Greatheart Part 35

But the noise continued, a perfect clamour of sound; and soon there came other sounds, the shouting of men, the m.u.f.fled tread of feet sorely hampered by snow. A dim light began to shine, and gradually increased till it became a single, piercing eye that swept searchingly around the wretched shelter. An arc of fog surrounded it, obscuring all besides.

Dinah gazed wide-eyed at that dazzling arc, wondering numbly, whence it came. It drew nearer to her. Its brightness became intolerable. She tried to shut her eyes, but the lids felt too stiff to move. Again, more feebly, she moved her hand. It would be terrible if they thought her dead, especially after all the trouble she had taken to return.

And then very suddenly the deadly lethargy pa.s.sed from her. All her nerves were p.r.i.c.ked into activity. For someone--someone--was kneeling beside her. She felt herself gathered into strong arms.

"Quick, Wetherby! The brandy!" Ah, well she knew those brief, peremptory tones! "My G.o.d! We're only just in time!"

Fast pressed against a man's heart, a faint warmth went through her. She knew an instant of perfect serenity; but the next she uttered a piteous cry of pain. For fire--liquid, agonizing--was on her bloodless lips and in her mouth. It burned its ruthless way down her throat, setting her whole body tingling, waking afresh in her the power to suffer.

She turned, weakly gasping, and hid her face upon the breast that supported her.

Instantly she felt herself clasped more closely. "It's all right, little darling, all right!" he whispered to her with an almost fierce tenderness. "Take it like a good child! It'll pull you through."

With steady insistence he turned her face back again, chafing her icy cheek hard. And in a moment or two another burning dose was on its way.

It made her choke and gurgle, but it did its work. The frozen heart in her began to beat again with great jerks and bounds, sending quivering shocks throughout her body.

She tried to speak to him, to whisper his name; but she could only gasp and gasp against his breast, and presently from very weakness she began to cry.

He gathered her closer still, murmuring fond words, while he rubbed her face and hands, imparting the warmth of his own body to hers. His presence was like a fiery essence encompa.s.sing her. Lying there against his heart, she felt the tide of life turn in her veins and steadily flow again. Like a child, she clung to him, and after a while, with an impulse sublimely natural, she lifted her lips to his.

He pressed his lips upon them closely, lingeringly. "Better now, sweetheart?" he whispered.

And she, clinging to him, found voice to answer, "Nothing matters now you have come."

The consciousness of his protecting care filled her with a rapture almost too great to be borne. She throbbed in his arms, pressing closer, ever closer. And the grim Shadow of Death receded from the threshold. She knew that she was safe.

It was soon after this that the thought of Isabel came to her, and tremulously she begged him to go to her. But he would not suffer her out of his arms.

"The others can see to her," he said. "You are my care."

She thrilled at the words, but she would not be satisfied. "She has been so good to me," she told him pleadingly "See, I am wearing her coat."

"But for her you would never have come to this," he made brief reply, and she thought his words were stern.

Then, as she would not be pacified, he lifted her like a child and held her so that she could look down upon Isabel, lying inert and senseless against the doctor's knee.

"Oh, is she dead?" whispered Dinah, awe-struck.

"I don't know," he made answer, and by the tightening of his arms she knew that her safety meant more to him at the moment than that of Isabel or anyone else in the world.

But in a second or two she heard Isabel moan, and was rea.s.sured.

"She is coming round," the doctor said. "She is not so far gone as the other la.s.sie."

Dinah wondered hazily what he could mean, wondered if by any chance he suspected that long and dreary wandering of her spirit up and down the mountain-side. She nestled her head down against Eustace's shoulder with a feeling of unutterable thankfulness that she had returned in time.

Her impressions after that were of a very dim and shadowy description.

She supposed the brandy had made her sleepy. Very soon she drifted off into a state of semi-consciousness in which she realized nothing but the strong holding of his arms. She even vaguely wondered after a time whether this also were not a dream, for other fantasies began to crowd about her. She rocked on a sea of strange happenings on which she found it impossible to focus her mind. It seemed to have broken adrift as it were--a rudderless boat in a gale. But still that sense of security never wholly left her. Dreaming or waking, the force of his personality remained with her.

It must have been hours later, she reflected afterwards, that she heard the Colonel's voice exclaim hoa.r.s.ely over her head, "In heaven's name, say she isn't dead!"

And, "Of course she isn't," came Eustace's curt response. "Should I be carrying her if she were?"

She tried to open her eyes, but could not. They seemed to be weighted down. But she did very feebly close her numbed hands about Eustace's coat. Emphatically she did not want to be handed over like a bale of goods to the Colonel.

He clasped her to him rea.s.suringly, and presently she knew that he bore her upstairs, holding her comfortably close all the way.

"Don't go away from me!" she begged him weakly.

"Not so long as you want me, little sweetheart," he made answer. But her woman's heart told her that a parting was imminent notwithstanding.

In all her life she had never had so much attention before. She seemed to have entered upon a new and amazing phase of existence. Colonel de Vigne faded completely into the background, and she found herself in the care of Biddy and the doctor. Eustace left her with a low promise to return, and she had to be satisfied with that thought, though she would fain have clung to him still.

They undressed her and put her into a hot bath that did much to lessen the numb constriction of her limbs, though it brought also the most agonizing pain she had ever known. When it was over, the limit of her endurance was long past; and she lay in hot blankets weeping helplessly while Biddy tried in vain to persuade her to drink some scalding mixture that she swore would make her feel as gay as a lark.

In the midst of this, someone entered quietly and stood beside her; and all in a moment there came to Dinah the consciousness of an unknown force very strangely uplifting her. She looked up with a quivering smile in the midst of her tears.

"Oh, Mr. Greatheart," she whispered brokenly, "is it you?"

He smiled down upon her, and took the cup from Biddy's shaky old hand.

"May I give you this?" he said.

Dinah was filled with gratified confusion. "Oh, please, you mustn't trouble! But--how very kind of you!"

He took Biddy's place by her side. His eyes were shining with an odd brilliance, almost, she thought to herself wonderingly, as if they held tears. A sharp misgiving went through her. How was it they were bestowing so much care upon her, unless Isabel--Isabel--

She did not dare to put her doubt into words, but he read it and instantly answered it. "Don't be anxious!" he said in his kindly, tired voice. "All is well. Isabel is asleep--actually sleeping quietly without any draught. The doctor is quite satisfied about her."

He spoke the simple truth, she knew; he was incapable of doing anything else. A great wave of thankfulness went through her, obliterating the worst of her misery.

"I am so glad," she told him weakly. "I was--so dreadfully afraid. I--I had to go with her, Mr. Studley. I do hope everyone understands."

"Everyone does," he made answer gently. "Now let me give you this, and then you must sleep too."

She drank from the cup he held, and felt revived.

He did not speak again till she had finished; then he leaned slightly towards her, and spoke with great earnestness. "Miss Bathurst, do you realize, I wonder, that you saved my sister's life by going with her? I do; and I shall never forget it."

She was sure now that she caught the gleam of tears in the grey eyes. She slipped her hands out to him. "I only did what I could," she murmured confusedly. "Anyone would have done it. And please, Mr. Greatheart, will you call me Dinah?"

"Or Mercy?" he suggested smiling, her hands clasped close in his.

She smiled back with shy confidence. The memory of her dream was in her mind, but she could not tell him of that.

"No," she said. "Just Dinah. I'm not nice enough to be called anything else. And thank you--thank you for being so good to me."