He bore his brother off with him, and Dinah went rather wistfully to help Biddy pack.  She had done right, she knew; but it was difficult to stifle the regret in her heart.  She had so longed for that one last dance, and it seemed to her that she had treated Sir Eustace somewhat shabbily also.  She was sure that he was displeased, and the thought of it troubled her.  For she had almost promised him that last dance.

“Arrah thin, Miss Dinah dear, don’t ye look so sad at all!” counselled Biddy.  “Good times pass, but there’s always good times to come while ye’re young.  And it’s the bonny face ye’ve got on ye.  Sure, there’ll be a fine wedding one of these days.  There’s a prince looking for ye, or me name’s not Biddy Maloney.”

Dinah tried to smile, but her heart was heavy.  She could not share Biddy’s cheery belief in the good times to come, and she was quite sure that no prince would ever come her way.

Sir Eustace—­that king among men—­might think of her sometimes, but not seriously, oh no, not seriously.  He had so many other interests.  It was only her dancing that drew him, and he would never have another opportunity of enjoying that.

She rested in the afternoon at Isabel’s desire, but she did not sleep.  Some teasing sprite had set a waltz refrain running in her brain, and it haunted her perpetually.  She went down to the vestibule with Isabel for tea, and here Scott joined them; but Sir Eustace did not put in an appearance.  In their company she sought to be cheerful, and in a measure succeeded; but the thought of the morrow pressed upon her.  In another brief twenty-four hours this place where she had first known the wonder and the glory of life would know her no more.  In two days she would be back in the old bondage, chained once more to the oar, with the dread of her mother ever present in her heart, however fair the world might be.

She could keep her depression more or less at bay in the presence of her friends, but when later she went to her room to prepare for dinner something like desperation seized her.  How was she going to bear it?  One last wild fling would have helped her, but this inaction made things infinitely worse, made things intolerable.

While she dressed, she waged a fierce struggle against her tears.  She knew that Isabel would be greatly distressed should she detect them, and to hurt Isabel seemed to her the acme of selfish cruelty.  She would not give way!  She would not!

And then—­suddenly she heard a step in the corridor, and her heart leapt.  Well she knew that careless, confident tread!  But what was he doing there?  Why had he come to her door?

With bated breath she stood and listened.  Yes, he had paused.  In a moment she heard a rustle on the floor.  A screw of paper appeared under the door as though blown in by a wandering wind.  Then the careless feet retreated again, and she thought she heard him whistling below his breath.