CHAPTER XXII
THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW
After that interview with Scott there followed a long, long period ofpain and weakness for Dinah. She who had never known before what it meantto be ill went down to the Valley of the Shadow and lingered there formany days and nights. And there came a time when those who watched besideher began to despair of her ever turning back.
So completely had she lost touch with the ordinary things of life thatshe knew but little of what went on around her, dwelling as it wereapart, conscious sometimes of agonizing pain, but more often of adreadful sinking as of one overwhelmed in the billows of an everlastingsea. At such times she would cling piteously to any succouring hand,crying to them to hold her up--only to hold her up. And if the hand werethe hand of Greatheart, she always found comfort at length and a sense ofsecurity that none other could impart.
Her fancy played about him very curiously in those days. She saw him inmany guises,--as prince, as knight, as magician; but never as the meanand insignificant figure which first had caught her attention on thatsunny morning before the fancy-dress ball.
This man who sat beside her bed of suffering for hours together becauseshe fretted when he went away, who held her up when the gathering billowsthreatened to overwhelm her fainting soul, who prayed for her with theutmost simplicity when she told him piteously that she could not pray forherself, this man was above and beyond all ordinary standards. She lookedup to him with reverence, as one of colossal strength who had power withGod.
But she never dreamed again that golden dream of Greatheart in hisshining armour with the light of a great worship in his eyes. That hadbeen a wild flight of presumptuous fancy that never could come true.
His was not the only hand to which she clung during those terrible daysof fear and suffering. Another presence was almost constantly beside hernight and day,--a tender, motherly presence that watched over andministered to her with a devotion that never slackened. For some timeDinah could not find a name for this gracious and comforting presence,but one day when a figure clothed in a violet dressing-gown stooped overher to give her nourishment an illuminating memory came to her, and fromthat moment this loving nurse of hers filled a particular niche in herheart which was dedicated to the Purple Empress. She could think of noother name for her. That quiet and stately presence seemed to demand aroyal appellation. In her calmer moments Dinah liked to lie and watch thestill face with its crown of silvery hair. She loved the touch of thewhite hands that always knew with unerring intuition exactly what neededto be done. There seemed to be healing in their touch.
Very strangely the thought of Eustace never came to her, or coming, butflitted unrecorded and undetained across the surface of her mind. He hadreceded with all the rest of the world into the far, far distance thatlay behind her. He had no place in this region of many shadows wherethese others so tenderly guided her wandering feet. No one else had anyplace there save old Biddy who, being never absent, seemed a part of theatmosphere, and the doctor who came and went like a presiding genie inthat waste of desolation.
She did not welcome his visits, although he was invariably kind, for onone occasion she caught a low murmur from him to the effect that hermother had better come to her, and this suggestion had thrown her into amost painful state of apprehension. She had implored them weeping to lether mother stay away, and they had hushed her with soothing promises; butshe never saw the doctor thereafter without a nervous dread that shemight also see her mother's gaunt figure accompanying him. And she wassure--quite sure--that her mother would be very angry with her when shesaw her helplessness.
Nightmares of her mother's advent began to trouble her. She would startup in anguish of soul, scarcely believing in the soothing arms that heldher till their tenderness hushed her back to calmness.
"No one can come to you, sweetheart, while I am here." How often sheheard the low words murmured lovingly over her head! "See, I am holdingyou! You are quite safe. No one can take you from me."
And Dinah would cling to her beloved empress till her panic died away.
On one of these occasions Scott was present, and he presently left thesick-room with a look in his eyes that gave him a curiously hardexpression. He went deliberately in search of Billy whom he found playinga not very spirited game with the two little daughters of theestablishment. The weather had broken, and several people had left inconsequence.
Billy was bored as well as anxious, and his attitude said as much as heunceremoniously left his small playfellows to join Scott.
"Just amusin' the kids," he observed explanatorily. "How is she now?"
Scott linked his hand in the boy's arm. "She's pretty bad, Billy," hesaid. "Both lungs are affected. The doctor thinks badly of her, though hestill hopes he may pull her through."
"You may you mean," returned Billy. "Can't say the de Vignes have putthemselves out at all over her. There's Rose flirts all day long withyour brother, and Lady Grace grumbling continually about the folly ofundertaking other people's responsibilities. She swears she must get backat the end of next week for their precious house-party. And the Colonelfumes and says the same. I told him I shouldn't go unless she was out ofdanger, though goodness knows, sir, I don't want to sponge on you."
