Old Azor often told me I
had no name, but the Folk I lived with, theirs was Lovel--that'll do,
won't it?"
"Of course! Goddesses don't need surnames."
"Will you still think me a goddess when we're married, Peregrine?"
"No, as something infinitely dearer and more precious."
"What?"
"My wife! It--it sounds strange on my lips, doesn't it?"
"I love the way you say it!" sighed Diana, and with such a look in her
eyes that I clasped her to me and she, all unresisting, gave up her
lips to mine. So, for a space, we forgot all but ourselves and I grew
blind to all but her beauty, deaf to all but her voice.
"O Peregrine!" she sighed. "O Peregrine, I never thought love could be
so--wonderful!"
"In three weeks you will be mine utterly, Diana--in three weeks!"
"I am now, Peregrine. I could never love--never, never marry any one
but you. I never meant to marry because I never thought I could love
any man--but now--O Peregrine!"
"Dear," said I, "if--if anything should happen to separate us, could
you--would you always love me?"
"Always, Peregrine, always and for ever. Hark, there is some one
coming."
Faint and far rose the sound of hoofs and, glancing up, I espied the
distant forms of two equestrians and also observed that the
perspicacious Diogenes, quick to heed and take advantage of our lapse,
had halted to crop and nibble busily in the shade of a great tree that
stretched one mighty branch protectingly above us.
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