"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 proved too often." She rose and came to Ruth. She set her arm
about her waist again, and poured shrewd persuasion over her cousin s
indecision. "To-night you'll thank me for this thought," she assured
her. "Why do you pause? Are you so selfish as to think more of the
little humiliation that may await you than of Richard's life and
honour?"
"No, no," Ruth protested feebly.
"What, then? Is Richard to go out and slay his honour by a show of fear
before he is slain, himself, by the man he has insulted?"
"I'll go," said Ruth. Now that the resolve was taken, she was brisk,
impatient. "Come, Diana. Let Jerry saddle for us. We'll ride to Zoyland
Chase at once."
They went without a word to Richard who was still closeted with
Vallancey, and riding forth they crossed the river and took the road
that, skirting Sedgemoor, runs south to Weston Zoyland. They rode with
little said until they came to the point where the road branches on the
left, throwing out an arm across the moor towards Chedzoy, a mile or so
short of Zoyland Chase. Here Diana reined in with a sharp gasp of pain.
Ruth checked, and cried to know what ailed her.
"It is the sun, I think," muttered Diana, her hand to her brow. "I am
sick and giddy." And she slipped a thought heavily to the ground. In an
instant Ruth had dismounted and was beside her. Diana was pale, which
lent colour to her complaint, for Ruth was not to know that the pallor
sprang from her agitation in wondering whether the ruse she attempted
would succeed or not.
A short stone's-throw from where they had halted stood a cottage back
from the road in a little plot of ground, the property of a kindly old
woman known to both. There Diana expressed the wish to rest awhile, and
thither they took their way, Ruth leading both horses and supporting her
faltering cousin. The dame was all solicitude. Diana was led into her
parlour, and what could be done was done. Her corsage was loosened,
water drawn from the well and brought her to drink
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