I have given my whole
mind to you for many days. But I shall do nothing rash, nor without
long thought. My dearest, I wish I could make you understand what you
mean to me. I had thought when we were in the Canyon to-morrow I could
tell you something of my boyhood, so that you would understand me, and
what you mean to me. But all that must remain unsaid. Perhaps it's
just as well."
Enoch sighed again and, turning to the table, picked up the flat
package he had laid there on entering the room.
"This is my diary, Diana," placing it in her hands. "Be as gentle as
you can in judging me, as you read it. If we were to be married, I
think I would not have let you see it, but as it is, I am giving to you
the most intimate thing in my possession, and I feel somehow as if in
so doing I am tying myself to you forever."
Diana clasped the book to her heart, and laid her burning cheek against
Enoch's. But she did not speak. Enoch held her slender body against
his and the firelight flickered on the two motionless forms.
"Diana," said Enoch huskily, "you are going on with your work, as
earnestly as ever, are you not?"
"Not quite so earnestly because, after I reach the East again, Minetta
Lane will be my job.
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