“Of course—­I shall love it,” Dinah said.

“I am glad of that, for it will be a great help to me to have him there.  You will be able to have Billy to stay with you in the holidays and roam about as you like.  Scott is making all sorts of plans.  I am going to settle the place on him as a wedding-present.”

“Oh, Eustace!  How kind!  What a lovely gift!”

Sir Eustace smiled at her.  “I am giving him more than that, Dinah.  I am giving him his wife and—­the wedding-ring.”  The irony was uppermost again, but it held no sting.  “It will fit no other hand but yours, and it will serve to keep you in constant remembrance of your good luck.  I can hear him coming up the path.  Aren’t you going to meet him?”

She sprang up like a startled fawn.  “Oh, I can’t—­I can’t meet him yet,” she said desperately.

There was a curious glint in Eustace’s eyes as he watched her, a flash of mockery that came and went.

“What?” he said.  “Do you want me to help you to run away from him now?”

She looked at him quickly, and in a moment her hesitation was gone.

“Oh, no!” she said.  “No!” and with a little breathless sound that might have been a tremor of laughter, she fled away from him out into the evening sunshine to meet her lover.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE SEVENTH HEAVEN

They were married in the early morning at the little old church that had nestled for centuries among its trees in the village on the cliff.  The absolute simplicity of the service deprived it of all terrors for Dinah.  Standing with Scott in the glow of sunlight that smote full upon them through the mellow east window, she could not feel afraid.  The whole world was so bright, so full of joy.

“Do you think Isabel can see us now?” she whispered to him, as they rose together from kneeling before the altar.

He did not answer her in words, but his pale eyes were shining with that steadfast light of the spirit which she had come to know.  She wished she could have knelt there by his side a little longer.  They seemed to be so near to the Gates of Heaven.

But they were not alone, and they could not linger.  Sir Eustace who had given her away, Biddy who had tenderly supported her, the nurse who carried the fragrant bouquet of honeysuckle—­the bond of love—­which she had herself gathered for the bride, all were waiting to draw them back to earth again; and with Scott’s hand clasping hers she turned regretfully and left the holy place.

Later, when Sir Eustace kissed her with the careless observation that he always kissed a bride, she had a moment of burning shyness, and she would gladly have hidden her face.  But Scott did not kiss her.  He had not offered to do so since that wonderful moment when he had first held her against his heart.  He had not attempted to make love to her, and she had not felt the need of it.  Grave and practical, he had laid his plans before her, and with the supreme confidence that he had always inspired in her she had acquiesced to all.