Dinah drew a little nearer to him.  “Do you mean—­that you think she won’t live very long?” she whispered.

“If you like to put it that way,” Scott answered quietly.

“Oh, but what of you?” she said.

She uttered the words almost involuntarily, and the next moment she would have recalled them, for she saw his face change.  For a second—­only a second—­she read suffering in his eyes.  But he answered her without hesitation.

“I shall just keep on, Dinah,” he said.  “It’s the only way.  But, as I think I’ve mentioned before, it’s no good meeting troubles half-way.  The day’s work is all that really matters.”

They walked on for a space in silence; then as they drew near the house he changed the subject.  But that brief shadow of a coming desolation dwelt in Dinah’s memory with a persistence that defied all lesser things.  He was brave enough, cheery enough, in the shouldering of his burden; but her heart ached when she realized how heavy that burden must be.

A message awaited her at the house that she would go to Isabel in her sitting-room, and she went, half-eager, half-diffident.  But as soon as she was with her friend her doubts were all gone.  For Isabel looked and spoke so much as usual that it seemed impossible to believe that she was indeed nearing the end of the journey.

She wanted to know all that Dinah had been doing, and they sat and discussed the decorations of the Dower House till the luncheon-hour.

When luncheon was over they repaired to a sheltered corner of the terrace, looking down over the garden to the river, while Scott went away to write letters; and here they talked over the serious matter of the trousseau with regard to which neither Dinah nor her mother had made any very definite arrangements.

Perhaps Mrs. Bathurst had foreseen the possibility of Isabel desiring to undertake this responsibility.  Perhaps Isabel had already dropped a hint of her intention.  In any case it seemed the most natural thing in the world that Isabel should be the one to assist and advise, and when Dinah demurred a little on the score of cost she found herself gently but quite effectually silenced.  Sir Eustace’s bride must have a suitable outfit, Isabel told her.  The question of ways and means was not one which need trouble her.

So Dinah obediently put the matter from her, and entered into the delightful discussion with keen zest.  Isabel’s ideas were so entrancing.  She knew exactly what she would need.  Her taste also was so simple, and so unerring.  Dinah had never before pictured herself as possessing such things as Isabel calmly proclaimed that she must have.

“We must go up to town to-morrow,” Isabel said, “and get things started.  It will mean the whole day, I am afraid.  Can you bear to be parted from Eustace for so long?”

Dinah laughed merrily at the question.  “Of course—­of course!  What fun it will be!  I always knew I should like to be married, but I never dreamt it could be so exciting as this.”