Isabel held her closely. "Don't you realize," she said fondly, "that you
have been my salvation."

"Not--not really?" faltered Dinah.

"Yes, really." There was a throb of passion in Isabel's voice. "I have
been a prisoner for years, but you--you, little Dinah,--have set me free.
I am travelling forward again now--like the rest of the world." She
paused a moment, and her arms clasped Dinah more closely still. "I do not
think I have very far to go," she said, speaking very softly. "My night
has been so long that I think the dawn cannot be far off now. God knows
how I am longing for it."

"Oh, darling, don't--don't!" whispered Dinah piteously.

"I won't, dearest." Very tenderly Isabel kissed her again. "I didn't mean
to distress you. Only I want you to know that you are just all the world
to me--the main-spring of what life there is left to me. I shall never
forgive myself for leading you away on that terrible Sunday, and causing
you all this suffering."

"Oh, but I should have been home again by now if that hadn't happened,"
said Dinah quickly. "See what I should have missed! I'd far, far rather
be ill with you than well at home."

"Yours isn't a happy home, sweetheart," Isabel said gently.

"Not very," Dinah admitted. "But being away makes it seem much worse. I
have been so spoilt with you."