and weary, with dark shadows under
her eyes, and a head that throbbed tormentingly. She breakfasted with
Isabel in the latter's room, and was again deeply grateful to her friend
for forbearing to comment upon her subdued manner. She could not make any
pretence at cheerfulness that day, being in fact still so near to tears
that she could scarcely keep from breaking down.
"Don't wait for me, dear!" Isabel said gently at length. "I see you are
not hungry. We are taking some provisions with us; perhaps you will feel
more like eating presently."
Dinah escaped very thankfully and returned to her own room.
Here she remained for awhile till more sure of herself; then Biddy came
in to finish her packing and she slipped away to avoid the old woman's
shrewd observation. She feared to go downstairs lest she should meet
Scott; but presently, as she hovered in the passage, she heard his
halting tread in the main corridor.
He was evidently on his way to his sister's room, and seizing her
opportunity, she ran like a hare in the opposite direction and managed to
slip downstairs without adventure.
She was not to escape unnoticed, however. The first person she
encountered in the vestibule came forward instantly at sight of her with
the promptitude of one who has been lying in wait.
She recoiled with a gasp, but she could not run away. She was caught as
surely as she had been the night before.
"Hullo!" smiled Sir Eustace, with extended hand. "Going out for a last
look round? May I come too?"
She felt the dominance of his grip. It was coolly, imperially possessive.
To answer his request seemed superfluous, even bordering upon
presumption. It was obvious that he had every intention of accompanying
her.
She gave a confused murmur of assent, and they passed through the
vestibule side by side. She was conscious of curious glances from several
strangers who were standing about, and Eustace exchanged a few words with
a species of regal condescension here and there as they went. And then
they were out in the pure sunlight of the mountains, alone for the last
time in their paradise of snow.
Almost instinctively Dinah turned up the winding track. They had half an
hour before them, and she felt she could not bear to stand still. He
strolled beside her, idly smoking, not troubling to make conversation,
now as ever sublimely at his ease.
The snow sparkled around them like a thousand gems Dinah's eyes were
burning and smarting with the brightness. And still that tender
waltz-music ran lilting through her brain, drifting as it were through
the mist of her unshed tears.
Suddenly he spoke. They were nearing the pine-wood and quite alone. "Is
there anything the matter?"
She choked down a great lump in her throat before she could speak in
answer. "No," she murmured then. "I--I am just--rather low about leaving;
that's all."
"Quite all?" he said.
His tone was so casual, so normal, that it seemed impossible now to think
of last night's happening save as an extravagant dream. She almost felt
for the moment as if she had imagined it all. And then he spoke again,
and she caught a subtle note of tenderness in his voice that brought
it all back upon her in an overwhelming rush.
"That's really all, is it? You're not unhappy about anything else? Scott
hasn't been bullying you?"
She gasped at the question. "Oh no! Oh no! He wouldn't! He couldn't!
I--haven't even seen him today."
He received the information in silence; but in a moment or two he tossed
away his cigarette with the air of a man having come to an abrupt
resolution.
"And so you're fretting about going home?" he said.
She nodded mutely. The matter would not bear discussion.
"Poor little Daphne!" he said. "It's been a good game, hasn't it?"
She nodded again. "Just like the dreams that never come true," she
managed to say.
"Would you like it to come true?" he asked her unexpectedly.
She glanced up at him with a woeful little smile. "It's no good thinking
of that, is it?" she said.
"I have an idea we could make it come true between us," he said.
She shook her head. That brief glimpse of his intent eyes had sent a
sudden and overwhelming wave of shyness through her. She remembered again
the fiery holding of his arms, and was afraid.
He paused in his walk and turned aside to the railing that bounded the
side of the track above the steep, pine-covered descent. "Wish hard
enough," he said, "and all dreams come true!"
Dinah went with him as if compelled. She leaned against the railing, glad
of the support, while he sat down upon it. His attitude was supremely
easy and self-possessed.
"Do you know, Daphne," he said, "I've taken a fancy to that particular
dream myself? Now I've caught you, I don't see myself letting you go
again."
Her heart throbbed at his words. She bent her head, fixing her eyes upon
the rough wood upon which she leaned.
"But it's no good, is it?" she said, almost below her breath. "I've just
got to go."
He put his hand on her shoulder, and she was conscious afresh of the
electricity of his touch. She shrank a little--a very little; for she was
frightened, albeit curiously aware of a magnetism that drew her
irresistibly.
"Yes, I suppose you've got to go," he said. "But--there's nothing to
prevent me following you, is there?"
She quivered from head to foot. That hand upon her shoulder sent such a
tumult of emotions through her that she could not collect her thoughts in
any coherent order. "I--I don't know," she whispered, bending her head
still lower. "They--I don't know what they would say at home."
"Your people?" His hand was drawing her now with an insistent pressure
that would not be denied. "They'd probably dance on their heads with
delight," he said, his tone one of slightly supercilious humour. "I
assure you I am considered something of a catch by a good many anxious
mammas."
She started at that, started and straightened herself, lifting shy eyes
to his. "Oh, but we've only been--playing," she said rather uncertainly.
"Just--just pretending to flirt, that's all."
He laughed, bending his handsome, imperious face to hers. "It's been a
fairly solid pretence, hasn't it?" he said. "But I'm proposing something
slightly different now. I'm offering you my hand--as well as my heart."
