The bare thought of
dancing at that moment made her feel physically sick. "Biddy! Biddy!" she
whispered, "what has happened to make her--like this?"
"And ye may well ask!" said Biddy darkly. "But it's not for me to tell
ye. Ye'd best run along, Miss Dinah dear, and be happy while ye can."
"But I'm not happy!" broke from Dinah. "How can I be? Biddy, what has
happened? You must tell me if you can. She wasn't like this a fortnight
ago. She has never been--quite like this--before."
Biddy pursed her lips. "Sure, we none of us travel the same road twice,
Miss Dinah," she said.
But Dinah would not be satisfied with so vague an axiom.
"Something has happened," she said. "Come into the next room and tell me
all about it! Please, Biddy!"
Biddy glanced at the bed. "She'll not hear ye in here, Miss Dinah," she
said. "And what for should I be telling ye at all? Ye'll be Sir Eustace's
bride in less than forty-eight hours from now, so it's maybe better ye
shouldn't know."
"I must know," Dinah said, and with the words a great wave of resolution
went through her, uplifting her, inspiring her. "I've got to know," she
said. "Whatever happens, I've got to know."
Biddy left the bedside and came close to her. "If ye insist, Miss
Dinah--" she said.
"I do--I do insist." Never in her life before had Dinah spoken with such
authority, but a force within was urging her--a force irresistible; she
spoke as one compelled.
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