"What do you wonder?" Dinah looked at him curiously.
But he only smiled a baffling smile, and turned the subject. "Wouldn't you like something to drink before we go up?"
Dinah declined. She was not in the least thirsty. She did not feel as if she would ever want to eat or drink again.
"Only to dance!" said Scott. "Well, I mustn't keep you long then. Who is that lady making signs to you? Hadn't you better go and speak to her?"
"Oh, bother!" said Dinah. "You come too, then. It's only Lady
Grace—Rose's mother. I'm sure it can't be anything important."
Scott piloted her across the vestibule to the couch on which Lady Grace sat. She was a large, fair woman with limpid eyes and drawling speech. She extended a plump white hand to the girl.
"Dinah, my dear, I think you have had almost enough for to-night. And they were so very behind time in starting. Your mother would not like you to stay up late, I feel sure. You had better go to bed when this dance is over. You are not accustomed to dissipation, remember."
A swift cloud came over Dinah's bright face. "Oh, but, Lady Grace, I'm not in the least tired. And I'm not a baby, you know. I'm nearly twenty. I really couldn't go yet."
"You will have plenty more opportunities, dear," said Lady Grace, quite unruffled. "Rose has decided to retire after this dance, and I shall do the same. The Colonel is suffering with dyspepsia, and he does not wish us to be late."
Dinah bit her lip. "Oh, very well," she said somewhat shortly; and to
Scott, "We had better go at once then."
He led her away obediently. They ascended the stairs together.
As they reached the top of the flight Dinah's indignation burst its
bounds. "Isn't it too bad? Why should I go to bed just because the
Colonel's got dyspepsia? I don't believe it's that at all really. It's
Rose who can't bear to think that I am having as good a time—or
Better—than she is."
"May I say what I think?" asked Scott politely.
She stopped, facing him. "Yes, do!"
He was smiling somewhat whimsically. "I think that—like Cinderella—you may break the spell if you stay too long."
"But isn't it too bad?" protested Dinah. "Your brother too—I can't disappoint him."
Scott's smile became a laugh. "Oh, believe me, it would do him good, Miss
Bathurst. He gets his own way much too often."
She smiled, but not very willingly. "It does seem such a shame. He has been—so awfully nice to me."
"That's nothing," said Scott airily. "We can all be nice when we are enjoying ourselves."
Dinah looked at him with sudden attention. "Are you pointing a moral?" she asked severely.
"Trying to," said Scott.
She tried to frown upon him, but very abruptly and completely failed. Her pointed chin went up in a gay laugh. "You do it very nicely," she said. "Thank you, Mr. Studley. I won't be grumpy any more. It would be a pity to break the spell, as you say. Will you explain to the prince?"
"Certainly," he said, leading her on again. "I shall make it quite clear to him that Cinderella was not to blame. Here is our sitting-room at the end of this passage!"
He stopped at the door and would have opened it, but Dinah, smitten with sudden shyness, drew back.
"Hadn't you better go in first and—and explain?" she said.
"Oh no, quite unnecessary," he said, and turned the handle.
At once a woman's voice accosted him. "For the Lord's sake, Master Stumpy, come in quick and shut the door behind ye! The racket downstairs is sending Miss Isabel nearly crazy, poor lamb. And it's meself that's wondering what we'll do to-night, for there's no peace at all in this wooden shanty of a place."
"Be quiet, Biddy!" Scott's voice made calm, undaunted answer. "You can go if you like. I've come to sit with Miss Isabel for a while. And I've brought her a visitor. Isabel, my dear, I've brought you a visitor."
Dinah moved forward in response to his gentle insistence, but her shyness went with her. She was aware of something intangible in the atmosphere that startled, that almost frightened, her.
The gaunt figure of a woman clad in a long, white robe sat at a table in the middle of the room with a sheaf of letters littered before her. Her emaciated arms were flung wide over them, her white head was bowed.
But at Scott's quiet announcement, it was raised with the suddenness of eager expectancy. For the fraction of a second Dinah saw dark, sunken eyes ablaze with a hope that was almost terrible in its intensity.
It was gone on the instant. They looked at her with a species of dull wonder. "Are you a friend of Scott's? I am very pleased to meet you," a hollow voice said.
A thin hand was extended to her, and as Dinah clasped it a sudden great pity surged through her, dispelling her doubt. Something in her responded swiftly, even passionately, to the hunger of those eyes. The moment's shock passed from her like a cloud.
"My sister Mrs. Everard," said Scott's voice at her shoulder. "Isabel, this is Miss Bathurst of whom I was telling you."
"You lent me your jewels," said Dinah, looking into the wasted face with a sympathy at her heart that was almost too poignant to be borne. "Thank you so very, very much for them! It was so very kind of you to lend them to a total stranger like me."
The strange eyes were gazing at her with a curious, growing interest. A faint, faint smile was in their depths. "Are we strangers, child?" the low voice asked. "I feel as if we had met before. Why do you look at me so kindly? Most people only stare."
Dinah was suddenly conscious of a hot sensation at the throat that made her want to cry. "It is you who have been kind," she said, and her little hand closed with confidence upon the limp, cold fingers. "I am wearing your things still, and I have had such a lovely time. Thank you again for letting me have them. I am going to return them now."
"You need not do that." Isabel spoke with her eyes still fixed upon the girlish face. "Keep them if you like them! I shall never wear them again. They tell me—they tell me—I am a widow."
"Miss Isabel darlint!" Biddy spoke sibilantly from the background. "Don't be talking to the young lady of such things! Won't ye sit down then, miss? And maybe I can get ye a cup o' tay."
"Ah, do, Biddy!" Scott put in his quiet word. "There is no tea like yours. Isabel, Miss Bathurst is a keen dancer. She and Eustace have been most energetic. It was a pity you couldn't come down and see the fun."
"Oh! Did you enjoy it?" Isabel still looked into the brown, piquant face as though loth to turn her eyes away.
"I loved it," said Dinah.
"Was Eustace kind to you?"
"Oh, most kind." Dinah spoke with candid enthusiasm.
"I am glad of that," Isabel's voice held a note of satisfaction. "But I should think everyone is kind to you, child," she said, with her faint, glimmering smile. "How beautiful you are!"
"Me!" Dinah opened her eyes in genuine astonishment. "Oh you wouldn't think so if you saw me in my ordinary dress," she said. "I'm nothing at all to look at really. It's just a case of 'Fine feathers,'—nothing else."
"My dear," Isabel said, "I am not looking at your dress. I seldom notice outer things. I am looking through your eyes into your soul. It is that that makes you beautiful. I think it is the loveliest thing that I have ever seen."
"Oh, you wouldn't say so if you