You always do her good."
The words followed her as she turned away. How good he was to her! How
full of understanding and human sympathy! Her heart throbbed with a
warmth that filled her with an odd desire to weep. She wished that
Eustace did not treat him quite so arrogantly.
And then, looking back, she reproached herself for the thought; for
Eustace had linked a hand in his arm, and she saw that they were walking
together in complete accord.
"But I will never--no, never--call him Stumpy!" she said to herself, as
she passed into the hotel.
She went up the stairs rapidly, and hastened to Isabel's room. That look
she had caught in Scott's face--that stricken look--had doubtless been
brought there by his sudden anxiety for his sister. That would fully
account for it, she was sure.
On the threshold of Isabel's room an overwhelming nervousness assailed
her. How was she going to tell her of the wonderful event that had taken
place in the last half-hour? On the other hand, how could she possibly
suppress so tremendous a matter? And again, the disquieting question
arose; could she be ill--really ill? Scott had looked so troubled--so
unutterably sad.
With an effort she summoned her courage, and softly knocked.
Instantly a low voice answered her, bidding her enter. She opened the
door and went in, feeling as though she were treading sacred ground.
But Isabel's voice spoke again instantly, greeting her; and
in a moment all her doubts, all her forebodings, were gone.
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