_ PART II CHAPTER XXV. THE TRUSTY FRIEND
The trains from the junction to Heath-on-Sea were few and invariably late. Scott had been pacing the platform for half an hour on the evening of the day that followed his own arrival ere a line of distant smoke told of the coming of the train he was awaiting.
His movements were slow and weary, but there was about him the strained look of a man who cannot rest. There was no gladness of welcome in his eyes as the train drew near. It was rather as if he braced himself for a coming ordeal.
He searched the carriages intently as they ran past him, and a flicker of recognition came into his face at the sight of a tall figure leaning from one of them. He lifted a hand in salutation, and limped along the platform to meet the newcomer.
Sir Eustace was out of the train before anyone else. He met his brother with the impetuosity of one who cannot stop for greeting.
"Ah, Stumpy! I'm not too late?"
There was strain upon his face also as he flung the question, and in an instant Scott's look had changed. He grasped the outflung hand.
"No, no, old fellow! It's all right. She is looking forward to seeing you."
Sir Eustace drew a sharp breath. His dark face relaxed a little. "I've had a hell of a time," he said.
"My dear chap, I'm sorry," impulsively Scott made answer. "I'd have met you at the junction, only it was difficult to get away for so long. Do you mind walking up? They'll see to fetching your traps along presently."
"Oh, all right. Yes, let us walk by all means!" Eustace expanded his chest, and breathed again, deeply. He put his hand on Scott's shoulder as they passed through the barrier. "What's the matter with you, my lad?" he said.
Scott glanced up at him--a swift, surprised glance. "With me? Nothing. I am--as usual."
Eustace's hawk-eyes scanned him closely. "I've never seen you look worse," he said.
Scott raised his shoulder slightly under his hand, and said nothing. The first involuntary kindliness of greeting passed wholly away, as if it had not been.
Eustace linked the hand in his arm as they walked. "Tell me about her!" he said.
"About Isabel?" Scott spoke with very obvious constraint. "There isn't much to tell. She is just--going. These breathless attacks come very frequently, and she is weaker after each one. The doctor says it would not be surprising if she went in her sleep, or in fact at any time."
"And she asked for me?" The question fell curtly; Eustace was looking straight ahead up the white, dusty road as he uttered it.
"Yes; she wanted you." Equally curtly came Scott's reply. He ignored the hand on his arm, limping forward at his own pace and leaving his brother to accommodate himself to it as best he could.
Sir Eustace sauntered beside him in silence for a space. They were approaching the heath-clad common that gave the place its name, when he spoke again.
"And Dinah?" he said then.
Again Scott glanced upwards, his pale eyes very resolute. "Yes, Dinah is still here. Her people seem quite indifferent as to what becomes of her, and Isabel wishes to keep her with her. I hope--" he hesitated momentarily--"I hope you will bear in mind the extreme difficulty of her situation."
Sir Eustace passed over the low words. "And what is going to happen to her--afterwards?" he said.
"Heaven knows!" Scott spoke as one compelled.
Sir Eustace continued to gaze straight before him. "Haven't you thought of any solution to the difficulty?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" Scott's voice rang suddenly stern.
A faint smile touched his brother's face; it was like the shadow of his old, supercilious sneer. "It occurred to me that you, being a chivalrous knight, might be moved to offer her your protection," he explained coolly. "You are quite at liberty to do so, so far as I am concerned. I give you my free consent."
Scott started, as if he had been stung. "Man, don't sneer at me!" he said in a voice that quivered. "I've a good many things against you, and I'm damned if I can stand any more!"
There was desperation in his words. Sir Eustace's brows went up, and his smile departed. But there came no answering anger in his eyes.
He was silent for several moments, pacing forward, his hand no longer linked in Scott's arm. Then at last very quietly he spoke. "You're right. You have a good many things against me. But this is not one of them. I was not sneering at you."
There was a note of most unwonted sincerity in his voice that gave conviction to his words. Scott turned and regarded him in open amazement.
The steel-blue eyes met his with an odd, half-shamed expression. "You mustn't bully me, you know, Stumpy!" he said. "Remember, I can't hit back."
Scott stood still. He had never in his life been more astounded. Even then, with the direct evidence before him, he could hardly believe that the old haughty dominance had given place to something different.
"Why--can't you--hit back?" he said, almost stammering in his uncertainty.
Sir Eustace smiled again with rueful irony. "Because I've nothing to hit with, my son. Because you can break through my defence every time. If I were to kick you from here to the sea, you'd still have the best of me. Haven't you realized that yet?"
"I hadn't--no!" Scott's eyes still regarded him with a puzzled, half-suspicious expression.
Sir Eustace turned from their scrutiny, and began to walk on. "You will presently," he said. "The man who masters himself is always the man to master the rest of the world in the end. I never thought I should live to envy you, my boy. But I do."
