Greatheart Part 61

"Oh, Eustace, I have had such a lovely time!" she told him. "It has been a perfect day."

She offered him her lips with a child's simplicity, but blushed deeply when she felt the hot pressure of his, turning her face aside the moment he released her.

He laughed a little, keeping his arm about her shoulders. "You haven't missed me then?" he said.

"Oh, not a bit," said Dinah truthfully; and then quickly, "but what a horrid thing to say! Why did you put it like that?"

"I wanted to know," said Sir Eustace.

She turned back to him. "I should have missed you if I hadn't been so busy. Isabel is going to help me with my trousseau. And oh, Eustace, I am to have such a crowd of lovely things."

He pinched her cheek. "What should a brown elf need beyond a shift of thistle-down? Where is Isabel?"

"She is resting now. She got so tired. Biddy said she must lie down, and we mustn't disturb her for tea. I do hope it wasn't too much for her, Eustace."

"Too much for her! Nonsense! It does her good to think of someone else besides herself," said Eustace. "If Biddy didn't coddle her so in the day time, she would sleep better at night. Well, where is tea? In the drawing-room? Come along and have it!"

Dinah clung to his arm. "It--it's in a place called my lady's boudoir,"

she told him shyly.

He looked at her. "Where? Oh, I know. That inner sanctuary with the west window. You've taken a fancy to it, have you? Then we will call it Daphne's Bower."

Dinah's laugh was not without a hint of restraint. "I haven't been in any other room. Scott said you would show me everything. But I just wandered in there, and he found me and showed me the dear little boudoir. He said you were going to have it done up."

"So I am," said Eustace. "Everything that belongs to you must be new.

Have you decided what colour will suit you best?"

They were pa.s.sing through the long drawing-room towards the curtained doorway that led into the little boudoir. The drawing-room was a palatial apartment with stately French furniture that Dinah surveyed with awe. She could not picture herself as hostess in so magnificent a setting. She could only think of Rose de Vigne. It would have suited her flawless beauty perfectly, and she knew that Rose's self-contained heart would have revelled in such an atmosphere.

But it made her feel a stranger, and she hastened through it to the cosier nest beyond.

This was a far more homely spot. The furniture here was French also, and exquisitely delicate; but it was designed for comfort, and the gilded state of the outer room was wholly absent.

A tea-table stood near a deeply-cushioned settee, and the kettle sang merrily over a spirit-lamp.

Eustace dropped on to the settee and drew her suddenly and wholly unexpectedly down upon his knee.

"Oh, Eustace!" she gasped, turning crimson.

He wound his arms about her, holding her two hands imprisoned. "Oh, Daphne!" he mocked softly. "I've caught you--I've caught you! Here in your own bower with no one to look on! No, you can't even flutter your wings now. You've got to stay still and be worshipped."

He spoke with his face against her neck. She felt the burning of his breath, and something;--an urgent, inner prompting--warned her to submit.

She sat there in his grasp in quivering silence.

His arms drew her nearer, nearer. It was as if he were gradually merging her whole being into his. In a moment, with a little gasp, she gave him her trembling lips.

He uttered a low laugh of mastery and gave his pa.s.sion the rein, overwhelming her with those devouring kisses that from the very outset had always filled her with an indefinable sense of shame. She was quite powerless to frustrate him. The delicate barrier of her reserve was rudely torn away. The burning blush on face and neck served but to feed the flame. He kissed the panting throat as if he would draw the very life out of it. There was fierce possession in the holding of his arms. She thought she would never be free again.

The first fiery wave spent itself at last, but even then he did not let her go. He held her pressed to him, and she lay against his breast trembling but wholly pa.s.sive, overcome by an inexplicable longing to hide, to hide.

After a few seconds he spoke to her, his voice oddly unsteady, very deep.

"You're driving me mad, Daphne. Do you know that?"

"I--I'm sorry," she faltered, trying to shelter her tingling face in his coat.

His arms were tense about her. "I want you more and more every day," he said. "I don't know how to wait for you. How long is it to our wedding?"

"Three weeks and four days," she told him faintly.

He gave his low, quivering laugh, "What! You are counting the days too!

Daphne! My Daphne! Need we wait--all that time?"

Dinah's thumping heart gave a great start and seemed to stop. "Oh yes,"

she gasped desperately. "Yes, I couldn't possibly--be ready sooner."

He put his face down to hers, as one who breathes the essence of a flower. "You are ready now," he said. "You will never be lovelier than you are to-night."

She tried to laugh, but his lips were too near. Her voice quavered piteously.

"Why do I wait for you?" he said, and in his words there beat a fierce unrest. "Why am I such a fool? I lie awake night after night consumed with the want of you. When I sleep, I am always chasing you, you will-o'-the-wisp; and you always manage to keep just out of reach." His arms tightened. His voice suddenly sank to a deep whisper. "Daphne! Shall I tell you what I am going to do?"

"What?" panted Dinah.

"I am going to take you right away over the hills to-morrow to a place I know of where it is as lonely as the Sahara, and we will have a picnic there all to ourselves--all to ourselves, and make up for to-day."

His lips pressed hers again, but she withdrew herself with a sharp effort. There was nameless terror in her heart.

"Oh, I can't, Eustace! I can't indeed!" she said, and now she was striving, striving impotently, for freedom. "I'm going up to town with Isabel."

"Isabel can wait," he said.

"No! No! I must go. You don't understand. There are no end of things to be done." Dinah was as one encircled by fire, searching wildly round for a means of escape. "I must go!" she said again. "I must go!"

"You can go the next day," he said with arrogance. "I want you to-morrow and I mean to have you. Look at me, Dinah!"

She glanced at him, compelled by the command of his tone, met the fiery intensity of his look, and sank helpless, conquered.

He kissed her again. "There! That's settled. You silly little thing! Why do you always beat your wings against the inevitable? Do you think you are going to get away from me now?"

She hid her face against his shoulder. She was almost in tears. "You--you hurt me! You frighten me!" she whispered.

"Do I?" he said, and still in his voice she heard that deep note that made her whole being quiver. "It's your own fault, my Daphne. You shouldn't run away."

"I--I can't help it," she said tremulously. "I sometimes think--I'm not big enough for you."

"You'll grow," he said.

"I don't know," she answered in distress. "I may not. And if I do, I feel--I feel as if I shan't be myself any longer, but just--but just--a bit of you!"