Scurrilous stories of that
type kill themselves by their very scurrility. No matter how eagerly
the public may lap up the stuff, it cannot really heed it for, Enoch,
America knows you and your service. America loves you. Brown cannot
dislodge you by slandering your mother. The real importance and danger
of that story lies in its reaction on you. I--I could not help
recalling the story of that tormented, red-haired boy who went down
Bright Angel trail with my father and I had to come to help him, if I
could. O Enoch, if the Canyon could only, once more, wipe Luigi
Guiseppi out of your life!"
Enoch watched Diana's wide gray eyes with a look of painful eagerness.
"Nothing matters, nothing can matter, Enoch, except that you find the
strength in the Canyon to go back to your work and that you leave Brown
alone. That is what I want to demand of your friendship, that you
promise me to do those two things."
"I shall go back, of course," replied Enoch, gravely. "I had no
thought of doing otherwise. But about Brown, I cannot promise."
"Then will you agree not to go back until you have talked to me again?"
"Again? But I expect to talk to you many times, Diana! You are not
going away, are you?"
Diana nodded.
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