"Envy me! Why? Why on earth?" Embarrassment mingled with the curiosity in Scott's voice. His hostility had gone down utterly before the unaccustomed humility of his brother's attitude.
Sir Eustace glanced at him sideways. "I'll tell you another time," he said. "Now look here, Stumpy! You're in command, and I shan't interfere with you so long as you take reasonable care of yourself. But you must do that. It is the one thing I am going to insist upon. That's understood, is it?"
Scott smiled, his tired, gentle smile. "Oh, certainly, my dear chap. Don't you worry yourself about that! It isn't of the first importance in any case."
"It's got to be done," Sir Eustace insisted. "So keep it in mind!"
"I haven't been doing anything, you know," Scott protested mildly. "I only came down yesterday."
"That may be. But you haven't been sleeping for some time. You needn't trouble to deny it. I know the signs. What have you been doing at Willowmount?"
It was a welcome change of subject, and Scott was not slow to avail himself of it. They began to talk upon matters connected with the estate, and the personal element passed completely out of the conversation.
When they reached the white house on the cliff they almost seemed to have slipped into the old casual relations; but the younger brother was well aware that this was not so. The change that had so amazed him was apparent to him at every turn. The overbearing mastery to which he had been accustomed all his life had turned in some miraculous fashion into something that was oddly like deference. It was fully evident that Eustace meant to keep his word and leave him in command.
Dinah met them in the rose-twined portico. There was a deep flush in her cheeks; her eyes were very bright, resolutely unafraid. She shook hands with Eustace, and he alone was aware of the tremor that ran through her whole being as she did so.
"Isabel is asleep," she said. "She often gets a sleep in the afternoon, and she is always the stronger for it when she wakes. Will you have some tea before you go to her?"
They had tea in the sunny verandah overlooking the sea. Sir Eustace was very quiet and grave, and it was Scott who gently conversed with the girl, smoothing away all difficulties. She was plainly determined to conquer her nervousness, and she succeeded to a great extent before the ordeal was over. But there was obvious relief in her eyes when Sir Eustace set down his cup and rose to go.
"I think I will go to her now," he said. "I shall not wake her."
He went, and a great stillness fell behind him. Scott dropped into silence, and they sat together, he smoking, she leaning back in her chair idle, with wistful eyes upon the silvery sea.
Up in Isabel's room overhead there was neither sound nor movement, but presently there fell a soft footfall upon the stairs and the nurse came quietly through and spoke to Dinah.
"Mrs. Everard is still asleep. Her brother is watching her and Biddy is within call. I thought I would take a little walk on the shore, as I shall not be wanted just at present."
"Oh, of course," Dinah said. "Don't hurry back!"
The nurse smiled and flitted away into the golden evening sunlight.
Dinah turned her head towards her silent companion. "I wonder," she said, "if I could learn to be a nurse."
He blew a cloud of smoke into the air. "Are you still worrying about the future?" he said.
"I don't know that I am exactly worrying," she made low reply. "But I shall have to decide about it very soon."
Scott was silent for a space while he finished his cigarette. Then at last slowly, haltingly, he spoke. "Dinah,--I have been thinking about the future too. If I touch upon anything that hurts you, you must stop me, and I will not say another word. But, child, it seems to me that we shall both be--rather lost--when Isabel is gone. I wonder--would it shock you very much--if I suggested to you--as a solution of the difficulty--that we should some day in the future enter into partnership together?"
He spoke with obvious effort; his hands were gripped upon the arms of his chair. The wicker creaked in the strain of his grasp, but he himself remained lying back with eyes half-closed in compulsory inaction.
Dinah also sat absolutely still. If his words amazed her, she gave no sign. Only the wistfulness about her mouth deepened as she made answer below her breath. "It--is just like you to suggest such a thing; but--it is quite impossible."
He opened his eyes and looked at her very steadily and kindly. "Quite?" he said.
She bent her head, swiftly lowering her own. "Yes--thank you a million times--quite."
"Even if I promise never to make love to you?" he said, his voice half-quizzical, half-tender.
She put out a trembling hand and laid it on his arm. "Oh, Scott,--it--isn't that!"
He took the hand and held it. "My dear, don't cry!" he urged gently. "I knew you wouldn't have me really. I only thought I would just place myself completely at your disposal in case--some day--you might be willing to give me the chance to serve you in any capacity whatever. There! It is over. We are as we were--friends."
He smiled at her with the words, and after a moment stooped and lightly touched her fingers with his lips.
"Come!" he said gently. "I haven't frightened you anyway. Have I?"
"No," she whispered.
His hand clasped hers for a second or two longer, then quietly let it go. "Don't be distressed!" he said, "I will never do it again. I am now--and always--your trusty friend."
And with that he rose in his slow way, paused to light another cigarette, smiled again upon her, and softly went indoors. _