Greatheart

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER III

  DESPAIR

  "If I had known that this was going to happen, I would never havetroubled to cultivate their acquaintance," said Lady Grace fretfully. "Iknew of course that that artful little minx was running after the man,but that he could ever be foolish enough to let himself be caught in suchan obvious trap was a possibility that I never seriously contemplated."

  "It doesn't matter to me," said Rose.

  She had said it many times before with the same rather forced smile. Itwas not a subject that she greatly cared to discuss. The news of Dinah'sconquest had come like a thunderbolt. In common with her mother, she hadnever seriously thought that Sir Eustace could be so foolish. But sincethe utterly unexpected had come to pass, it seemed to her futile to talkabout it. Dinah had secured the finest prize within reach for the moment,and there was no disputing the fact.

  "The wedding is to take place so soon too," lamented Lady Grace. "That, Ihave no doubt, is the doing of that scheming mother of hers. What shallwe do about going to it, Rose? Do you want to go, dear?"

  "Not in the least, but I am going all the same." Rose was still smiling,and her eyes were fixed. "I think, you know, Mother," she said, "that wemight do worse than ask Sir Eustace and his party to stay here for theevent."

  "My dear Rose!" Lady Grace gazed at her in amazement.

  Rose continued to stare into space. "It would be much more convenient forthem," she said. "And really we have no reason for allowing people toimagine that we are other than pleased over the arrangement. We shall notbe going to town before Easter, so it seems to me that it would be onlyneighbourly to invite Sir Eustace to stay at the Court for the wedding.Great Mallowes is not a particularly nice place to put up in, and thiswould be far handier for him."

  Lady Grace slowly veiled her astonishment. "Of course, dear; if you thinkso, it might be managed. We will talk to your father about it, and if heapproves I will write to Sir Eustace--or get him to do so. I do notmyself consider that Sir Eustace has behaved at all nicely. He was mostcavalier about the Hunt Ball. But if you wish to overlook it--well, Ishall not put any difficulty in the way."

  "I think it would be a good thing to do," said Rose somewhatenigmatically.

  The letter that reached Sir Eustace two days later was penned by theColonel's hand, and contained a brief but cordial invitation to him andhis following to stay at Perrythorpe Court for the wedding.

  He read it with a careless smile and tossed it over to Scott. "Here ismagnanimity," he commented. "Shall we accept the coals of fire?"

  Scott read with all gravity and laid it down. "If you want my opinion, Ishould say 'No,'" he said.

  "Why would you say No?" There was a lazy challenge in the question, aprovocative gleam in Sir Eustace's blue eyes.

  Scott smiled a little. "For one thing I shouldn't enjoy the coals offire. For another, I shouldn't care to be at too close quarters with thebeautiful Miss de Vigne again, if I had your very highly susceptibletemperament. And for a third, I believe Isabel would prefer to stay atGreat Mallowes."

  "You're mighty clever, my son, aren't you?" said Eustace with asupercilious twist of the lips. "But--as it chances--not one of thoseexcellent reasons appeals to me."

  "Very well then," said Scott, with the utmost patience. "It is up to youto accept."

  "Why should Isabel prefer Great Mallowes?" demanded Sir Eustace. "Sheknows the de Vignes. It is far better for her to see people, and there ismore comfort in a private house than in a hotel."

  "Quite so," said Scott. "I am sure she will fall in with your wishes inthis respect, whatever they are. Will you write to Colonel de Vigne, orshall I?"

  "You can--and accept," returned Sir Eustace imperially.

  Scott took a sheet of paper without further words.

  His brother leaned back in his chair, his black brows slightly drawn, andcontemplated him as he did it.

  "By the way, Scott," he said, after a moment, "Dinah's staying here neednot make any difference to you in any way. She can't expect to have youat her beck and call as she had in Switzerland. You must make that clearto her."

  "Very well, old chap." Scott spoke without raising his head. "You'regoing to meet her at the station, I suppose?"

  "Almost immediately, yes." Eustace got up with a movement of suppressedimpatience. "We shall have tea in Isabel's room. You needn't turn up.I'll tell them to send yours in here."

