sure forget it. Like Biddy, she began to hope that
by postponing the evil hour they might possibly evade it altogether. For
there was nothing abnormal about Isabel during that day or those that
succeeded it. The time passed quickly. There was much to be done, much
to be discussed and decided, and their thoughts were fully occupied.
Dinah felt as one whirled in a torrent. She could not think of the great
undercurrent. She could deal only with the things on the surface.

How that week sped away she never afterwards fully recalled. It passed
like a fevered dream. Two more journeys to town with Isabel, the ordeal
of a dinner at the house of a neighbouring magnate, a much less
formidable tea at the Vicarage, on which occasion Mr. Grey drew her aside
and thanked her for using her influence over Sir Eustace in the right
direction and earnestly exhorted her to maintain and develop it as far as
possible when she was married, a few riding-lessons with Scott who always
seemed so much more imposing in the saddle than out of it and knew so
exactly how to instruct her, a few wild races in Sir Eustace's car from
which she always returned in a state of almost delirious exultation, and
then night after night the sleep of utter weariness, with Isabel lying by
her side.

The last night came upon her almost with a sense of shock. It had become
a custom for her to sit in the conservatory with Sir Eustace after
dinner, and here with the lights turned low he was wont to pour out to
her all the fiery worship which throughout the day he curbed. No one ever
disturbed them, but they were close to Isabel's sitting-room where Scott
was wont to sit and read while his sister lay on her couch resting and
listening. The murmur of his voice was audible to Dinah, and the
knowledge of his close proximity gave her a courage which surely had not
been hers otherwise. She was learning how to receive her lover's
demonstrations without starting away in affright. If he ever startled
her, the sound of Scott's voice in the adjoining room would always
reassure her. She knew that Scott was at hand and would never fail her.

But on that last night Sir Eustace was more ardent than she had ever
known him. He seemed to be almost fiercely resentful of the coming
separation, brief though it was to be, and he would not suffer her out of
reach of his hand.

Wedding presents had begun to arrive, and in some fashion they seemed to
increase his impatience.

"I can't think