Scott's hand pressed his arm reassuringly. "Don't imagine such a thingpossible!" he said. "Of course you must stay if she isn't very muchbetter by that time. But now, Billy, tell me--if it isn't an unwelcomequestion--why doesn't your sister want your mother to come to her?"
Billy gave him one of his shrewd glances. "She's told you that, has she?Well, you know the mater is rather a queer fish, and I doubt very much ifshe'd come if you asked her."
"My good fellow!" Scott said. "Not if she were dying?"
"I doubt it," said Billy, unmoved. "You see, the mater hasn't much usefor Dinah, except as a maid-of-all work. Never has had. It's notaltogether her fault. It's just the way she's made."
"Good heavens!" said Scott, and added, as if to himself, "That littlefairy thing!"
"She can't help it," said Billy. "She can't get on with the femalespecies. It's like cats, you know,--a sort of jealousy."
"And your father?" questioned Scott, the hard look growing in his eyes.
"Oh, Dad!" said Billy, smiling tolerantly. "He's all right--quite adecent sort. But you wouldn't get him to leave home in the middle of thehunting season. He's one of the Whips."
Scott's hand had tightened unconsciously to a grip. Billy looked at himin surprised interrogation, and was amazed to see a heavy frown drawingthe colourless brows. There was a fiery look in the pale eyes also thathe had never seen before.
He waited in silence for developments, being of a wary disposition, andin a moment Scott spoke in a voice of such concentrated fury that Billyfelt as if a total stranger were confronting him.
"An infernal and blackguardly shame!" he said. "It would serve them rightif the little girl never went back to them again. I never heard of suchdamnable callousness in all my life before."
Billy opened his eyes wide, and after a second or two permitted himself asoft whistle.
Scott's hold upon his arm relaxed. "Yes, I know," he said. "I've no rightto say it to you. But when the blood boils, you've got to let off thesteam somehow. I suppose you've written to tell them all about her?"
"Oh yes, I wrote, and so did the Colonel. I had a letter from Dad thismorning. He said he hoped she was better and that she was being welllooked after. That's like Dad, you know. He never realizes a thing unlesshe's on the spot. I daresay I shouldn't myself," said Billybroadmindedly. "It's want of imagination in the main."
"Or want of heart," said Scott curtly.
Billy did not attempt to refute the amendment. "It's just the way youchance to be made," he said philosophically. "Of course I'm fond ofDinah. We're pals. But Dad's an easy-going sort of chap. He isn'tspecially fond of anybody. The mater,--well, she's keen on me, Isuppose," he blushed a little; "but, as I said before, she hasn't muchuse for Dinah. Even when she was a sm
all kid, she used to whip her noend. Dinah is frightened to death at her. I don't wonder she doesn't wanther sent for."
Scott's face was set in stern lines. "She certainly shall not be sentfor," he said with decision. "The poor child shall be left in peace."
"She is going to get better, isn't she?" said Billy quickly.
"I hope so, old chap. I hope so." Scott patted his shoulder kindly andprepared to depart.
But Billy detained him a moment. "I say, can't I come and see her?"
"Not now, lad." Scott paused, and all the natural kindliness came backinto his eyes. "My sister was just getting her calm again when I cameaway. We won't disturb her now."
"How is your sister, sir?" asked Billy. "Isn't she feeling the strainrather?"
"No, she is standing it wonderfully. In fact," Scott hesitatedmomentarily, "I believe that in helping Dinah, she has found herselfagain."
"Do you really?" said Billy. "Then I do hope for her sake that Dinah willbuck up and get well."
"Thanks, old chap." Scott held out a friendly hand. "I'm sorry you'rehaving such a rotten time. Come along to me any time when you're feelingbored! I shall be only too pleased when I'm at liberty."
"You're a brick, sir," said Billy. "And I say, you'll send for me, won'tyou, if--if--" He broke off. "You know, as I said before, Dinah and I arepals," he ended wistfully.
"Of course I will, lad. Of course I will." Scott wrung his hand hard."But we'll pull her through, please God! We must pull her through."
"If anyone can, you will," said Billy with conviction.
Like Dinah, he had caught a glimpse in that brief conversation of thesoul that inhabited that weak and puny form.