But always the memory of Scott shot her triumph through with a regret so poignant as to deprive it of all lasting rapture. She had hurt him, she had disappointed him; she did not know how she would ever look him in the eyes again.
Her sleep throughout that last night was broken and unrefreshing, and ever the haunting strains of Simple Aveu pulsed through her brain like a low voice calling her perpetually, refusing to be stilled. Only one night more and she would be back in her home; this glittering, Alpine dream would be over, never to return. And again she turned on her pillow and wept. It was so hard, so hard, to go back.
In the morning she arose white-faced and weary, with dark shadows under her eyes, and a head that throbbed tormentingly. She breakfasted with Isabel in the latter's room, and was again deeply grateful to her friend for forbearing to comment upon her subdued manner. She could not make any pretence at cheerfulness that day, being in fact still so near to tears that she could scarcely keep from breaking down.
"Don't wait for me, dear!" Isabel said gently at length. "I see you are not hungry. We are taking some provisions with us; perhaps you will feel more like eating presently."
Dinah escaped very thankfully and returned to her own room.
Here she remained for awhile till more sure of herself; then Biddy came in to finish her packing and she slipped away to avoid the old woman's shrewd observation. She feared to go downstairs lest she should meet Scott; but presently, as she hovered in the passage, she heard his halting tread in the main corridor.
He was evidently on his way to his sister's room, and seizing her opportunity, she ran like a hare in the opposite direction and managed to slip downstairs without adventure.
She was not to escape unnoticed, however. The first person she encountered in the vestibule came forward instantly at sight of her with the promptitude of one who has been lying in wait.
She recoiled with a gasp, but she could not run away. She was caught as surely as she had been the night before.
"Hullo!" smiled Sir Eustace, with extended hand. "Going out for a last look round? May I come too?"
She felt the dominance of his grip. It was coolly, imperially possessive. To answer his request seemed superfluous, even bordering upon presumption. It was obvious that he had every intention of accompanying her.
She gave a confused murmur of assent, and they passed through the vestibule side by side. She was conscious of curious glances from several strangers who were standing about, and Eustace exchanged a few words with a species of regal condescension here and there as they went. And then they were out in the pure sunlight of the mountains, alone for the last time in their paradise of snow.