  "Oh, don't trouble! I'm going to turn up," very calmly Scott maderejoinder. He had already begun to write; his hand moved steadily acrossthe sheet.

  Sir Eustace's frown deepened. "You won't catch the post with thoseletters if you do."

  Scott looked up at last, and his eyes were as steady as his hand hadbeen. "That's my business, old chap," he said quietly. "Don't you worryyourself about that!"

  There was a hint of ferocity about Sir Eustace as he met that steadfastlook. He stood motionless for a moment or two, then flung round on hisheel. Scott returned to his work with the composure characteristic ofhim, and almost immediately the banging of the door told of his brother'sdeparture.

  Then for a second his hand paused; he passed the other across his eyeswith the old gesture of weariness, and a short, hard sigh came from himere he bent again to his task.

  Sir Eustace strode across the hall with the frown still drawing hisbrows. An open car was waiting at the door, but ere he went to it heturned aside and knocked peremptorily at another door.

  He opened without waiting for a reply and entered a long, low-ceiled roomthrough which the rays of the afternoon sun were pouring. Isabel, lyingon a couch between fire and window, turned her head towards him.

  "Haven't you started yet? Surely it is getting very late," she said inher low, rather monotonous voice.

  He came to her. "I prefer starting a bit late," he said. "You will havetea ready when we return?"

  "Certainly," she said.

  He stood looking down at her intently. "Are you all right today?" heasked abruptly.

  A faint colour rose in her cheeks. "I am--as usual," she said.

  "What does that mean?" Curtly he put the question. "Why don't you go outmore? Why don't you get old Lister to make you up a tonic?"

  She smiled a little, but there was slight uneasiness behind her smile.Her eyes had the remote look of one who watches the far horizon. "My dearEustace," she said, "_cui bono_?"

  He stooped suddenly over her. "It is because you won't make the effort,"he said, speaking with grim emphasis. "You're letting yourself go again,I know; I've been watching you for the past week. And by heaven, Isabel,you shan't do it! Scott may be fool enough to let you, but I'm not.You've only been home a week, and you've been steadily losing ground eversince you got back. What is it? What's the matter with you? Tell me whatis the matter!"

  So insistent was his tone, so almost menacing his attitude, that Isabelshrank from him with a gesture too swift to repress. The old patheticfurtive look was in her eyes as she made reply.

  "I am very sorry. I don't see how I can help it. I--I am getting old, youknow. That is the chief reason."

  "You're talking nonsense, my dear girl." Impatiently Eustace broke in."You are just coming into your prime. I won't have you ruin your lifelike this. Do you hear me? I won't. If you don't rouse yourself I willfind a means to rouse you. You are simply drifting now--simply drifting."

  "But into my desired haven," whispered Isabel, with a piteous quiver ofthe lips.

  He straightened himself with a gesture of exasperation. "You are wastingyourself over a myth, an illusion. On my soul, Isabel, what a wickedwaste it is! Have you forgotten the days when you and I roamed over theworld together? Have you forgotten Egypt and all we did there? Life wasworth having then."

  "Ah! I thought so." She met his look with eyes that did not seem to seehim. "We were children then, Eustace," she said, "children playing on thesands. But the great tide caught us. You breasted the waves, but I wasbroken and thrown aside. I could never play on the sands again. I canonly lie and wait for the tide
to come again and float me away."

  He clenched his hands. "Do you think I would let you go--like that?" hesaid.

  "It is the only kindness you can do me," she answered in her low voice ofpleading.

  He swung round to go. "I curse the day," he said very bitterly, "that youever met Basil Everard! I curse his memory!"

  She flinched at the words as if they had been a blow. Her face turnedsuddenly grey. She clasped her hands very tightly together, saying noword.

  He went to the door and paused, his back towards her. "I came in," hesaid then, "to tell you that the de Vignes have offered to put us up attheir place for the wedding. And I have accepted."

  He waited for some rejoinder but she made none. It was as if she had notheard. Her eyes had the impotent, stricken look of one who has searcheddim distances for some beloved object--and searched in vain.

  He did not glance round. His temper was on edge. With a fierce movementhe pulled open the door and departed. And behind him like a veil therefell the silence of a great despair.