"I am such an old fellow," he said, in a troubled way, "and you are made for bright things and gay things. I wonder if you will be happy with an old tired fellow like me——"
In her simplicity she believed that his appeal was that of love, and out of the gratitude which she felt that she owed him she tried to respond.
"Oh, I do love you," she whispered, "and when we are married—we shall be happy——"
Presently she tugged at the thin chain about her neck, and brought forth the rings.
"After this I shall wear them," she said, "for all the world to see."
When Anthony went home he answered Diana's letter. He had sent her flowers on the day that she had left—her favorite violets and valley lilies. Beyond that he had made no sign.
But now he wrote:
"Oh, dear Wise Woman:
"During all the days since I received your letter I have not been able to see things as you wanted me to see them. I have raged against Fate, and have been pursued by Furies. I have shut myself away, as far as possible, from the world. At one moment I have doubted your love for me; at the next, I have resolved to follow you, play cave man, and carry you off.
"I have read and reread your letter, trying to find some weakness to which I could appeal—but I could find none. But finally, as I read, one sentence began to stand out: 'We loved those who died—fighting.' When I got into the swing of that thought it stirred me. I am going to live—fighting—perhaps I shall die—fighting——