Greatheart - Ethel May Dell (the lemonade war series TXT) 📗

I landed you in this mess."
Something in his tone touched her. She laid a small shy hand upon his knee. "It was--dear of you, Scott," she said very earnestly. "Thank you--ever so much--for what you did."
He put his hand on hers. "My dear, I would have given all I had to have undone it afterwards. It is very generous of you to take it like that. I have often wanted to kick myself since."
"Then you must never want to again," she said. "Do you know I'm so glad you've told me? It was so--fine of you--to do that for me. I'm sure you couldn't have wanted me for a sister-in-law even then."
"I wanted you to be happy," Scott reiterated.
She uttered a quick sigh. "Happiness isn't everything, is it?"
"Not everything, no," he said.
She grasped his hand hard. "I'm going to try to be good instead," she said. "Will you help me?"
He smiled at her somewhat sadly. "If you think my help worth having," he said.
"But of course it is," she made warm answer. "You are the strong man who helps everyone. You are--Greatheart."
He looked at her still smiling and slowly shook his head. "Now, if you don't mind," he said, "I will write my note to Isabel."


CHAPTER XXII
SPOKEN IN JEST

The afternoon was well advanced when Scott returned to Perrythorpe Court. No sounds of revelry greeted him as he entered. A blazing fire was burning in the hall, but no one was there to enjoy the warmth. The gay crowd that had clustered before the great hearth only yesterday had all dispersed. The place was empty.
"Can I get you anything, sir?" enquired the man who admitted him.
His voice was sepulchral. Scott smiled a little. "Yes, please. A whisky and soda. Where is everybody?"
"The Colonel and Miss Rose went out riding, sir, after the guests had all gone, and they have not yet returned. Her ladyship is resting in her room."
"Everyone gone but me?" questioned Scott, with a whimsical lift of the eyebrows.
The man bent his head decorously. "I believe so, sir. There was a general feeling that it would be more fitting as the marriage was not to take place as arranged. I understand, sir, that the family will shortly migrate to town."
"Really?" said Scott.
He bent over the fire, for the evening was chilly, and he was tired to the soul. The man coughed and withdrew. Again the silence fell.
A face he knew began to look up at Scott out of the leaping flames--a face that was laughing and provocative one moment, wistful and tear-stained the next.
He heaved a sigh as he followed the fleeting vision. "Will she ever be happy again?" he asked himself.
The last sight he had had of her had cut him to the heart. She had conquered her tears at last, but her smile was the saddest thing he had ever seen. It was as though her vanished childhood had suddenly looked forth at him and bidden him farewell. He felt that he would never see the child Dinah again.
The return of the servant with his drink brought him back to his immediate surroundings. He sat down in an easy-chair before the fire to mix it.
The man turned to go, but he had not reached the end of the hall when the front-door bell rang again. He went soft-footed to answer it.
Scott glanced over his shoulder as the door opened, and heard his own name.
"Is Mr. Studley here?" a man's voice asked.
"Yes, sir. Just here, sir," came the answer, and Scott rose with a weary gesture.
"Oh, here you are!" Airily Guy Bathurst advanced to meet him. "Don't let me interrupt your drink! I only want a few words with you."
"I'll fetch another glass, sir" murmured the discreet man-servant, and vanished.
Scott stood, stiff and uncompromising, by his chair. There was a hint of hostility in his bearing. "What can I do for you?" he asked.
Bathurst ignored his attitude with that ease of manner of which he was a past-master. "Well I thought perhaps you could give me news of Dinah" he said. "Billy tells me he left you with her this morning."
"I see" said Scott. He looked at the other man with level, unblinking eyes. "You are beginning to feel a little anxious about her?" he questioned.
"Well, I think it's about time she came home," said Bathurst. He took out a cigarette and lighted it. "Her mother is wondering what has become of her," he added, between the puffs.
"I posted a letter to Mrs. Bathurst about an hour ago," said Scott. "She will get it in the morning."
"Indeed!" Bathurst glanced at him. "And is her whereabouts to remain a mystery until then?"
"That letter will reassure you as to her safety," Scott returned quietly. "But it will not enlighten you as to her whereabouts. She is in good hands, and it is not her intention to return home--at least for the present. Under the circumstances you could scarcely compel her to do so."
"I never compel her to do anything," said Bathurst comfortably. "Her mother keeps her in order, I have nothing to do with it."
"Evidently not." A sudden sharp quiver of scorn ran through Scott's words. "Her mother may make her life a positive hell, but it's no business of yours!"
A flicker of temper shone for a second in Bathurst's eyes. The scorn had penetrated even his thick skin. "None whatever," he said deliberately. "Nor of yours either, so far as I can see."
"There you are wrong." Hotly Scott took him up. "It is the duty of every man to prevent cruelty. Dinah has been treated like a bond-slave all her life. What were you about to allow it?"
He flung the question fiercely. The man's careless repudiation of all responsibility aroused in him a perfect storm of indignation. He was probably more angry at that moment than he had ever been before.
