"Anthony!" said I, as our hands gripped. "Peregrine--O Perry, we--we were married--not an hour ago--Barbara and I--and now--" "Look!" said I and nodded where Barbara sat, her pale check pillowed on Diana's bosom. "Anthony!" she called softly. And then he was beside her on his knees, his head down-bent, her arm about his neck. "Perry!" he called suddenly. "Come here, man, come here! Sure you haven't forgot the angel who stooped to a miserable dog, who trusted a desperate-seeming rogue and lifted him back to manhood and self-respect--you remember my Barbara? And you, dearest, recall my friend Peregrine--the gentle, immaculate youth who was willing to trust and bestow his friendship upon the same miserable dog and desperate rogue--aye, and fed him into the bargain--" "How should I ever forget?" said Barbara. "Indeed, Mr. Vereker, we have talked of you often--though always as 'Peregrine'--" "Mrs. Vere-Manville," I began. "It was Barbara at the 'Jolly Waggoner'!" she reminded me, smiling and nestling closer into her husband's encircling arm. "Barbara--Anthony," said I, "it is my happy privilege to introduce Diana--Miss Lovel--who is to honour me by becoming my wife shortly--" Anthony bowed to Diana, laughed, and drew his wife a little closer all in the same moment, it seemed; then Barbara turned to look into the vivid, dark beauty of Diana's down-bent face where she knelt, and for a long moment eyes of blue stared up into eyes of grey, a long, questioning look. "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--"