Greatheart

He came and stood beside her in mute sympathy while he finished his cigarette. There was a certain depression in his attitude of which presently she became aware. She summoned her resolution and turned herself from the great vision that so drew her.

He was leaning against a post of the verandah, and she read again in his attitude the weariness that she had marked earlier in the afternoon.

"Are you--troubled about your sister?" she asked him diffidently.

He threw away the end of his cigarette and straightened himself. "Yes, I am troubled," he said, in a low voice. "I am afraid it was a mistake to bring her here."

"I thought her looking better this morning," Dinah ventured.

His grey eyes met hers. "Did you? I thought it a good sign that she should make the effort to speak to strangers. But I am not certain now that it has done her any good. We brought her here to wake her from her lethargy. Eustace thought the air would work wonders, but--I am not sure. It is certainly waking her up. But--to what?"

His eyelids drooped heavily, and he passed his hand across his forehead with a gesture that went to her heart.

"It's rather soon to judge, isn't it?" she said.

"Yes," he admitted. "But there is a change in her; there is an undoubted change. She gets hardly any rest, and the usual draught at night scarcely takes effect. Of course the place is noisy. That may have something to do with it. My brother is very anxious to put a stop to the sleeping-draught altogether. But I can't agree to that. She has never slept naturally since her loss--never slept and never wept. Biddy--the old nurse--declares if she could only cry, all would come right. But I don't know--I don't know."

He uttered a deep sigh, and leaned once more upon the balustrade.

Dinah came close to him, her sweet face full of concern. "Mr. Studley," she murmured, "you--you don't think I do her any harm, do you?"

"You!" He gave a start and looked at her with that in his eyes that reassured her in a moment. "My dear child, no! You are a perfect godsend to her--and to me also, if you don't mind my saying so. No--no! The mischief that I fear will probably develop after you have gone. As long as you are here, I am not afraid for her. Yours is just the sort of influence that she needs."