fruit.
“Why not?” quoth she after a breathing space, and her voice was gentle, her tone innocent beyond compare. “Why should you not ask him?” Ruth frowned, perplexed and thoughtful, and now Diana turned to her with the lively eye of one into whose mind has leapt a sudden inspiration. “Ruth!” she exclaimed. “Why, indeed, should you not ask him to forgo this duel?”
“How, how could I?” faltered Ruth.
“He'd not deny you; you know he'd not.”
“I do not know it,” answered Ruth. “But if I did, how could I ask it?”
“Were I Richard's sister, and had I his life and honour at heart as you have, I'd not ask how. If Richard goes to that encounter he loses both, remember—unless between this and then he undergoes some change. Were I in your place, I'd straight to Wilding.”
“To him?” mused Ruth, sitting up. “How could I go to him?”
“Go to him, yes,” Diana insisted. “Go to him at once—while there is yet time.”
Ruth rose and moved away a step or two towards the water, deep in thought. Diana watched her furtively and slyly, the rapid rise and fall of her maiden breast betraying the agitation that filled her as she waited—like a gamester—for the turn of the card that would show her whether she had won or lost. For she saw clearly how Ruth might be so compromised that there was something more than a chance that Diana would no longer have cause to account her cousin a barrier between herself and Blake.
“I could not go alone,” said Ruth, and her tone was that of one still battling with a notion that is repugnant.
“Why, if that is all,” said Diana, “then I'll go with you.”
“I can't! I can't! Consider the humiliation.”
“Consider Richard rather,” the fair temptress made answer eagerly. “Be sure that Mr. Wilding will save you all humiliation. He'll not deny you. At a word from you, I know what answer he will make. He will refuse to push the matter forward—acknowledge himself in the wrong, do whatever you may ask him. He can do it. None will question his courage. It has been
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