"It was untrue!" she said at last. "What Richard said of me was untrue.""Why, yes," Diana snapped, contemptuous. "The only truth is that Richard is afraid."Ruth shivered. "Ah, no," she pleaded - she knew how true was the impeachment. "Don't say it, Diana.""It matters little that I say it," snorted Diana impatiently. "It is a truth proclaimed by the first glance at him.""He is in poor health, perhaps," said Ruth, seeking miserably to excuse him.
"Aye," said Diana. "He's suffering from an ague - the result of a lack of courage. That he should so have spoken to you! Give me patience, Heaven!"Ruth crimsoned again at the memory of his words; a wave of indignation swept through her gentle soul, but was gone at once, leaving an ineffable sadness in its room. What was to be done? She turned to Diana for counsel. But Diana was still whipping up her scorn.
"If he goes out to meet Mr. Wilding, he'll shame himself and every man and woman that bears the name of Westmacott," said she, and struck a new fear with that into the heart of Ruth.
"He must not go!" she answered passionately. "He must not meet him!"Diana flashed her a sidelong glance. "And if he doesn't, will things be mended?" she inquired. "Will it save his honour to have Mr. Wilding come and cane him?""He'd not do that?" said Ruth.
"Not if you asked him - no," was Diana's sharp retort, and she caught her breath on the last word of it, for just then the Devil dropped the seed of a suggestion into the fertile soil of her lovesick soul.
"Diana!" Ruth exclaimed in reproof, turning to confront her cousin.
But Diana's mind started upon its scheming journey was now travelling fast. Out of that devil's seed there sprang with amazing rapidity a tree-like growth, throwing out branches, putting forth leaves, bearing already - in her fancy - bloom and 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 proved too often." She rose and came to Ruth.
