“Do you mean that she admitted to you that—­she cared for someone?” Isabel asked.

Scott’s pale eyes had a quizzical look.  “I had the consideration to back out before she had time to do anything so unmaidenly,” he said.  “Possibly the shadowman may never materialize.  In fact it seems more than possible.  In which case the least said is soonest mended.”

“That may be what is troubling her,” Isabel said thoughtfully.

She lay still for a while, and Scott leaned back in his chair and watched the little pleasure-boats that skimmed the waters of the bay.  The merry cries of bathers came up to the quiet room.  The world was full to the brim of gaiety and sunshine on that hot June day.

“Stumpy,” gently his sister’s voice recalled him, “do you never mean to marry, dear?  I wish you would.  You will be so lonely.”

He lifted his shoulders.  “What can I say Isabel?  If the right woman comes along and proposes, I will marry her with pleasure.  I would never dare to propose on my own,—­being what I am.”

“Being a very perfect knight whom any woman might be proud to marry,” Isabel said.  “That is only a pose of yours, Stumpy, and it doesn’t become you.  I wonder—­how I wonder!—­if you are right about Dinah.”

“Yes, I am right,” he said with conviction.  “But Isabel, you will remember—­it was spoken in confidence.”

She gave a sharp sigh.  “I shall remember dear,” she said.

Again a brief silence fell between them; but Scott’s eye no longer sought the sparkling water.  They dwelt upon his sister’s face.  Pale as alabaster, clear-cut as though carven with a chisel, it rested upon the white pillow, and the stamp of a great peace lay upon the calm forehead and in the quiet of the deeply-sunken eyes.  There were lines of suffering that yet lingered about the mouth, lines of weariness and of sorrow, but the old piteous look of craving had faded quite away.  The bitter despair that had so haunted Dinah had passed into the stillness of a great patience.  There was about her at that time the sacred hush that falls before the dawn.

After a little she became aware of his quiet regard, and turned her head with a smile.  “Well, Stumpy?  What is it?”

“I was just wondering what had happened to you,” he made answer.

Her smile deepened.  “I will tell you, dear,” she said.  “I have come within sight of the mountain-top at last.”

“And you are satisfied?” he said, in a low voice.

Her eyes shone with a soft brightness that seemed to illumine her whole face.  “Satisfied that my beloved is waiting for me and that I shall meet him in the dawning?” she said.  “Oh yes, I have known that in my heart for a long time.  It troubled me terribly when I lost his letters.  They had been such a link, and for a while I was in outer darkness.  And then—­by degrees, after little Dinah came back to me—­I began to find that after all there were other links.