Greatheart Part 11

"Because I'm pleased," said Dinah.

"Pleased? I thought you'd be sorry for me. You're going to take pity on me anyway, I hope. The beautiful automaton has gone back to her band-box for the night, so we can enjoy ourselves quite unhindered. Is that for me? Thanks, Biddy! I'm needing refreshment badly."

"You would have preferred coffee," observed Isabel.

It was the first time she had spoken since his entrance. He gave her a keen, intent look. "Oh, this'll do, thanks," he said. "It is all nectar to-night. Why haven't you been down to the ballroom, Isabel? You would have enjoyed it."

Her lips twisted a little. "I have been listening to the music upstairs,"

she said.

"You ought to have come down," he said imperiously. "I shall expect you next time." His hand inadvertently touched the box on the table and he looked sharply downwards. "Here, Biddy! Take this thing away!" he ordered with a frown.

Isabel leaned swiftly forward. "Give it to me!" she said.

His hand closed upon it. "No. Let Biddy take it!"

"Let me!" said Dinah suddenly, and sprang to her feet.

She took it from him before he had time to protest, and gave it forthwith into Isabel's outstretched hands.

Eustace took up his cup in heavy silence, and drained it.

Then he rose. "Come along, Miss Bathurst!"

But Dinah remained seated. "I am very sorry," she said. "But I can't."

"Oh, nonsense!" He smiled very suddenly and winningly upon her. "Surely you won't disappoint me!"

She shook her head. Her eyes were wistful. "I'm disappointing myself quite as much. But I mustn't. The Colonel has gone to bed with dyspepsia, and Lady Grace and Rose have gone too by this time. I can't come down again."

"Nonsense!" he said again. "You want to. You know you do. No one pays any attention to Mrs. Grundy out here. She simply doesn't exist. Scott can come and play propriety. He's staid enough to chaperon a whole girls'

school."

"Thanks, old chap," said Scott. "But I'm not coming down again, either."

Eustace looked over his head. "Then you must, Isabel. Come along! Just to oblige Miss Bathurst! It won't hurt you to sit in a safe corner for one dance."

Isabel looked up at him with a startled expression, as of one trapped.

"Oh, don't ask me!" she said. "I couldn't!"

"No, don't!" said Dinah. "It isn't, fair to bother anyone else on my account! I'm dreadfully sorry to have to refuse. But--in any case--I ought not to come."

"What of that?" said Eustace lightly. "Do you always do what you ought?

What a dull programme!"

Dinah flushed. "Dull but respectable," she said, with a touch of spirit.

He laughed. "But I'm not asking you to do anything very outrageous, and I shouldn't ask it at all if I didn't know you wanted to do it. Besides, you promised. It's generally considered the respectable thing to do to keep one's promises."

That reached Dinah. She wavered perceptibly. "Lady Grace will be so vexed," she murmured.

He snapped his fingers in careless disdain.

She turned appealingly to Scott. "I think I might go--just for one dance, don't you?"

Scott's pale eyes met hers with steady comradeship. "I think I shouldn't," he said.

Eustace turned as if he had not heard and strolled to the door. He opened it, and at once the room was filled with the plaintive alluring strains of waltz-music. He stood and looked back. Dinah met the look, and suddenly she was on her feet.

He held out his hand to her with a smile half-mocking, half-persuasive.

The music swung on with a subtle enchantment. Dinah uttered a little quivering laugh, and went to him.

In another moment the door closed, and they stood alone in the pa.s.sage.

"I knew you wanted to," said Eustace, smiling down into her eyes with the arrogance of the conqueror.

Dinah was panting a little as one who had suffered a sudden strain. "Of course I wanted to," she returned. "But that doesn't make it right."

He pressed her hand to his heart for a moment, and she caught again a glimpse of that fire in his eyes that had so thrilled her. She could not meet it. She stood in palpitating silence.

"Where is the use of fighting against fate?" he asked her softly. "A gift of the G.o.ds is never offered twice."

She did not understand him, but her heart was beating wildly, tumultuously, and an inner voice urged her to be gone.

She slipped her hand free. "Aren't we--wasting time?" she whispered.

He laughed again in that subtle, half-mocking note, but he met her wish instantly. They went downstairs to the _salon_.

There were not so many dancers now. The de Vignes had evidently retired.

One rapid glance told Dinah this, and she dismissed them therewith from her mind. The rhythm and lure of the music caught her. She slid into the dance with delicious abandonment. The wonder and romance of it had got into her veins. No stolen pleasure was ever more keenly enjoyed than was that last perfect dance. Her very blood was a-fire with the strange, intoxicating joy of life. She wanted to go on for ever.

But it ended at length. She came to earth after her rapturous flight, and found herself standing with her partner in a curtained recess of the ballroom from which a gla.s.s door led on to the verandah that ran round the hotel.

"Just a glimpse of the moonlight on the mountains," he said, "before we say good-night!"

She went with him without a moment's thought. She was as one caught in the meshes of a great enchantment. He opened the door, and she pa.s.sed through on to the verandah.

The music throbbed into silence behind them. Before them lay a fairy-world of dazzling silver and deepest, darkest sapphire. The mountains stood in solemn grandeur, domes of white mystery. The great vault of the sky was alight with stars, and a wonderful moon hung like a silver shield almost in the zenith.

"How--beautiful!" breathed Dinah.

The air was crystal clear, cold but not piercing. The absolute stillness held her spell-bound.

"It is like a dream-world," she whispered.

"In which you reign supreme," he murmured back.

She glanced at him with uncomprehending eyes. Her veins were still throbbing with the ecstasy of the dance.