He was very white, but absolutely calm.  There was a nobility about him at that moment that sent a queer little throb to Dinah’s heart.  He held out his hand, not to her, but to Scott.  “She is gone,” he said.

Scott went to him; she saw their hands meet.  There was no agitation about either of them.

“In her sleep?” Scott said.

“Yes.  We didn’t even know—­till it was over.”

They turned into the room, still hand grasping hand.

And Dinah knelt up and stretched out her arms to the shining morning sky.  Something within her was whispering that she and Scott had seen more of the passing of Isabel than any of those who had watched beside her bed.  And in the quiet of that wonderful morning, she offered her quivering thanks to God.

CHAPTER XXVIII

CONSOLATION

Of the long hours that followed that wonderful dawning Dinah never had any very distinct recollection.  Even Scott seemed to forget her for a while, and it was old Biddy who presently found her curled up on the window-seat with her head upon the sill asleep—­Biddy with her eyes very bright and alert, albeit deeply rimmed with red.

She came to the childish, drooping figure, murmuring tender words.  She put wiry arms about her and lifted her to her feet.

“There!  Come to your own room and rest, my lamb!” she said.  “Old Biddy’ll take care of ye, aroon.”

Dinah submitted with the vague docility of a brain but half-awakened.  To be cared for and petted by Biddy was no new thing in her experience.  She even felt as if the old crystal Alpine days had returned, as Biddy undressed her and presently tucked her into bed.  Later, still in semi-consciousness, she drank the hot milk that the old woman brought her, and then sank into a deep, deep sleep.

She awakened from that sleep with a sense of well-being such as she had never known before, a feeling of complete security and rest.  The house was very quiet, and through the curtained window there came to her the soft, slumberous splash of the waves.

She lay very still, listening to the soothing murmur, gradually focusing her mind again after its long oblivion.  The memory of the previous night and of the coming of the dawn came back to her, and with it the thought of Isabel; but without grief and without regret.  They had left her on the mountain-top, and she knew that all must be well.

A great peace seemed to have fallen like a veil upon the whole house.  Surely no one could be mourning over that glad release!  She saw again the flashing of those free wings in the dawn-light, and her heart thrilled afresh.  She remembered too the close, strong clasp of Scott’s hand as he had watched with her.

Where was Scott now?  The wonder darted suddenly through her brain, and with it, swift as a flying cloud-shadow, came the want of him, the longing for the quiet voice, the quivering delight of his near presence.  She half-raised herself, and then, caught by another thought, sank down again to hide her burning face in the pillow.  It would be a little difficult to meet him again.  On the old easy terms of friendship it could not be, and they had hardly begun to be lovers yet.  He—­had not even—­kissed her!