Part 34 (1/2)

He might know of this shelter; but whether in the awful darkness he would ever be able to find it she strongly doubted. Their absence must have been discovered long since, she was sure; and Scott--Scott would be certain to think of the mountain path. He would remember his sister's wild words of the day before, and he would know that she, Dinah, had had no choice but to accompany her upon the mad quest. It comforted her to think that Scott would understand, and was already at work to help them.

If by any means deliverance could be brought to them she knew that Scott would compa.s.s it. His quiet and capable spirit was accustomed to grapple with difficulties, and the enormity of a task would never dismay him. He had probably organized a search-party long ere this. He would not rest until he had done his very utmost. She wondered if he would come himself to look for them; but discarded the idea as unlikely. His infirmity made progress on the mountains a difficult matter at all times, and he would not wish to hamper the movements of the others. That was like Scott, she reflected. He would always keep his own desires in the background, subservient to the needs of others. No, he would not come himself. He would stay behind in torturing inaction while fitter men fared forth.

The thought of Eustace came again to her. He would be one of the search-party. She pictured him forcing his way upwards, all his magnificent strength bent to the work. Her heart throbbed at the memory of that all-conquering presence--the arms that had held her, the lips that had pressed her own. And he had stooped to plead with her also. She would always remember that of him with a thrill of ecstasy. He the princely and splendid--Apollo the magnificent!

Always? A sudden chill smote her heart numbing her through and through.

Always? And Death waiting on the threshold to s.n.a.t.c.h her away from the wonderful joy she had only just begun to know! Always! Ah, would she remember even to-morrow--even to-morrow? And he--would he not forget?

Isabel stirred in her arms and murmured an inarticulate complaint.

Tenderly she drew her closer. How cold it was! How cruelly, how bitingly cold! All her bones were beginning to ache. A dreadful stiffness was creeping over her. How long would her senses hold out, she wondered piteously? How long? How long?

It must be hours now since they had entered that freezing place, and with every minute it seemed to be growing colder. Never in her life had she imagined anything so searching, so agonizing, as this cold. It held her in an iron rigour against which she was powerless to struggle. The strength to clasp Isabel in her arms was leaving her. She thought that her numbed limbs were gradually turning to stone. Even her lips were so numbed with cold that she could not move them. The steam of her breath had turned to ice upon the wool of her coat.

The need for prayer came upon her suddenly as she realized that her faculties were failing. Her belief in G.o.d was of that dim and far-off description that brings awe rather than comfort to the soul. The sudden thought of Him came upon her in the darkness like a thunderbolt. In all her life Dinah had never asked for anything outside her daily prayers which were of a strictly formal description. She had shouldered her own troubles una.s.sisted with the philosophy of a disposition that was essentially happy. She had seldom given a serious thought to the life of the spirit. It was all so vague to her, so far removed from the daily round and the daily burden. But now--face to face with the coming night--the spiritual awoke in her. Her soul cried out for comfort.

With Isabel still clasped in her failing arms, she began a desperate prayer for help. Her words came haltingly. They sounded strange to herself. But with all the strength that remained she sent forth her cry to the Infinite. And even as she prayed there came to her--whence she knew not--the conviction that somewhere--probably not more than a couple of miles from her though the darkness made the distance seem immeasurable--Scott was praying too. That thought had a wonderfully comforting effect upon her. His prayer was so much more likely to be answered than hers. He was just the sort of man who would know how to pray.

”How I wish he were here!” she whispered piteously into the darkness. ”I shouldn't be afraid of dying--if only he were here.”

She was certain--quite certain--that had he been there with her, no fear would have reached her. He wore the armour of a strong man, and by it he would have s.h.i.+elded her also.

”Oh, dear Mr. Greatheart,” she murmured through her numb lips, ”I'm sure you know the way to Heaven.”

Isabel stirred again as one who moves in restless slumber. ”We must scale the peaks of Paradise to reach it,” she said.

”Are you awake, dearest?” asked Dinah very tenderly.

Isabel's head was sunk against her shoulder. She moved it, slightly raised it. ”Yes, I am awake,” she said. ”I am watching for the dawn.”

”It won't come yet,” whispered Dinah tremulously. ”It's a long, long way off.”

Isabel moved a little more, feeling for Dinah in the darkness. ”Are you frightened, little one?” she said. ”Don't be frightened!”

Dinah swallowed down a sob. ”It is so dark,” she murmured through chattering teeth. ”And so, so cold.”

”You are cold, dear heart?” Isabel sat up suddenly. ”Why should you be cold?” she said. ”The darkness is nothing to those who are used to it. I have lived in outer darkness for seven weary years. But now--now I think the day is drawing near at last.”

With an energy that astounded Dinah she got upon her knees and by her movements she realized, albeit too late, that she was divesting herself of the long purple coat.

With all her strength she sought to frustrate her, but her strength had become very feebleness; and when, despite resistance, Isabel wrapped her round in the garment she had discarded, her resistance was too puny to take effect.

”My dear,” Isabel said, in her voice the deep music of maternal tenderness, ”I am not needing it. I shall not need any earthly things for long. I am going to meet my husband in the dawning. But you--you will go back.”

She fastened the coat with a quiet dexterity that made Dinah think again of Scott, and sat down again in her corner as if unconscious of the cold.

”Come and lie in my arms, little one!” she said. ”Perhaps you will be able to sleep.”

Dinah crept close. ”It will kill you--it will kill you!” she sobbed. ”Oh, why did I let you?”

Isabel's arms closed about her. ”Don't cry, dear!” she murmured fondly.