"He will, Peregrine, so long as you are Peregrine--kiss me!" And so
for a deathless moment I held her close, to kiss her tumbled hair, her
tearful eyes, the tremor of her sweet mouth.
"Peregrine--dear," she sighed, "at first I hated love and when it came
it frighted me and then, when it came to you and you not knowing, I
knew love could only be a dream 'twixt you and me and so I--I tried to
make you hate me--I talked and acted rough--as much as I could, or--or
very nearly--but I couldn't keep it up all the time, it hurt me so--"
"Then," cried I, "why then, you do love me, heart and soul, Diana?"
"Ah--don't you know--even yet?" said she passionately. "You are so
different, so gentle--oh, you're--just Peregrine! Ah, it isn't your
money I want, or to be a fine lady like your aunt wi' horses and
carriages and servants; ah, not dear Peregrine, no--it's just you and
me together in the Silent Places--"
"And so we will be," I cried, "together in life and death--"
"O Peregrine, it isn't a dream is it--a dream that can't come true.
You'll--make me marry you, won't you?"
"Ah, by God I will--whenever you are ready, for you are mine!"
"Yes, yours," she whispered, "for ever and always! You ha' no doubts
o' the future, have ye, Peregrine?"
"None!" said I, arrogant in my happiness.
"When I called you cocksure I--loved you for it!"
Thus sat we, embracing and embraced, beside this prattling stream,
looking upon the glory of this midsummer morning and each other to
find all things ever more beautiful, and knowing a happiness that went
far beyond mere speech.
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