Greatheart by Ethel May Dell (top 10 motivational books TXT) 📕

with ye again? She forgot last night. It's likely she may forget again--unless he calls her."
"Biddy!" exclaimed Dinah, startled.
Biddy's beady eyes gleamed mysteriously. "Arrah, but it's the truth I'm telling ye, Miss Dinah. He does call her. I've known him call her when she's been lying in a deep sleep, and she'll rise up with her arms stretched out and that look in her eyes!" Biddy's face crumpled momentarily, but was swiftly straightened again. "Will ye do it then, Miss Dinah? Ye needn't be afraid. I'll be within call. But when she's got you, she don't seem to be craving for anyone else. What was it she called ye only last night? Her good angel! And so ye be, me jewel; so ye be!"
Dinah stood debating the matter. Biddy's expedient was of too temporary an order to recommend itself to her. She wondered why Scott should not be consulted, and it was with some vague intention of laying the matter before him if an opportunity should occur that she finally gave her somewhat hesitating consent.
"I will do it of course, Biddy. I love her to sleep with me. But, you know, it is bound to come out some time, unless you manage to find the letters again. They must be somewhere."
Biddy shook her head. "We must just leave that to the Almighty, Miss Dinah dear," she said piously. "There's nothing else we can do at all. I'll get back to her room now, and when she comes up, I'll tell her ye're feeling lonely, and will she please to sleep with ye again. She won't think of anything else then ye may be sure. Why, she worships the very ground under your feet, mavourneen, like--like someone else I know."
She was gone with the words, leaving upon Dinah a dim impression that her last words were intended to convey something which she would have translated into simpler language had she been at liberty to do so.
She did not pay much attention to them. She was too troubled over her former revelation to think seriously of anything else. Into her mind, all unbidden, had flashed a sudden memory, and it held her like a nightmare-vision. She saw Sir Eustace with that imperious frown on his face holding out Isabel's treasure with a curt, "Take this thing away!" She saw herself leap up and seize it from his intolerant grasp. She saw Isabel's outstretched, pleading hands, and the piteous hunger in her eyes....
When Isabel came to her that night, her face was all softened with mother-love. She drew Dinah to her breast, kissing her very tenderly.
"Did you want me to come and take care of you, my darling?"
Dinah's heart smote her for the deception, but she answered bravely enough, "Oh, Isabel, yes, yes! You are so good to me, I want you always."
"Dear heart!" Isabel said, with a sigh, and folded her closer as though she would guard her against all the world.
She was the first to fall asleep notwithstanding, while Dinah lay motionless and troubled far into the night. She wished that Biddy would give her permission to tell Scott, for without that permission such a step seemed like a betrayal of confidence. But for some reason Biddy evidently thought that Scott had enough on his shoulders just then. And so it seemed, she could only wait--only wait.
She did not want to burden Scott unduly either, and there was something about him just now, something of a repressing nature, that held her back from confiding in him too freely. He seemed to have raised a barrier between them since their return to England which no intimacy ever quite succeeded in scaling. Full of brotherly kindness though he was, the old frank fellowship was gone. It was as though he had realized her dependence upon him, and were trying with the utmost gentleness to make her stand alone.
Dinah slept at last from sheer weariness, and forgot her troubles. She must not tell Scott, she could not tell Eustace, and so there was no other course but silence. But the anxiety of it weighed upon her even through her slumber. Life was far more interesting than of yore. But never, never before had it been so full of doubts and fears. The complexity of it all was like an endless net, enmeshing her however warily she stepped.
And always, and always, at the back of her mind there lurked the dread conviction that one day the net would be drawn close, and she would find herself a helpless prisoner in the grip of a giant.


