She trembled afresh as this thought came home to her. Despite his assurances, marriage seemed to her a terrible thing. It was like parting, not only with the old life, but with herself.
She dressed mechanically, scarcely thinking of her appearance, roused only at length from her pre-occupation by the tread of hoofs under her window. She leaned forth quickly and discerned Scott on horseback,--a trim, upright figure, very confident in the saddle--and with him Billy still mounted on Rupert and evidently in the highest spirits.
The latter spied her at once and accosted her in his cracked, cheerful voice. "Hi, Dinah! Come down! We're going to tea at the Court. Scott will walk with you, and I'm going to ride his gee."
He rolled off Rupert with the words. Scott looked up at her, faintly smiling as he lifted his hat. "I hope that plan will suit you," he said. "The fact is the padre has been detained and can't get here before tea-time. So we thought--Eustace thought--you wouldn't mind coming up to the Court to tea instead of waiting to see him here."
It crossed her mind to wonder why Eustace had not come himself to fetch her, but she was conscious of a deep, unreasoning thankfulness that he had not. Then, before she could reply, she heard her father's voice in the porch, inviting Scott to enter.
Scott accepted the invitation, and Dinah turned back into the room to prepare for the walk.
Her hands were trembling so much that they could scarcely serve her. She was in a state of violent and uncontrollable agitation, longing one moment to be gone, and the next desiring desperately to remain where she was. The thought of facing the crowd at the Court filled her with a positive tumult of apprehension, but breathlessly she kept telling herself that Scott would be there--Scott would be there. His sheltering presence would be her protection.
And then, still trembling, still unnerved, she descended to meet him.
He was with her father in the drawing-room. The place was littered with wedding-presents.
As she entered, he came towards her, and in a moment his quiet hand closed upon hers. Her father went out in search of her mother and they were alone.
"What a collection of beautiful things you have here!" he said.
She looked at him, met his steady eyes, and suddenly some force of speech broke loose within her; she uttered words wild and passionate, such as she had never till that moment dreamed of uttering.
"Oh, don't talk of them! Don't think of them! They suffocate me!"