"May I kiss you?" said Barbara at last.
Swiftly, almost eagerly, Diana leaned forward, then hesitated, drew
away, and glanced swiftly upon each of us in turn with a troubled
look.
"Lady," said she in her rich, soft voice, and speaking with careful
deliberation, "Peregrine has not told you--all. Please look at me--my
dress--"
"Very pretty, I think, and quaint--like a gipsy's--"
"I am a gipsy, lady--one Peregrine met by the roadside! 'T is best you
should know this--first--before--before--"
The soft, sweet voice faltered and stopped and there fell a silence, a
long, tense moment wherein I held my breath, I think, and was
conscious of the heavy beating of my heart, but with every throb I
loved and honoured Diana the more. Slowly and gently Barbara loosed
her husband's clasping arm and rose to her knees.
"Now--I _must_ kiss you, Diana!" she said.
"O lady!" sighed Diana.
"Barbara, my dear! Barbara ever and always!"
"Barbara!" murmured Diana. And then they were in each other's arms and
Anthony was on his feet and tucking his arm in mine led me where the
horses stood tethered, with such disconnected mutterings as:
"Come away, Perry--true blue, 'egad--leave 'em together--angels of
heaven both--too good for me--or even you--not a doubt of it--"
"Agreed!" quoth I.
"Peregrine," said he, pausing suddenly to grasp me by the shoulders in
his well-remembered way, "O Peregrine, she is the loveliest, sweetest,
tenderest creature that ever made a man wish himself better--"
"Anthony," quoth I, "she is the bravest, noblest, purest maid that ever
taught a man to be better!"
"She is, Peregrine!"
"They are, Anthony!"
"For one frightful moment I thought she--was killed, Perry!"
"But God is good and--Diana was there, Anthony.
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