At once a woman's voice accosted him. "For the Lord's sake, Master
Stumpy, come in quick and shut the door behind ye! The racket downstairs
is sending Miss Isabel nearly crazy, poor lamb. And it's meself that's
wondering what we'll do to-night, for there's no peace at all in this
wooden shanty of a place."
"Be quiet, Biddy!" Scott's voice made calm, undaunted answer. "You can go
if you like. I've come to sit with Miss Isabel for a while. And I've
brought her a visitor. Isabel, my dear, I've brought you a visitor."
Dinah moved forward in response to his gentle insistence, but her shyness
went with her. She was aware of something intangible in the atmosphere
that startled, that almost frightened, her.
The gaunt figure of a woman clad in a long, white robe sat at a table in
the middle of the room with a sheaf of letters littered before her. Her
emaciated arms were flung wide over them, her white head was bowed.
But at Scott's quiet announcement, it was raised with the suddenness of
eager expectancy. For the fraction of a second Dinah saw dark, sunken
eyes ablaze with a hope that was almost terrible in its intensity.
It was gone on the instant. They looked at her with a species of dull
wonder. "Are you a friend of Scott's? I am very pleased to meet you," a
hollow voice said.
A thin hand was extended to her, and as Dinah clasped it a sudden great
pity surged through her, dispelling her doubt.
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