"Well, Stumpy," he said, "where's Isabel?"
Scott's companion jumped, and beat a swift retreat. Scott smiled a little as he made reply.
"I have been up to see her. She will be out presently. Biddy had to give her a sleeping-draught last night."
"Damn!" said the other in a fierce undertone. "Did she call you first?"
"No."
"Then why the devil didn't she? I shall sack that woman. Isabel hasn't a chance to get well with a mischievous old hag like that always with her."
"I think Isabel would probably die without her," Stumpy responded in his quiet voice which presented a vivid contrast to his brother's stormy utterance. "And Biddy would probably die too--if she consented to go, which I doubt."
"Oh, damn Biddy! The sooner she dies the better. She's nothing but a perpetual nuisance. What is Isabel like this morning?"
Scott hesitated, and his brother frowned.
"That's enough. What else could any one expect? Look here, Scott! This thing has got to end. I shall take that sleeping-stuff away."
"If you can get hold of it," put in Scott drily.
"You must get hold of it. You have ample opportunity. It's all very well to preach patience, but she has been taking slow poison for seven years. I am certain of it. It's ridiculous! It's monstrous! It's got to end." He spoke with impatient finality, his blue eyes challenging remonstrance.
Scott made none. Only after a moment he said, "If you take away one prop, old chap, you must provide another. A broken thing can't stand alone. But need we discuss it now? As I told you, she is coming out presently, and this glorious air is bound to make a difference to her. It tastes like wine."
It was at this point that the golden-haired girl in red suddenly glided up and sat down on the bank a few yards away to adjust a skate.
Sir Eustace turned his head, and a sparkle came into his eyes. He watched her for a moment, then left his brother without further words.
"Can I do that for you?" he asked.
She lifted a flushed face. "Oh, how kind of you! But I have just managed it. How lovely the ice is this morning!"
She rose with the words, balancing herself with a grace as finished as his own, and threw him a dazzling smile of gratitude. Scott, from his post of observation on the bank, decided that she certainly was beautiful. Her face was almost faultless. And yet it seemed to him that there was infinitely more of witchery in the face that had laughed from the window a few minutes before. Almost unconsciously he was waiting to see the owner of that face emerge.