"No." Scott's voice rang on a hard note. "She probably doesn't. But you needn't go home for it. Run back to that farm we pa.s.sed just now, and see if you can get some hot milk! Be quick like a good chap! Here's the money! I'll wait here."

Billy seized his bicycle and departed on his errand.

Scott began to walk his horse up and down, for inactivity was unbearable.

Every moment he spent away from poor, broken Dinah was torturing. Those dreadful, hopeless tears of hers filled him with foreboding. He yearned to return.

Billy's absence lasted for nearly a quarter of an hour, and he was beginning to get desperate over the delay when at last the boy returned carrying a can of milk and a mug.

"I had rather a bother to get it," he explained. "People are so mighty difficult to stir, and I didn't want to tell 'em too much. I've promised to take these things back again. I say, can't I come along with you now?"

"I'd rather you didn't," Scott said. "I can manage best alone. Besides, I'm going to ask you to do something more."

"Anything!" said Billy readily.

"Thanks. Well, will you ride this animal into Great Mallowes, hire a closed car, and send it to the bridge here to pick me up? Then take him back to the Court, and if anyone asks any questions, say I've met a friend and I'm coming back on foot, but I may not be in to luncheon. Yes, that'll do, I think. I'll see about returning these things. Much obliged, Billy. Good-bye!"

Billy looked somewhat disappointed at this dismissal, but the prospect of a ride was dear to his boyish heart, and in a moment he nodded cheerily.

"All right, I'll do that. I'll hide my bicycle in the wood and fetch it afterwards. But where are you going to take her to?"

Scott smiled also faintly and enigmatically. "Leave that to me, my good fellow! I shan't run away with her."

"But I shall see her again some time?" urged Billy, as he dumped his long-suffering machine over the railing and propped it out of sight behind the hedge.

"No doubt you will." Scott's tone was kindly and rea.s.suring. "But I think I can help her better just now than you can, so I'll be getting back to her. Good-bye, boy! And thanks again!"

"So long!" said Billy, vaulting back and thrusting his foot into the stirrup. "You might let me hear how you get on."

"I will," promised Scott.

CHAPTER XXI

THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION

When Scott reached the fallen tree again, Dinah's fit of weeping was over. She was lying exhausted and barely conscious against his coat.

She opened her eyes as he knelt down beside her. "You are--good," she whispered faintly.

He poured out some milk and held it to her. "Try to drink some!" he said gently.

She put out a trembling hand.

"No; let me!" he said.

She submitted in silence, and he lifted the gla.s.s to her lips and held it very steadily while slowly she drank.

Her eyes were swollen and burning with the shedding of many scalding tears. Now and then a sharp sob rose in her throat so that she could not swallow.

"Take your time!" he said. "Don't hurry it!"

But ere she finished, the tears were running down her face again. He set down the gla.s.s, and with his own handkerchief he wiped them away. Then he sat upon the low tree-trunk, and drew her to lean against him.

"When you're feeling better, we'll have a talk," he said.

She hid her face with a piteous gesture against his knee. "I don't see--the good of talking," she said, in m.u.f.fled accents. "It can't make things--any better."

"I'm not so sure of that," he said. "Anyhow we can't leave things as they are. You will admit that."

Dinah was silent.

He went on with the utmost gentleness. "I want to get you away from here.

Isabel is going down to Heath-on-Sea and she wants you to come too. It's a tiny place. We have a cottage there with the most wonderful garden for flowers you ever saw. It isn't more than thirty yards square, and there is a cliff path down to the beach. Isabel loves the place. The yacht is there too, and we go for cruises on calm days. I am hoping Isabel may pick up a little there, and she is always more herself when you are with her. You won't disappoint her, will you?"

A great-shiver went through Dinah. "I can't come," she said, almost under her breath. "It just--isn't possible."

"What is there to prevent?" he asked.

She moved a little, and lifted her head from its resting-place. "Ever so many things," she said.

"You are thinking of Eustace?" he questioned. "He has gone already--gone to town. He will probably go abroad; but in any case he will not get in your way."

"I wasn't thinking of him," Dinah said.

"Then of what?" he questioned. "Your mother? I will see her, and make that all right."

She started and lifted her face. "Oh no! Oh no! You must never dream of doing that!" she declared, with sudden fevered urgency. "I couldn't bear you to see her. You mustn't think of it, indeed--indeed! Why I would even--even sooner go back myself."

"Then I must write to her," he said, gently ceding the point. "It is not essential that I should see her. Possibly even, a letter would be preferable."

Dinah's face had flushed fiery red. She did not meet his eyes. "I don't see why you should have anything to do with her," she said. "You would never get her to consent."

"Then I propose that we act first," said Scott. "Isabel is leaving to-day. You can join her at Great Mallowes and go on together. I shall follow in a couple of days. There are several matters to be attended to first. But Isabel and Biddy will take care of you. Come, my dear, you won't dislike that so very badly!"

"Dislike it!" Dinah caught back another sob. "I should love it above all things if it were possible. But it isn't--it isn't."

"Why not?" he questioned. "Surely your father would not raise any objection?"

She shook her head. "No--no! He doesn't care what happens to me. I used to think he did; but he doesn't--he doesn't."

"Then what is the difficulty?" asked Scott.

She was silent, and he saw the hot colour spreading over her neck as she turned her face away.

"Won't you tell me?" he urged gently. "Is there some particular reason why you want to stay?"