She put out her little wasted hand.  “I could be happy with you anywhere,” she said simply.  “But it doesn’t seem right.”

“Of course it is right,” he made quiet reply.  “In fact, if you ask me, I think it is our business rather than anyone else’s to get you well again.”

She flushed in quick embarrassment.  “Oh, please, you mustn’t put it like that.  And I have been such a trouble to everyone ever since.”

He smiled at her very kindly.  “Biddy says you are a blessing from the Almighty, and I quite agree with her.  It is settled then?  You are content to stay with us until we take you home?”

Her hand was clasped in his, but she did not meet his look.  “Oh, much more than content,” she said, her voice very low.  “Only—­”

“Only?” he said gently.

She made an effort to lift her eyes, but dropped them again instantly.  “It will make it much harder to go home,” she said.

She thought he sounded somewhat grim as he said, “There is no need to meet troubles half-way, you know.  You won’t be strong enough for the journey for some time to come.”

“I wish I could stay just as I am now,” she told him tremulously, “for ever and ever and ever.”

“Ah!” he said, with a faint sigh.  “It is not given to any of us to bask in the sun for long.”

And so, two days after, the de Vignes paid a state visit of farewell to Dinah, now pronounced out of danger but still pitiably weak,—­so weak that she cried when the Colonel bade her be a good girl and get well enough to come home as soon as possible, so as not to be a burden to these kind friends of hers longer than she need.

Lady Grace’s kiss was chilly and perfunctory.  “I also hope you will get well quickly, Dinah,” she said, “as I believe Mr. Studley and his sister are staying on mainly on your account.  Sir Eustace, I understand, is returning very shortly, and I have asked him to join our house-party.”

“Good-bye, dear!” murmured Rose, bending her smiling lips to kiss Dinah’s forehead.  “I am sorry your good time has had such a tragic end.  I was hoping that you might be allowed to come to the Hunt Ball, but I am afraid that is out of the question now.  Sir Eustace will be sorry too.  He says you are such an excellent little dancer.”

“Good-bye!” said Dinah, swallowing her tears.

She wept unrestrainedly when Billy bade her a bluff and friendly farewell, and he was practically driven from the room by Isabel; who then returned to her charge, gathered her close in her arms, and sat with her so, rocking her gently till gradually her agitation subsided.

“Do forgive me!” Dinah murmured at last, clinging round her neck.

To which Isabel made answer in that low voice of hers that so throbbed with tenderness whenever she spoke to her.  “Dear child, there is nothing to forgive.  You are tired and worn out.  I know just how you feel.  But never mind—­never mind!  Forget it all!”