“Her heart was as tender as her soul was beautiful,� said Caleb Trench; “she died when I was twenty years old.�
Diana held out her hand. “Will you give me the flowers?� she asked simply.
He gave them with a slight flush of surprise. “They are poor and broken,� he apologized lamely.
“I see that you think I have neither a heart nor a soul,� she replied.
He smiled. “I do not let myself think of either, Miss Royall,� he said; “I fancy that a wise man will always avoid the dizzy heights, and even a foolish one will see a precipice.�
Diana was silent; that she understood him would have been apparent to the initiated, for her little ears were red, but the proud curve of her lips remained firm and the steady glance of her eyes rested on the darkening valley. The hills had purpled to gray, the sky was whitening, and in the west the evening star shone like a point of flame.
Out of the stillness her voice sounded unusually soft and sweet. “I’m going to have some friends to tea to-morrow afternoon, Mr. Trench,� she said; “will you come?�
“No,� he replied, and then added: “Pardon me, that seems discourteous, but I am not going out again here, Miss Royall.�
Almost involuntarily she smiled. “We are playing the game of tit-for-tat, Mr. Trench, and you’ve won.�
“I have been a bear,� he replied, “but—Miss Royall, it’s growing dark; let me take you home.