THE FIRST VOICE. Yes.
THE SECOND VOICE. Then is yours a pitiful love, base and most unworthy.
THE FIRST VOICE. No matter--she shall not go!
THE SECOND VOICE. In such a love can be no true happiness.
THE FIRST VOICE. However, she shall not leave me!
THE SECOND VOICE. How if at some future day, her eyes be opened to see your love for the petty, selfish thing it is?
THE FIRST VOICE. She will be my wife!
THE SECOND VOICE. So G.o.d pity her.
THE FIRST VOICE. Come what will, she shall not leave me! I cannot, will not part with her!
"Why, Peregrine!" exclaimed a sweet voice. "My dear--my dear, what is it? Why do you sit here sighing with your dear head between your hands--this head that I love so! Peregrine dear, what is it?"
She was beside me on her knees, had drawn my face upon her bosom, and I thrilled to the soft caress of her mouth and the touch of her gentle fingers in my hair. "Why are you so troubled, my Peregrine?"
"O Diana! Beloved, I imagined a foolish thing--that being far from me you forgot our love--these dear Silent Places, and learned--to love--some one more worthy--more generous--altogether better than I.
For Diana--I am--"
"My Peregrine!" she whispered pa.s.sionately. "My brave lover that is so fine a gentleman he don"t know anything of evil and has treated me always as if I was a proud lady--as if I was a very holy thing instead of only a gipsy girl to be kissed and--and--oh, you are so different--and so it is I love you--love you, worship you, and--all"us shall, my Peregrine, and long and yearn to be a lady for your sake and worthy of you--"
"O child," I whispered, "my Diana--hush! You don"t know how vilely, basely selfish I am really--"
"Never--ah, never say so, Peregrine, it hurts me. There now, smile! I wouldn"t ha" left you all the afternoon--not even wi" our pal--no, not even to try on my wedding gown if I"d thought you"d ha" grieved. Come, dear, Jessamy"s back an" ready for you with the m.u.f.fles--there, he be calling!"
So I arose, but stood a while to look into her eyes that met mine with such sweet frankness.
"And you still wish to learn all those graces and refinements that make what is called a lady, my Diana?"
"Yes," she answered, a little breathlessly. "Yes--oh, more than ever--more than anything else in life--except you--"
"Then--G.o.d helping, you shall!" said I, between shut teeth. And so we went on together.
"But, Peregrine," she questioned a little wistfully, "dear Peregrine, why is your face so stern and why must you sigh still?"
"Because to be unselfish is sometimes--an agony, Diana."
"Dear heart--what do you mean?"
"Only I know now that I do most truly love you."
CHAPTER x.x.xVIII
A CRUCIFIXION
"Where are you taking me, Peregrine?"
Birds were singing joyously, the brook chuckled and laughed merrily amid the shallows, the morning sun shone in glory, and all nature seemed to rejoice, as if care and sadness were things unknown.
"Where are we going, dear Peregrine?"
"To seek your heart"s desire."
"That sounds very lovely!" said Diana, laughing gaily and giving my arm a little hug. "But everything seems so--wonderful lately!"
After this we walked in silence awhile, for when I would have told her whither we were going and why, I could not, try how I would.
"Barbara was telling me how she first met you and Anthony; she is very beautiful, don"t ye think, Peregrine?"
"Very!"
"So beautiful that I wonder you didn"t fall in love wi" her."
"I waited to fall in love with Diana, who is much more beautiful, I think--"
"Do you, Peregrine, do you think so--really?"
Here, of course, I stopped to kiss her.
"The wonder is," said she, "the great wonder is that she didn"t fall in love wi" you, Peregrine."
"I"m very glad she didn"t! Besides, there"s Anthony, so strong and tall and handsome, so altogether different to myself and much more likely to capture a woman"s fancy."
"Not all women, Peregrine."
Here she stopped to kiss me.
"Barbara is a much--gentler sort of fine lady than--your aunt, I think--"
"Aunt Julia can be gentle also--sometimes, dear--"
"When she gets her own way, Peregrine!"
"You will learn to love her very much some day, I hope, Diana."
"I hope so--but it"ll take her a mighty long time learning to love me, I think," sighed Diana. "Lord, what furious fuss she"ll make when she finds out we"m married. Not as I shall care--if you don"t, dear. Why, Peregrine--yonder"s Wyvelstoke Towers!"
"Yes," said I, "it is there we are going."