"She often doesn't sleep much before morning," Scott said. "I expect she will be down to luncheon if you can put up with me only till then."
He evidently did not want to discuss Isabel's health just then, and Dinah was quite willing also to let the subject pass for the time. It was a morning for happy thoughts only. She and Scott would pretend that they had not a care in the world.
They breakfasted together as if it were a picnic. She had never seen him so cheery and inconsequent. It was as if he also were engaged in some species of make-believe. Or was it the enchantment of spring that had fallen upon them both? Dinah could not have said. She only knew that she had never felt so happy in all her life before.
The walk to the Dower House was full of delight. It was all so exquisite, the long, grassy slopes, the dark woods, the bare trees stark against the blue. The path led through a birch copse, and here in sheltered corners were primroses. She gathered them eagerly, and Scott helped her, even forgetting to smoke.
She did not remember later what they talked about, or even if they talked at all. But the amazing gladness of her heart on that spring morning was to be a vivid memory to her for as long as she lived.
They reached the Dower House. Like Willowmount, it overlooked the river, but from a different angle. Dinah was charmed with the old place. It was full of unexpected corners and old-fashioned contrivances. Blue patches of violets bloomed in the garden. Again with Scott's help, she gathered a great dewy bunch.
There were workmen in one or two of the rooms, and she stood by or wandered at will while Scott talked to the foreman.
They found themselves presently in the room that was to be Isabel's,—a large and sunlit apartment that had a turret window that looked to the far hills beyond the river. Dinah stood entranced with her eyes upon the blue distance. Finally, with a sigh, she spoke.
"How I wish I were going to live here too!"
"What! You like it better than Willowmount?" said Scott.