Can they really be as happy as they sound?"
A distant hubbub had arisen in the main corridor, the banging of doors
and laughter of careless voices. It was some time after one o'clock, and
the merry-markers were on their way to bed.
"Never mind them!" said Biddy. "They're just a set of noisy children. Lie
down again, Miss Isabel! They'll soon settle, and then p'raps ye'll get
to sleep. It's not this way they'll be coming anyway."
"Someone is coming this way," said Isabel, listening with sudden close
attention.
She was right. The quiet tread of a man's feet came down the corridor
that led to their private suite. A man's hand knocked with imperious
insistence upon the door.
"Sir Eustace!" said Biddy, in a dramatic whisper. "Will I tell him ye're
asleep, Miss Isabel? Quick now! Get back to bed!"
But Isabel made no movement to comply. She only drew herself together
with the nervous contraction of one about to face a dreaded ordeal.
Quietly the door opened. Biddy moved forward, her face puckered with
anxiety. She met Sir Eustace on the threshold.
"Miss Isabel hasn't settled yet, Sir Eustace," she told him, her voice
cracked and tremulous. "But she'll not be wanting anybody to disturb her.
Will your honour say good night and go?"
There was entreaty in the words. Her eyes besought him. Her old gnarled
hands gripped each other, trembling.
But Sir Eustace looked over her head as though she were not there.
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