Billy had already departed upon Scott's mount era he and Dinah set forth to walk to the Court. It was threatening to rain, and the ground beneath their feet was sodden and heavy.
"It is rather a shame to ask you to walk," said Scott, as they turned up the muddy road. "They would have sent a car for you if I had thought."
"I would much rather walk," said Dinah. Her face was very pale. She looked years older than she had looked at Willowmount. After a moment she added, "We shall pass the church. Perhaps you would like to see it. They were going to decorate it this morning."
"I should," said Scott.
He limped beside her, and she curbed her pace to his though the fever of unrest that surged within her urged her forward. They went up the lane that led to the church in almost unbroken silence.
At the churchyard gate she paused. "I hope there is no one here," she said uneasily.
"We need not go in unless you wish," he answered.
But when they reached the porch, they found that the church was empty, and so they entered.
A heavy scent of lilies pervaded the place. There was a wonderful white arch of flowers at the top of the aisle, and the chancel was decked with them. The space above the altar was a mass of white, perfumed splendour. They had been sent down from the Court that morning.
Slowly Scott passed up the nave with the bride-elect by his side, straight to the chancel-steps, and there he paused. His pale face with its light eyes was absolutely composed and calm. He looked straight up to the dim richness of the stained-glass window above him as though he saw beyond the flowers.
For many seconds Dinah stood beside him, awed, waiting as it were for the coming of a revelation. Whatever it might be she knew already that she would not leave that holy place in the state of hopeless turmoil in which she had entered. Something was coming to her, some new thing, that might serve as an anchor in her distress even though it might not bring her ultimate deliverance.
Or stay! Was it a new thing? Was it not rather the unveiling of something which had always been? Her heart quickened and became audible in the stillness. She clasped her hands tightly together. And in that moment Scott turned his head and looked at her.
No word did he speak; only that straight, calm look--as of a man clean of soul and fearless of evil. It told her nothing, that look, it opened to her no secret chamber; neither did it probe her own quivering heart. It was the kindly, reassuring look of a friend ready to stand by, ready to lend a sure hand if such were needed.