_ PART II CHAPTER XI. THE NET
When Dinah met her lover in the morning she found him in a surprisingly indulgent mood. The day was showery, and he announced his intention of accompanying them in the car up to town.
"An excellent opportunity for selecting the wedding-ring," he told her lightly. "You will like that better than a picnic."
And Dinah in her relief admitted that this was the case.
Up to the last moment she hoped that Scott would accompany them also, but when she came down dressed for the expedition she found that he had gone to the library to write letters. She pursued him thither, but he would not be persuaded to leave his work.
"Besides, I should only be in the way," he said. And when she vehemently negatived this, he smiled and fell back upon the plea that he was busy.
Just at the last she tried to murmur a word of thanks to him for intervening on her behalf to induce Eustace to abandon the picnic, but he gently checked her.
"Oh, please don't thank me!" he said. "I am not a very good meddler, I assure you. I hope you are going to have a good day. Take care of Isabel!"
Dinah would have lingered to tell him of the night's happening, but Sir Eustace called her and with a smile of farewell she hastened away.
She enjoyed that day with a zest that banished all misgivings. Sir Eustace insisted upon the purchase of the ring at the outset, and then she and Isabel went their way alone, and shopped in a fashion that raised Dinah's spirits to giddy heights. She had never seen or imagined such exquisite things as Isabel ordered on her behalf. The hours slipped away in one long dream of delight. Sir Eustace had desired them to join him at luncheon, but Isabel had gravely refused. There would not be time, she said. They would meet for tea. And somewhat to Dinah's surprise he had yielded the point.
They met for tea in a Bond Street restaurant and here Sir Eustace took away his _fiancee's_ breath by presenting her with a pearl necklace to wear at her wedding.
She was almost too overwhelmed by the gift to thank him. "Oh, it's too good--it's too good!" she said, awestruck by its splendour.
"Nothing is too good for my wife," he said in his imperial fashion.
Isabel smiled the smile that never reached her shadowed eyes. "A chain of pearls to bind a bride!" she said.
And the thought flashed upon Dinah that there was truth in her words. Whether with intention or not, by every gift he gave her he bound her the more closely to him. An odd little sensation of dismay accompanied it, but she put it resolutely from her. Bound or not, what did it matter--since she had no desire to escape?
She thanked him again very earnestly that night in the conservatory, and he pressed her to him and kissed the neck on which his pearls rested with the hot lips of a thirsty man. But he had himself under control, and when she sought to draw herself away he let her go. She wondered at his forbearance and was mutely grateful for it.
At Isabel's suggestion she went up to her room early. She was certainly weary, but she was radiantly happy. It had been a wonderful day. The beauty of the pearls dazzled her. She kissed them ere she laid them out of sight. He was good to her. He was much too good.
There came a knock at the door just as she was getting into bed, and Biddy came softly in, her brown face full of mystery and, Dinah saw at a glance, of anxiety also.
She put up a warning finger as she advanced. "Whisht, Miss Dinah darlint! For the love of heaven, don't ye make a noise! I just came in to ask ye a question, for it's worried to death I am."
"Why what's the matter, Biddy?" Dinah questioned in surprise.
"And ye may well ask, Miss Dinah dear!" Tragedy made itself heard in Biddy's rejoinder. "Sure it's them letters of Miss Isabel's that's disappeared entirely, and left no trace. And what'll I do at all when she comes to ask for them? It's not meself that'll dare to tell her as they've gone, and she setting such store by them. She'll go clean out of her mind, Miss Dinah, for sure, they've been her only comfort, poor lamb, these seven years."
"But, Biddy!" Impulsively Dinah broke in upon her, her eyes round with surprise and consternation. "They can't be--gone! They must be somewhere! Have you hunted for them? She left them on the window-sill, didn't she? They must have got put away."
"That they have not!" declared Biddy solemnly. "It's my belief that the old gentleman himself must have spirited them away. The window was left open, ye know, Miss Dinah, and it was a dark night."
"Oh, Biddy, nonsense, nonsense! One of the servants must have moved them when she was doing the room. Have you asked everyone?"
"That couldn't have happened, Miss Dinah dear." Unshakable conviction was in Biddy's voice. "I got up late, and I had to get Miss Isabel up in a hurry to go off in the motor. But I missed the letters directly after she was gone, and I hadn't left the room--except to call her. No one had been in--not unless they slipped in in those few minutes while me back was turned. And for what should anyone take such a thing as them letters, Miss Dinah? There are no thieves in the house. And them love-letters were worth nothing to nobody saving to Miss Isabel, and they were the very breath of life to her when the black mood was on her. Whatever she'll say--whatever she'll do--I don't dare to think."
Poor Biddy flourished her apron as though she would throw it over her head. Her parchment face was working painfully.
Dinah sat on the edge of her bed and watched her, not knowing what to say.
"Where is Miss Isabel?" she asked at last.
"She's still downstairs with Master Scott, and I'm expecting her up every minute. It's herself that ought to be in bed by now, for she's tired out after her long day; but he'll be bringing her up directly and then she'll ask for her love-letters. There's never a night goes by but what she kisses them before she lies down. When ye were ill, Miss Dinah dear, she'd forget sometimes, but ever since she's been alone again she's never missed, not once."
"Have you told Master Scott?" asked Dinah.
Biddy shook her head. "Would I add to his burdens, poor young gentleman? He'll know soon enough."
"And are you sure you've looked everywhere--everywhere?" insisted Dinah. "If no one has taken them--"
"Miss Dinah, I've turned the whole room upside down and shaken it," declared Biddy. "I'll take my dying oath that them letters have gone."
"Could they--could they possibly have fallen out of the window?" hazarded Dinah.
"Miss Dinah dear, no!" A hint of impatience born of her distress was perceptible in the old woman's tone; she turned to the door. "Well, well, it's no good talking. Don't ye fret yourself! What must be, will be."
"But I think Scott ought to know," said Dinah.
"No, no, Miss Dinah! We'll not tell him before we need. He's got his own troubles. But I wonder--I wonder--" Biddy paused with the door-handle in her bony old fingers--"how would it be now," she said slowly, "if ye was to get Miss Isabel to sleep 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. _