Greatheart

"Hush, Biddy, hush!" Isabel spoke with decision. "I hope--I trust--that he isn't very grievously disappointed. But if he is, it is the one thing that neither you nor I must ever seem to suspect."

"Ah!" grumbled Biddy mutinously. "And isn't that just like Sir Eustace, with all the world to pick from, to choose the one thing--the one little wild rose--as Master Scott had set his heart on? He's done it from his cradle. Always the one thing someone else wanted he must grab for himself. But is it too late, Miss Isabel darlint?" Sudden hope shone in the old woman's eyes. "Is it really too late? Couldn't ye drop a hint to the dear lamb? Sure and she's fond of Master Scott! Maybe she'd turn to him after all if she knew."

Isabel shook her head almost sternly. "Biddy, no! This is no affair of ours. If Master Scott suspected for a moment what you have just said to me, he would never forgive you."

"May I come in?" said Scott's voice at the door. "My dear, you are looking better. Are you well enough to start?"

"Yes, of course." Isabel moved towards him, her hands extended in mute affection.

He took and held them. "Dinah has told you? I am sure you are glad. Eustace is waiting downstairs. Come and tell him how glad you are!"

His eyes, very straight and steadfast, met hers.

Isabel tried to speak in answer, but caught her breath in a sudden sob.

He waited a second. Then, "Isabel!" he said gently.

Sharply she controlled herself. "Yes. Yes. Let us go!" she said. "I must--congratulate Eustace."

They went; and old Biddy was left alone.

She looked after them with a piteous expression on her wrinkled face; then suddenly, with a wistful gesture, she clasped her old worn hands.

"I pray the Almighty," she said, with great earnestness, "to open the dear young lady's eyes, before it is too late. And if He wants anyone to help Him--sure it's meself that'll be only too pleased."

It was the most impressive prayer that Biddy had ever uttered.