“May I do as I like about—­about telling her?” Dinah asked, pausing.

Scott’s eyes shone with a very kindly gleam.  “Of course, I know you will not startle her.  You always do her good.”

The words followed her as she turned away.  How good he was to her!  How full of understanding and human sympathy!  Her heart throbbed with a warmth that filled her with an odd desire to weep.  She wished that Eustace did not treat him quite so arrogantly.

And then, looking back, she reproached herself for the thought; for Eustace had linked a hand in his arm, and she saw that they were walking together in complete accord.

“But I will never—­no, never—­call him Stumpy!” she said to herself, as she passed into the hotel.

She went up the stairs rapidly, and hastened to Isabel’s room.  That look she had caught in Scott’s face—­that stricken look—­had doubtless been brought there by his sudden anxiety for his sister.  That would fully account for it, she was sure.

On the threshold of Isabel’s room an overwhelming nervousness assailed her.  How was she going to tell her of the wonderful event that had taken place in the last half-hour?  On the other hand, how could she possibly suppress so tremendous a matter?  And again, the disquieting question arose; could she be ill—­really ill?  Scott had looked so troubled—­so unutterably sad.

With an effort she summoned her courage, and softly knocked.

Instantly a low voice answered her, bidding her enter.  She opened the door and went in, feeling as though she were treading sacred ground.

But Isabel’s voice spoke again instantly, greeting her; and in a moment all her doubts, all her forebodings, were gone.

“Come in, little sweetheart!” Isabel said.

And she advanced with quickened steps to find Isabel lying propped on the sofa, looking at her, smiling up at her, with such a glory on her wasted face as made it “as it had been the face of an angel.”

In an instant Dinah was on her knees beside her, with loving arms clasping her close.  “Oh, darling, I’ve only just heard.  Are you better?  Are you better?” she said yearningly.

Isabel held her, and fondly kissed the upturned lips.  “Why, I believe Scott has been frightening you,” she said.  “Silly fellow!  Yes, dear.  I am well—­quite well.”

“You are sure?” Dinah insisted.  “You are really not ill?”

Isabel’s smile had in it—­had she but known it—­a gleam of the Divine.  “My dearest, all is well with me,” she said.  “I lay down for a little to please Scott.  But I am going to get up now.  Where have you been since dejeuner?  I missed you.”

Dinah clung closer, hiding her face.

Instantly Isabel’s arms tightened.  The passionate tenderness of them thrilled her through and through.  “Why, child, what has happened?” she whispered.  “Tell me!  Tell me!”

But Dinah only hid her face a little deeper.  “I don’t know how,” she murmured.