Dinah smiled, and drew the hand that had so often smoothed her pillow to her cheek.  But her eyes were upon Eustace, and she caught a parting gleam from his as with a gesture of farewell he turned away.

“I am much better,” she said to Isabel later, as she composed herself to rest.  “I feel as if I am going to sleep well.”

Isabel stooped to kiss her.  “Sleep is the best medicine in the world,” she said.

“Do you sleep better now?” Dinah asked, detaining her.

Isabel hesitated for a second.  “Oh yes, I sleep,” she said then.  “I am able to sleep now that you are safe, my darling.”

Dinah clung to her.  “I can’t think what I would do without you,” she murmured.  “No one was ever so good to me before.”

Isabel held her closely.  “Don’t you realize,” she said fondly, “that you have been my salvation.”

“Not—­not really?” faltered Dinah.

“Yes, really.”  There was a throb of passion in Isabel’s voice.  “I have been a prisoner for years, but you—­you, little Dinah,—­have set me free.  I am travelling forward again now—­like the rest of the world.”  She paused a moment, and her arms clasped Dinah more closely still.  “I do not think I have very far to go,” she said, speaking very softly.  “My night has been so long that I think the dawn cannot be far off now.  God knows how I am longing for it.”

“Oh, darling, don’t—­don’t!” whispered Dinah piteously.

“I won’t, dearest.”  Very tenderly Isabel kissed her again.  “I didn’t mean to distress you.  Only I want you to know that you are just all the world to me—­the main-spring of what life there is left to me.  I shall never forgive myself for leading you away on that terrible Sunday, and causing you all this suffering.”

“Oh, but I should have been home again by now if that hadn’t happened,” said Dinah quickly.  “See what I should have missed!  I’d far, far rather be ill with you than well at home.”

“Yours isn’t a happy home, sweetheart,” Isabel said gently.

“Not very,” Dinah admitted.  “But being away makes it seem much worse.  I have been so spoilt with you.”

Isabel smiled.  “I only wish I could keep you always, dear child.”

Dinah drew a sharp breath.  “Oh, if you only could!” she said.

Isabel pressed her to her heart, and laid her down.  “I must get you back to bed, dear,” she said.  “We have talked too long already.”

Late that night Isabel went softly to the door in answer to a low knock, and found Scott on the threshold.

She lifted a warning finger.  “She is asleep.”

“That’s right,” he said quietly.  “I only came to say good night to you.  Are you going to bed now?”

She looked at him with a faint smile in her shadowed eyes.  “I daresay I shall go some time,” she said; then seeing the concern in his eyes:  “Don’t worry about me, Stumpy dear.  I don’t sleep a great deal, you know; but I rest.”