side to side of the bed or pacing up
and down her room, love and pride fighting a stubborn battle within
her. Had Max remained at Crailing, love would have gained an easy
victory, but, true to his promise, he had gone away, leaving her to
make her decision free and untrammelled by his influence.
Diana's face was beginning to show signs of the mental struggle through
which she was passing. Dark shadows lay beneath her eyes, and her
cheeks, even in so short a time, had hollowed a little. She was
irritable, too, and unlike herself, and at last Stair, whose watchful
eyes had noted all these things, though he had refrained from comment,
taxed her with keeping him outside her confidence.
"Can't I help, Di?" he asked, laying his hand on her shoulder, and
twisting her round so that she faced him.
The quick colour flew into her cheeks. For a moment she hesitated,
while Stair, releasing his hold of her, dropped into a chair and busied
himself filling and lighting his pipe.
"Well?" he queried at last, smiling whimsically. "Won't you give me an
old friend's right to ask impertinent questions?"
Impulsively she yielded.
"You needn't, Pobs. I'll tell you all about it."
When she had finished, a long silence ensued. Not that Stair was in
any doubt as to what form his advice should take--idealist that he was,
there did not seem to him to be any question in the matter. He only
hesitated as to how he could best word his counsel.
At last he spoke, very gently, his eyes lit with that inner radiance
which gave such an arresting charm of expression to his face.
"My dear," he said, "it seems to me that if you love him you needs
_must_ trust him. 'Perfect love casteth out fear.'"
Diana shook her head.
"Mightn't you reverse that, Pobs, and say that he would trust _me_--if
he loves me?"
"No, not necessarily." Alan sucked at his pipe. "He knows what his
secret is, and whether it is right or wrong for you to share it. You
haven't that knowledge. And that's where your trust must come in. You
have to believe in him enough to leave it to him to decide whether you
ought to be told or not. Have you no confidence in his judgment?"
"I don't think husbands and wives should have secrets from one
another," protested Diana obstinately.
"Does he propose to have any other than this one?"
"No."
"Then I don't see that you need complain. The present and the future
are yours, but you've no right to demand the past
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