Part 61 (1/2)

”Oh, Eustace, I have had such a lovely time!” she told him. ”It has been a perfect day.”

She offered him her lips with a child's simplicity, but blushed deeply when she felt the hot pressure of his, turning her face aside the moment he released her.

He laughed a little, keeping his arm about her shoulders. ”You haven't missed me then?” he said.

”Oh, not a bit,” said Dinah truthfully; and then quickly, ”but what a horrid thing to say! Why did you put it like that?”

”I wanted to know,” said Sir Eustace.

She turned back to him. ”I should have missed you if I hadn't been so busy. Isabel is going to help me with my trousseau. And oh, Eustace, I am to have such a crowd of lovely things.”

He pinched her cheek. ”What should a brown elf need beyond a s.h.i.+ft of thistle-down? Where is Isabel?”

”She is resting now. She got so tired. Biddy said she must lie down, and we mustn't disturb her for tea. I do hope it wasn't too much for her, Eustace.”

”Too much for her! Nonsense! It does her good to think of someone else besides herself,” said Eustace. ”If Biddy didn't coddle her so in the day time, she would sleep better at night. Well, where is tea? In the drawing-room? Come along and have it!”

Dinah clung to his arm. ”It--it's in a place called my lady's boudoir,”

she told him shyly.

He looked at her. ”Where? Oh, I know. That inner sanctuary with the west window. You've taken a fancy to it, have you? Then we will call it Daphne's Bower.”

Dinah's laugh was not without a hint of restraint. ”I haven't been in any other room. Scott said you would show me everything. But I just wandered in there, and he found me and showed me the dear little boudoir. He said you were going to have it done up.”

”So I am,” said Eustace. ”Everything that belongs to you must be new.

Have you decided what colour will suit you best?”

They were pa.s.sing through the long drawing-room towards the curtained doorway that led into the little boudoir. The drawing-room was a palatial apartment with stately French furniture that Dinah surveyed with awe. She could not picture herself as hostess in so magnificent a setting. She could only think of Rose de Vigne. It would have suited her flawless beauty perfectly, and she knew that Rose's self-contained heart would have revelled in such an atmosphere.

But it made her feel a stranger, and she hastened through it to the cosier nest beyond.

This was a far more homely spot. The furniture here was French also, and exquisitely delicate; but it was designed for comfort, and the gilded state of the outer room was wholly absent.

A tea-table stood near a deeply-cus.h.i.+oned settee, and the kettle sang merrily over a spirit-lamp.

Eustace dropped on to the settee and drew her suddenly and wholly unexpectedly down upon his knee.

”Oh, Eustace!” she gasped, turning crimson.

He wound his arms about her, holding her two hands imprisoned. ”Oh, Daphne!” he mocked softly. ”I've caught you--I've caught you! Here in your own bower with no one to look on! No, you can't even flutter your wings now. You've got to stay still and be wors.h.i.+pped.”

He spoke with his face against her neck. She felt the burning of his breath, and something;--an urgent, inner prompting--warned her to submit.

She sat there in his grasp in quivering silence.

His arms drew her nearer, nearer. It was as if he were gradually merging her whole being into his. In a moment, with a little gasp, she gave him her trembling lips.

He uttered a low laugh of mastery and gave his pa.s.sion the rein, overwhelming her with those devouring kisses that from the very outset had always filled her with an indefinable sense of shame. She was quite powerless to frustrate him. The delicate barrier of her reserve was rudely torn away. The burning blush on face and neck served but to feed the flame. He kissed the panting throat as if he would draw the very life out of it. There was fierce possession in the holding of his arms. She thought she would never be free again.

The first fiery wave spent itself at last, but even then he did not let her go. He held her pressed to him, and she lay against his breast trembling but wholly pa.s.sive, overcome by an inexplicable longing to hide, to hide.