engagement to Anthony. But it
was too late. You see it has come to this: that there isn't any one
in the world for me but Betty--she's so little and young and sweet,
and she has waked up the man in me, and that's what no other girl has
ever done.

"But she won't break her promise, and last night I left her crying,
and I can't stand the thought of it. I just can't stand it. When it
was only I who suffered, I could get along, but now--why, it's Betty's
happiness against all the rest.

"Am I doing a dishonorable thing, Diana, when I ask her to tell
Anthony the truth?

"You shall decide for us. I cannot think clearly; I love her too much.

"JUSTIN."

What had inspired Justin to write to her like that? Did Betty know? Did
Sophie? She went to the reading of the other letters eagerly, and when
at last they lay before her, and the whole pitiful little story was
revealed, the tears were running down her cheeks. Oh, the unhappiness of
the dear young hearts--and the happiness which was to come!

Those who had assembled on the porch of the hotel in the before-luncheon
hour were struck by something unusual in the bearing of the Beautiful
Lady as she came toward them. All the listlessness of the morning had
gone. Her head was up and she walked swiftly, lightly.

"She makes me think of the 'Winged Victory,'" was the comment of the
observant artist. "She gives the same impression of triumphant motion."

At other times Diana had rather resented the inspection of the people on
the porch. But to-day all of the faces looked friendly--she felt that
she would like to say to them all, "I am going home to be happy." But
what she really did was to bow somewhat shyly, and to go on with flaming
cheeks.

The artist looked after her. "I wonder if she knows that she belongs to
the goddess type of the Golden Age," he said, and sighed.

It was just at dusk that Diana stepped once more within the borders of
the enchanted forest, and sought the warm little hollow beside the pool.
In her filmy gown of midnight blue she moved like a shadow among deeper
shadows--her neck and shoulders gleaming white.

* * * * *

About her were all the eerie noises of the dark, the little, little
sounds of little, little things.

"Good-bye," Diana whispered, "good-bye--dear forest."

The sounds seemed to swell triumphantly into a love song--the weird and
wonderful song of the night. From bush and branc