Dinah was trembling all over. She gasped for breath, drawing back
slightly from the nearness of his lips. "Do you mean--you'd like--to
marry me?" she whispered tremulously, and hid her face on the instant;
for the bald words sounded preposterous.
He laughed again, softly, half-mockingly, and drew her into his arms.
"Whatever made you think of that, my elf of the mountains? I'll vow it
came into your head first. Ah, you needn't hide your eyes from me. I know
you're mine--all mine. I've known it from the first--ever since you began
to run away. But I've caught you now. Haven't I? Haven't I?"
She clung to him desperately. It seemed the only way; for she was for the
moment swept off her feet, terribly afraid of arousing that storm of
passion which had so overwhelmed her the night before. Instinct warned
her what to expect if she attempted to withdraw herself. Moreover, the
tumult of her feeling was such that she did not want to do so. She wanted
only to hide her head for a space, and be still.
He pressed her close, still laughing at her shyness. "What a good thing
I'm not shy!" he said. "If I were, to-day would be the end of everything
instead of the beginning. Can't you bring yourself to look at your new
possession? Did you think you could laugh and run away for all time?"
Then, as in muffled accents she besought him to be patient with her, he
softened magically and for the first time spoke of love.
"Don't you know you have wrenched the very heart out of me, you little
brown witch? I loved you from the very first moment of our dance
together. You've been too much for me all through. I had to have you. I
simply had to have you."
She trembled afresh at his words, but she clung closer. If the fear
deepened, so also did the fascination. She tried to picture him as
hers--hers, and failed. He was so fine, so splendid, so much too big for
her.
He went on, dropping his voice lower, his breath warm upon her neck. "Are
you going to take all and give--nothing, Daphne? Did they make you
without a heart, I wonder? Like a robin that mates afresh a dozen times
in a season? Haven't you anything to give me, little sweetheart? Are you
going to keep me waiting for a long, long time, and then send me empty
away?"
That moved her. That he should stoop to plead with her seemed so amazing,
almost a fabulous state of affairs.
With a little sob, she lifted her face at last. "Oh, Apollo!" she said
brokenly. "Apollo the magnificent! I am all yours--all yours! But
don't--don't take too much--at a time!"
The plea must have touched him, accompanied as it was by that full
surrender. He held her a moment, looking down into her eyes with the
fiery possessiveness subdued to a half-veiled tenderness in his own.
Then, very gently, even with reverence, he bent his face to hers. "Give
me--just what you can spare, then, little sweetheart!" he said. "I can
always come again for more now."
She slipped her arms around his neck, and shyly, childishly, she kissed
the lips that had devoured her own so mercilessly the night before.
"Yes--yes, I will always give you more!" she said tremulously.
He took her face between his hands and kissed her in return, not
violently, but with confidence. "That seals you for my very own," he
said. "You will never run away from me again?"
But she would not promise that. The memory of the previous night still
scorched her intolerably whenever her thoughts turned that way.
"I shan't want to run away if--if you stay as you are now," she told him
confusedly.
He laughed in his easy way. "Oh, Daphne, I shall have a lot to teach you
when we are married. How soon do you think you can be ready?"
She started in his hold at the question, and then quickly gave herself
fully back to him again. "I don't know a bit. You'll have to ask mother.
P'raps--she may not allow it at all."
"Ho! Won't she?" said Sir Eustace. "I think I know better. What about
that trip on the yacht in July? Can you be ready in time for that?"
"Oh, I expect I could be ready sooner than that," said Dinah naïvely.
"You could?" He smiled upon her. "Well, next week then! What do you say
to next week?"
But she shrank again at that. "Oh no! Not possibly! Not possibly!
You--you're laughing!" She looked at him accusingly.
He caught her to him. "You baby! You innocent! Yes, I'm going to kiss
you. Where will you have it? Just anywhere?"
He held her and kissed her, still laughing, yet with a heat that made her
flinch involuntarily; kissed the pointed chin and quivering lips, the
swift-shut eyes and soft cheeks, the little, trembling dimple that came
and went.
"Yes, you are mine--all mine," he said. "Remember, I have a right to you
now that no one else has. Not all the mammas in the world could come
between us now."
She laughed, half-exultantly, half-dubiously, peeping at him through her
lowered lashes. "I wonder if you'll still say that when--when you've
seen--my mother," she murmured.
He kissed her again, kissed anew the dimples that showed and vanished so
alluringly. "You will see presently, my Daphne," he said. "But I'm going
to have you, you know. That's quite understood, isn't it?"
"Yes," whispered Dinah, with docility.
"No more running away," he insisted. "That's past and done with."
She gave him a fleeting smile. "I couldn't if--if I wanted to."
"I'm glad you realize that," he said.
She clung to him suddenly with a little movement that was almost
convulsive. "Oh, are you sure--quite sure--that you wouldn't rather marry
Rose de Vigne?"
He uttered his careless laugh. "My dear child, there are plenty of
Roses in the world. There is only one--Daphne--Daphne, the fleet of
foot--Daphne, the enchantress!"
She clung to him a little faster. "And there is only one Apollo," she
murmured. "Apollo the magnificent!"
"We seem to be quite a unique couple," laughed Eustace, with his lips
upon her hair.