"No, Peregrine, it was because you never guessed, that I didn't run away--" "And you never will now, Diana, because you are mine, But I loved the sweet, pure soul of you first and so, my Diana, although I am longing--longing to kiss you--those dear gentle eyes, your red lips--I never will until you give them, because my love, being very great, is very humble, like--like this!" And sinking to my knees, I would have kissed the hem of her gown, but with a soft, sweet cry of reproach, she slipped to her knees also and swaying to me, hid her face in my breast. "O Peregrine," she murmured, looking up at me through a mist of tears, "it is a wonderful thing to be loved by a gentleman--" "Then God keep me so!" I whispered. "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. Birds have sung as blithely--perhaps; the sun may have beamed as kindly and brooks have laughed as joyously as this chattering rill of ours, but as for me, I soberly doubt it. "Peregrine," said she at last, "where is my locket?" "Here!" said I, reaching the case from my pocket. "When your singing woke me to this wonderful, glorious morning, I brought it to find you." "How pretty it is!" she sighed happily, touching it tenderly with the extreme tip of one slender finger. "It isn't anything near good enough," said I, viewing it a little gloomily, "I will get you one infinitely better--"