There were new lines about his mouth, and his eyes were
so darkly shadowed as to seem almost sunken in their sockets.
"You have come back!" he said, stepping eagerly towards her.
"Diana"--there was a note of strain in his voice--"which is it?
Yes--or no?"
She held out her hands.
"It's--it's 'yes,' Max."
A stifled exclamation broke from him, almost like a sob. He folded her
in his arms and laid his lips to hers.
"My beloved! . . . Oh, Diana, if you could guess the agony--the
torture of the last ten days!" And he leaned his cheek against her
hair, and stood silently for a little space.
Presently fear overcame him again--quick fear lest she should ever
regret having given herself to him.
"Heart's dearest, have you realised that it will be very hard
sometimes? You will ask me to explain things--and I shan't be able to.
Is your trust big enough--great enough for this?"
Diana raised her head from his shoulder.
"I love you," she answered steadily.
"Do you forget the shadow? It is there still, dogging my steps. Not
even your love can alter that."
For a moment Diana rose to the heights of her womanhood.
"If there must be a shadow," she said, "we will walk in it together."
"But--don't you see?--I shall know what it is. To you it will always
be something unknown, hidden, mysterious. Child! Child! I wonder if
I am right to let you join your life to mine!"
But Diana only repeated:--
"I love you.
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