CHAPTER XXX

OF A TRULY MEMORABLE OCCASION

The silence was broken only by the plodding hoofs of Diogenes, the
creak of harness and rattle of wheels, while Diana grew lost in
thought and I in contemplation of Diana; the stately grace of her
slender, shapely form, the curve of her vivid lips, the droop of her
long, down-swept lashes, her resolute chin and her indefinable air of
native pride and power. All at once her sombre look gave place to a
smile, her slender hand tightened upon the reins, and glancing up I
saw that we had reached a place where four roads met, and here, seated
beneath the finger-post was a solitary, shabbily dressed old man
absorbed in a book; roused by the sound of our approach, he glanced up
and I recognised the ancient person, Lord Wyvelstoke.

"It's my old man!" said Diana, and waved her hand in joyous greeting,
whereupon he arose and doffing his weather-beaten hat, bowed white
head in stately greeting.

"Surely it is my pleasure to behold my courageous young Amazon," said
he, limping forward. "Greetings, fair Penthesilea!" and taking the
hand she reached out to him, he kissed it gallantly.

"And you are still alone!" said she, smiling down at him as she had
never smiled at me. "Are you always alone?"

"Always!" he answered, sighing. "Though I have my books--and an old
man's dreams. But, God bless you, child, how radiant you look; you