Guy Bathurst stared at him for a second or two, his own resentment quenched in amazement. Finally he laughed.
"If you were married to my wife, you'd know," he said. "Personally I like a quiet life. Besides, discipline is good for youngsters. I think Lydia is disposed to carry it rather far, I admit. But after all, a woman can't do much damage to her own daughter. And anyhow it isn't a man's business to interfere."
He broke off as the servant reappeared, and seated himself in a chair on the other side of the fire. He drank some whisky and water in large, appreciative gulps, and resumed his cigarette.
"If Dinah had seriously wanted to get away from it, she should have married your brother," he said then. "It was her own doing entirely, this last affair. A girl shouldn't jilt her lover at the last moment if she isn't prepared to face the consequences. She knows her mother's temper by this time, I should imagine. She might have guessed what was in store for her." He looked across at Scott as one seeking sympathy. "You'll admit it was a tomfool thing to do," he said. "I don't wonder at her mother wanting to make her smart for it. I really don't. Dinah ought to have known her own mind."
"She knows it now," said Scott grimly.
"Yes. So it appears. By the way, have you any idea what induced her to throw your brother over in that way just at the last minute? It would be interesting to know."
"Did she give you no reason?" said Scott. He hated parleying with the man, but something impelled him thereto.
Guy Bathurst leaning back at his ease with his cigarette between his lips, uttered a careless laugh. "She seemed to think she wasn't in love with him. We couldn't get any more out of her than that. As a matter of fact her mother was too furious to attempt it. But there must have been some other reason. I wondered if you knew what it was."
"I shouldn't have thought it essential that there should have been any other reason," Scott said deliberately. "If there is--I am not in her confidence."
He was still on his feet as if he wished it to be clearly understood that he did not intend their conversation to develop into anything of the nature of friendly intercourse.
Bathurst continued to smoke, but a faint air of insolence was apparent in his attitude. He was not accustomed to being treated with contempt, and the desire awoke within him to find some means of disconcerting this undersized whippersnapper who had almost succeeded in making him feel cheap.
"You haven't been making love to her on your own account by any chance, I suppose?" he enquired lazily.
Scott's eyes flashed upon him a swift and hawk-like regard, and the hauteur that so often characterized his brother suddenly descended upon him and clothed him as a mantle.
"I have not," he said.
"Quite sure?" persisted Bathurst, still amiably smiling. "It's my belief she's smitten with you, you know. I've thought so all along. Funny idea, isn't it? Never occurred to you of course?"
Scott made no reply, but his silence was more scathing than speech. It served to arouse all the rancour of which Bathurst's indolent nature was capable.
"No accounting for women's preference, is there?" he said. "You ought to feel vastly flattered, my good sir. It isn't many women would put you before that handsome brother of yours. How did you work it, eh? Come, you're caught! So you may as well own up."
Scott shrugged his shoulders abruptly, disdainfully, and turned from him. "If you choose to amuse yourself at your daughter's expense, I cannot prevent you," he said. "But there is not a grain of truth in your insinuation. I repudiate it absolutely."
"My dear fellow, that's a bit thick," laughed Bathurst; he had found the vulnerable spot, and he meant to make the most of it. "Do you actually expect me to believe that you won her away from your brother without knowing it? That's rather a tough proposition, too tough for my middle-aged digestion. You've been trifling with her young affections, but you are not man enough to own it."
"You are wrong, utterly wrong," Scott said. He restrained himself with difficulty; for still something was at work within him urging him to be temperate. "Dinah has never dreamed of falling in love with me. As you say, the bare idea is manifestly absurd."
"Then who is she in love with?" demanded Bathurst, with lazy insistence. "You're the only other man she knows, and there's certainly someone. No girl would throw up such a catch as your brother for the mere sentiment of the thing. It stands to reason there must be someone else. And there is no one but you. She doesn't know anyone else, I tell you. She has no opportunities. Her mother sees to that."
Scott was bending over the fire, his face to the flame. His indignation had died down. He was very still, as one deep in thought. Could it be the true word spoken in ill-timed jest which he had just heard? He wondered; he wondered.
A golden radiance was spreading forth to him from the heart of those leaping flames, like the coming of the dawnlight over the dark earth. He watched it spell-bound, utterly unmindful of the man behind him. If this thing were true! Ah, if this thing were true!
A sudden sound made him turn to see Colonel de Vigne and his daughter enter.
They came forward to greet him and Bathurst. Rose was smiling; her eyes were softly bright.
"How happy she looks!" was the thought that occurred to him, but it was only a passing thought. It vanished in a moment as he