She went to the window.  Billy had grown tired of waiting and gone off without her.  She fancied she could see his sturdy figure on the further slope.  Her eyes took in the whole lovely scene, and suddenly, effervescently, her spirits began to rise.  The inherent gaiety of her bubbled to the surface.  What a waste of time to stay here grizzling while that paradise lay awaiting her!  The sweetness of her nature began to assert itself once more, and an almost fevered determination to live in the present, to be happy while she could, entered into her.  With impetuous energy she pushed the evil thoughts away.  She would be happy.  She would!  She would!  And happiness was not difficult to Dinah.  It bubbled in her, a natural spring, that ever flowed again even after the worst storms had forced it from its course.

She even laughed to herself as she prepared to join Billy.  Life was good,—­oh yes, life was good!  And home and the trials thereof were many miles away.  Who could be unhappy for long in such a world as this, where the air sparkled like champagne, and the magic of it ran riot in the blood?

The black mood passed away from her spirit like a cloud.  She threw on cap and coat and ran to join the merry-makers.

CHAPTER XI

OLYMPUS

All through that afternoon Dinah and Billy played like cubs in the snow.  They were very inexperienced in the art of luging, but they took their spills with much heartiness and a total disregard of dignity that made for complete enjoyment.

When the sun went down they forsook the sport, and joined in a snowballing match with a dozen or more of their fellow-visitors.  But Dinah proved herself so adroit and impartial at this game that she presently became a general target, and found it advisable to retreat before she was routed.  This she did with considerable skill and no small strategy, finally darting flushed and breathless into the hotel, covered with snow from head to foot, but game to the last.

“Well done!” commented a lazy voice behind her.  “Now raise the drawbridge and lower the portcullis, and the honours of war are assured.”

She turned with the flashing movement of a bird upon the wing, and found herself face to face with Sir Eustace.

His blue eyes met hers with deliberate nonchalance.  “Sit down,” he said, “while I fetch you some tea!”

Her heart gave an odd little leap that was half of pleasure and half of dread.  She stammered incoherently that he must not take the trouble.

But he was evidently bent upon so doing, for he pressed her into the seat which he had just vacated.  “Keep the place in the corner for me!” he commanded, and lounged away upon his errand with imperial leisureliness.

Dinah watched his tall figure out of sight.  The encounter both astounded and thrilled her.  She wondered if she were cheapening herself by meekly obeying his behest, wondered what Rose—­that practised coquette—­would have done under such circumstances; but to depart seemed so wholly out of the question that she dismissed the wonder as futile.  She could only wait for the play to develop, and trust to her own particular luck, which had so favoured her the night before, to give her a cue.