“It was the truth,” Scott said.  He looked at her thoughtfully for a few seconds, then very kindly he patted her hand as it rested on the gate.  “Don’t be so distressed!” he said.  “It probably did him good—­even if it did hurt.  But I think you are right.  If Isabel has the smallest wish to see him, he must come.  I will see what I can do.”

Dinah gave him a difficult smile.  “You always put things right,” she said.

He lifted his shoulders with a whimsical expression.  “The magnifying-glass again!” he said.

“No,” she protested.  “No.  I see you as you are.”

“Then you see a very ordinary citizen,” he said.

But Dinah shook her head.  “A knight in disguise,” she said.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE MOUNTAIN SIDE

When Isabel opened her eyes after a slumber that had lasted for the greater part of the day, it was to find Scott seated beside her quietly watching her.

She reached a feeble hand to him with a smile of welcome.  “Dear Stumpy, when did you come?”

“An hour or two ago,” he said, and put the weak hand to his lips.  “You have had a good sleep, dear?”

“Yes,” she said.  “Yes.  It has done me good.”  She lay looking at him with a smile still in her eyes.  “I hope little Dinah is resting,” she said.  “She was with me nearly all night.  I didn’t wish it, Stumpy, but the dear child wouldn’t leave till I was more comfortable.”

“She is resting for a little now,” he said.  “I am so sorry you had a bad time last night.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry for me!” she said softly.  “My bad times are so nearly over now.  It is a waste of time to talk about them.  She sent for you, did she?”

He bent his head.  “She knew I would wish to be sent for.  She fancied you might be wanting me.”

“I do want you,” she said, and into her wasted face there came a look of unutterable tenderness.  “Oh, Stumpy darling, need you leave me again?”

He was still holding her hand; his fingers closed upon it at her words.

“I think the last part may be—­a little steep,” she said wistfully.  “I would like to feel that you are near at hand.  You have helped me so often—­so often.  And then too—­there is—­my little Dinah.  I want you to help her too.”

“God knows I will do my best, dear,” he said.

Her fingers returned his pressure.  “She has been so much to me—­so much to me,” she whispered.  “When I came here, I had no hope.  But the care of her, the comforting of her, opened the dungeon-door for me.  And now no Giant Despair will ever hold me captive again.  But I am anxious about her, Stumpy.  There is some trouble in the background of which she has never spoken—­of which she can never bear to speak.  Have you any idea what it is?”

He moved with an unwonted touch of restlessness.  “I think she worries about the future,” he said.