Thus moment after moment dragged by and I in a very fever of
anticipation, waiting--listening--At last she stirred, but instead of
the broken, pleading murmur I expected, I heard a long, blissful sigh,
a rustle of the hay as she settled herself more cosily, and when she
spoke her voice sounded actually slumberous:
"Are you comfortable, Peregrine?"
"Thank you--yes."
"Yet you--sound very restless. What is it, dear?"
"O Diana--have you--nothing to--to tell me?"
"You mean--to confess? No, dear."
"Nothing?" I groaned.
"Only to bid you not worry your dear, foolish head over trifles--"
"Trifles?" I gasped, sitting up in my amazement. "Trifles?"
"Silly trifles!" said she with a strange, little, tremulous laugh.
"You came seeking me. You wish to make me your wife because your love
is nobler, greater than you or I ever dreamed. And I am yours, and we
are together at last and this--this is all that can possibly matter to
us--Fourteen guineas, a florin, one groat and three pennies--was that
so very much to pay for me? Do you regret your purchase?"
"No."
"Then--have faith in your love for me, Peregrine. Give me your hand in
mine--this dear hand that fought for me and would lift poor me out of
the shameful mire. And now, good night, beloved--now, shut your eyes!
Are they closed?"
"Yes, Diana."
"Then go to sleep."
And with this cool, soft hand clasping mine, I sank at last into a
blessed slumber.
Pages:
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459