CHAPTER XII
THE DIVINE SPARK

With the morning Dinah found her anxieties less oppressive. Isabel was becoming so much more like herself that she was able to put the matter from her and in a measure forget it. Like Biddy, she began to hope that by postponing the evil hour they might possibly evade it altogether. For there was nothing abnormal about Isabel during that day or those that succeeded it. The time passed quickly. There was much to be done, much to be discussed and decided, and their thoughts were fully occupied. Dinah felt as one whirled in a torrent. She could not think of the great undercurrent. She could deal only with the things on the surface.
How that week sped away she never afterwards fully recalled. It passed like a fevered dream. Two more journeys to town with Isabel, the ordeal of a dinner at the house of a neighbouring magnate, a much less formidable tea at the Vicarage, on which occasion Mr. Grey drew her aside and thanked her for using her influence over Sir Eustace in the right direction and earnestly exhorted her to maintain and develop it as far as possible when she was married, a few riding-lessons with Scott who always seemed so much more imposing in the saddle than out of it and knew so exactly how to instruct her, a few wild races in Sir Eustace's car from which she always returned in a state of almost delirious exultation, and then night after night the sleep of utter weariness, with Isabel lying by her side.
The last night came upon her almost with a sense of shock. It had become a custom for her to sit in the conservatory with Sir Eustace after dinner, and here with the lights turned low he was wont to pour out to her all the fiery worship which throughout the day he curbed. No one ever disturbed them, but they were close to Isabel's sitting-room where Scott was wont to sit and read while his sister lay on her couch resting and listening. The murmur of his voice was audible to Dinah, and the knowledge of his close proximity gave her a courage which surely had not been hers otherwise. She was learning how to receive her lover's demonstrations without starting away in affright. If he ever startled her, the sound of Scott's voice in the adjoining room would always reassure her. She knew that Scott was at hand and would never fail her.
But on that last night Sir Eustace was more ardent than she had ever known him. He seemed to be almost fiercely resentful of the coming separation, brief though it was to be, and he would not suffer her out of reach of his hand.
Wedding presents had begun to arrive, and in some fashion they seemed to increase his impatience.
"I can't think what we are waiting for," he said, with his arm about her, drawing her close. "All this pomp and circumstance is nothing but a hindrance. It's you I want, not your wedding finery. You had better be married first and get the finery afterwards, as it isn't to be in town."
"Oh, but I want a big wedding," protested Dinah. "It's going to be such fun."
He laughed, holding her pointed chin between his finger and thumb. "I believe that's all you care about, you little heartless witch. I don't count at all. You'd have enjoyed this week every bit as well if I hadn't been here."
She winced a little at his words, for somehow they went home. "There hasn't been much time for anything, has there?" she said. "But--but I've enjoyed the motor rides, and--and I ought to thank you for being so very good to me."
He kissed the quivering lips, and she slipped a shy arm round his neck with the feeling that she owed it to him. But she did not return his kisses, for she was afraid to feed the flame that already leapt so high.
"You've nothing to thank me for," he said presently, when she turned her face at last abashed into his shoulder. "I may be giving more than you at this stage, but it won't be so later. You shall have the opportunity of paying me back in full. How does that appeal to you, Daphne the demure? Are you going to be a good little wife to me?"
"I'll try," she whispered.
"And give me all I ask--always?"
"I'll try," she whispered again more faintly, conscious of that terrifying sense of being so merged into his overwhelming personality that the very breath she drew seemed not her own.
He lifted her into his arms, holding her hard pressed against the throbbing of his heart. "You wisp of thistledown!" he said. "You feather! How have you managed to set me on fire like this? I think of nothing but you--the fairy wonder of you--day and night. If you were to slip out of my reach now, I believe I should follow and kill you."
Dinah lay across his breast in palpitating submission to his will. She could hear his heart beating like a rising tempest, and the force of his passion overcame her like a tornado. His kisses were like the flames of a fiery furnace. She felt stifled, shattered by his violence. But in the room beyond she still heard that steady voice reading aloud, and it kept her from panic. She knew that she had only to raise her own voice, and he would be with her,--Greatheart of the golden armour, strong and fearless in her defence.
Sir Eustace heard that quiet voice also, as one hears the warning of conscience. He slackened his hold upon her, with a quivering, half-shamed laugh.
"Only another fortnight," he said, "and I shall have you to myself--all day and all night too." He looked at her with sudden critical attention. "You had better go to bed, child. You look like a little tired ghost."
She did not feel like a ghost, for she was burning from head to foot. But as she slipped from his arms the ground seemed to be rocking all around her. She stretched out her hands blindly, gasping, feeling for support.
He was up in a moment, holding her. "What is it? Aren't you well?"
She sank against him for she could not stand. He held her with a tenderness that was new to her.
"My darling, have I tired you out? What a thoughtless brute I am!"
It was the first time she had ever heard a word of self-reproach upon his lips; the first time, though she knew it not, that actual love inspired him, entering as it were through that breach in the wall of overbearing pride that girt him round.
She leaned against him with more confidence than she had ever before known, dizzy still, and conscious of a rush of tears behind her closed lids. For that sudden compunction of his hurt her oddly. She did not know how to meet it.
He bent over her. "Getting better, little sweetheart? Oh, don't cry! What happened? Did I hurt you--frighten you?"
He was stroking her hair soothingly, persuasively, his dark face so close to hers that when she opened her eyes they