Filled thus with an ecstasy unknown till now, I stopped suddenly to
look above and round about, glad-eyed; and thus presently my eager
gaze came upon my companion who had paused also, her eyes upraised to
watch the flight of a mounting lark. Beholding her in this graceful
posture, so vivid with life and youthful strength, all slim
shapeliness from wind-kissed hair to buckled shoe, she seemed the
spirit, nay the very embodiment, of this fair midsummer morning.
"O Diana!" I exclaimed. "Is it not good to be alive?"
"The lark seems to think so," she answered, her gaze still uplifted.
"Yet I wonder if he is truly happy, or sings only because 'tis his
nature?"
"Because he's happy, of course!" I answered. "Who wouldn't be happy on
such a morning?"
"Well, I ain't, for one!"
"Not happy, Diana--but why?"
"Because!"
"Because of what?"
"Oh, never mind! Let's go on."
"Won't you tell me?"
"No. Let's go on."
"May I not share your sorrows, Diana?" I enquired, and laid my hand on
her arm; but she shook me off, though not before I had seen her eyes
were suffused with tears. Therefore I caught and held her hand so that
she stopped, facing me, and thus I saw her tears were falling and she
not troubling to hide or wipe them away.
"Can't you let me alone?" she sobbed.
"Why, Diana!" I exclaimed. "O child, don't weep; true friends must
share sorrow as well as joy! So, if we are to be friends, tell me what
is troubling you.
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