"No. Let's go on."
"May I not share your sorrows, Diana?" I enquired, and laid my hand on her arm; but she shook me off, though not before I had seen her eyes were suffused with tears. Therefore I caught and held her hand so that she stopped, facing me, and thus I saw her tears were falling and she not troubling to hide or wipe them away.
"Can't you let me alone?" she sobbed.
"Why, Diana!" I exclaimed. "O child, don't weep; true friends must share sorrow as well as joy! So, if we are to be friends, tell me what is troubling you."
"Yonder!" said she, pointing to the blue distance before us. "'Tis the beyond—'tis the Future as do fright me."
"But I thought you feared nothing, Diana?"
"Only myself!" she cried, throwing out her arms in a sudden wild gesture. "There be a devil inside o' me sometimes—a devil as even old Azor was afeard of an' most o' the men—"
"Then I think this must be rather a good devil, Diana."
"Ah no—no!" she cried. "'Tis a devil as drives me to wild thoughts an' ways—things as do shame me. 'Tis very fierce and strong!"
"Still, I do not think I fear this devil—or ever should, Diana."