She uttered a quick sigh.  “Happiness isn’t everything, is it?”

“Not everything, no,” he said.

She grasped his hand hard.  “I’m going to try to be good instead,” she said.  “Will you help me?”

He smiled at her somewhat sadly.  “If you think my help worth having,” he said.

“But of course it is,” she made warm answer.  “You are the strong man who helps everyone.  You are—­Greatheart.”

He looked at her still smiling and slowly shook his head.  “Now, if you don’t mind,” he said, “I will write my note to Isabel.”

CHAPTER XXII

SPOKEN IN JEST

The afternoon was well advanced when Scott returned to Perrythorpe Court.  No sounds of revelry greeted him as he entered.  A blazing fire was burning in the hall, but no one was there to enjoy the warmth.  The gay crowd that had clustered before the great hearth only yesterday had all dispersed.  The place was empty.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” enquired the man who admitted him.

His voice was sepulchral.  Scott smiled a little.  “Yes, please.  A whisky and soda.  Where is everybody?”

“The Colonel and Miss Rose went out riding, sir, after the guests had all gone, and they have not yet returned.  Her ladyship is resting in her room.”

“Everyone gone but me?” questioned Scott, with a whimsical lift of the eyebrows.

The man bent his head decorously.  “I believe so, sir.  There was a general feeling that it would be more fitting as the marriage was not to take place as arranged.  I understand, sir, that the family will shortly migrate to town.”

“Really?” said Scott.

He bent over the fire, for the evening was chilly, and he was tired to the soul.  The man coughed and withdrew.  Again the silence fell.

A face he knew began to look up at Scott out of the leaping flames—­a face that was laughing and provocative one moment, wistful and tear-stained the next.

He heaved a sigh as he followed the fleeting vision.  “Will she ever be happy again?” he asked himself.

The last sight he had had of her had cut him to the heart.  She had conquered her tears at last, but her smile was the saddest thing he had ever seen.  It was as though her vanished childhood had suddenly looked forth at him and bidden him farewell.  He felt that he would never see the child Dinah again.

The return of the servant with his drink brought him back to his immediate surroundings.  He sat down in an easy-chair before the fire to mix it.

The man turned to go, but he had not reached the end of the hall when the front-door bell rang again.  He went soft-footed to answer it.

Scott glanced over his shoulder as the door opened, and heard his own name.

“Is Mr. Studley here?” a man’s voice asked.

“Yes, sir.  Just here, sir,” came the answer, and Scott rose with a weary gesture.