Biddy gave her a quick, wise look.  “Will I tell ye a secret, Miss Dinah dear?” she whispered.

Dinah looked at her.  The old woman’s face was full of shrewd understanding.  “Yes, tell me!” she said somewhat breathlessly.

Biddy’s brown hand grasped her arm.  “Master Scott went to town this morning,” she said.  “He’ll be back any minute now.  Sir Eustace is downstairs.  He wants to see ye—­to tell ye something—­before Master Scott gets back.”

“Oh, what—­what?” gasped Dinah.

“There, now, there!  Don’t ye be afraid!” said Biddy, her beady eyes softening.  “It’s something ye’ll like.  Master Scott—­he’s not the gentleman to make ye do anything ye don’t want to do.  Don’t ye trust him, Miss Dinah?”

“Of course—­of course,” Dinah said, with trembling lips.

“Then ye’ve nothing to be afraid of,” said Biddy wisely.  “Faith, it’s only the marriage-licence he’s been to fetch!”

“Oh—­Biddy!” Dinah wheeled from the window, with both her hands over her heart.

Biddy nodded with grave triumph.  “It was Sir Eustace made him go.  Master Scott—­he didn’t think it would be dacent, not at first.  But, as Sir Eustace said, there’s more ways than one of being ondacent, and after all it was the dearest wish of Miss Isabel’s heart.  ’Don’t you be a conventional fool!’ he said.  And for once I agreed with him,” said Biddy naively, “though I think he needn’t have used bad language over it.”

“Oh—­Biddy!” Dinah said again, and then very oddly she began to smile, and the tension went out of her attitude.  She kissed the wrinkled cheek, and turned.  “I think perhaps I will go down and speak to Sir Eustace,” she said.

She went quickly, aware that if she suffered herself to pause, that overpowering shyness would seize upon her again.

Guided by the scent of cigarette-smoke, she entered the dining-room.  Sir Eustace was seated at a writing-table near the window.  He looked up swiftly at her entrance.

“Awake at last!” he said, and would have risen with the words, but she reached him first and checked him.

“Eustace!  Oh, Eustace!” she said.  “I—­I—­Biddy has just told me—­”

He frowned, as she stopped in confusion, steadying herself rather piteously against his shoulder.  But in a moment, seeing her agitation, he put a kindly arm around her.

“Biddy is an old fool—­always was.  Don’t take any notice of her!  What a ferment you’re in, child!  What’s the matter?  There, sit down!”

He drew her down on to the arm of his chair, and she leaned against him, striving for self-control.

“You—­you are so—­so much too good,” she murmured.

He smiled rather grimly.  “No one ever accused me of that before!  Was that the staggering piece of information that Biddy has imparted to you?”

“No,” she said, a fleeting smile upon her awn face.  “It was—­it was—­about Scott.  It took my breath away,—­that’s all.”