She looked
up to him with reverence, as one of colossal strength who had power with
God.
But she never dreamed again that golden dream of Greatheart in his
shining armour with the light of a great worship in his eyes. That had
been a wild flight of presumptuous fancy that never could come true.
His was not the only hand to which she clung during those terrible days
of fear and suffering. Another presence was almost constantly beside her
night and day,--a tender, motherly presence that watched over and
ministered to her with a devotion that never slackened. For some time
Dinah could not find a name for this gracious and comforting presence,
but one day when a figure clothed in a violet dressing-gown stooped over
her to give her nourishment an illuminating memory came to her, and from
that moment this loving nurse of hers filled a particular niche in her
heart which was dedicated to the Purple Empress. She could think of no
other name for her. That quiet and stately presence seemed to demand a
royal appellation. In her calmer moments Dinah liked to lie and watch the
still face with its crown of silvery hair. She loved the touch of the
white hands that always knew with unerring intuition exactly what needed
to be done. There seemed to be healing in their touch.
Very strangely the thought of Eustace never came to her, or coming, but
flitted unrecorded and undetained across the surface of her mind.
Pages:
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216