Diane of the Green Van

by Leona Dalrymple

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  THE MOON ABOVE THE MARSH

  The moon silvered the marsh and the creek. Off to the east rippled asilent, moon-white stretch of sea, infinitely lonely, murmuring in thestar-cool night.

  Restless and wakeful Diane watched the stream glide endlessly on, eachreed and pebble silvered. Rex lay on the bank beside her, whither hehad followed faithfully a very long while ago, snapping at the insectswhich rose from the grass. So colorless and fixed was the face of hismistress that it seemed a beautiful graven thing devoid of life.

  Now presently as Diane stared at the moon-lit pebbles glinting at herfeet, a shadow among the cedars, having advanced and retreateduncertainly a score of times before, suddenly detached itself from thewavering stencil of tree and bush upon the moonlit ground and resolveditself into the figure of a tall, determined sentinel who approachedand seated himself beside her.

  "What's wrong?" begged Philip gently. "I've been watching you forhours, Diane, and you've scarcely moved an inch."

  "Nothing," said Diane. But her voice was so lifeless, her lack ofinterest in Philip's sudden appearance so pointed, that he glancedkeenly at her colorless face and frowned.

  "There is something, I'm sure," he insisted kindly. "You look it."Finding that she did not trouble to reply, he produced his wildwoodpipe and fell to smoking.

  "Likely I'll stay here," said Philip quietly, "until you tell me.Surely you know, Diane, that in anything in God's world that concernsyou, I stand ready to help you if you need me."

  It was manfully spoken but Diane's lips faintly curled. Philip's finefrank face colored hotly and he looked away.

  In silence they sat there, Philip smoking restlessly and wondering,Diane staring at the creek, with Ronador's impassioned voice ringingwildly in her ears.

  In the east the sky turned faintly primrose, the creek glowed faintlypink. The great moon glided lower by the marsh with the branch of adead tree black against its brilliant shield. Marsh and oak werefaintly gray. The metallic ocean had already caught the deepening glowof life. Where the stream stole swampwards, a mist curled slowly upfrom the water like beckoning ghosts draped in nebulous rags.

  Suddenly in the silence Diane fell to trembling.

  "Philip!" she cried desperately.

  "Yes?" said Philip gently.

  "Why are you following me with the music-machine?"

  "I could tell you," said Philip honestly, "and I'd like to, but you'dtell me again that the moon is on my head."

  The girl smiled faintly.

  "Tell me," she begged impetuously, "what was that other reason why Imust not journey to Florida in the van? You spoke of it by the lilypool in Connecticut. You remember?"

  "Yes," said Philip uncomfortably. "Yes, I do remember."

  "What was it?" insisted Diane, her eyes imploring. "Surely, Philip,you can tell me now! I--I did not ask you then--"

  "No," said Philip wistfully. "I--I think you trusted me then, for allour friendship was a thing of weeks."

  "What was it?" asked Diane, grown very white.

  "I am sorry," said Philip simply. "I may not tell you that, Diane. Iam pledged."

  "To whom?"

  "It is better," said Philip, "if I do not tell."

  Diane sharply caught her breath and stared at the sinister wraithsrising in floating files from the swamp stream.

  "Philip--was it--was it Themar's knife?"

  "Yes," said Philip.

  "And the man to whom you are pledged is--Baron Tregar!"

  "Yes," said Philip again.

  "Why were you in the forest that night of storm and wind?"

  Philip glanced keenly at the girl by the creek. Her profile was sternand very beautiful, but the finely moulded lips had quivered.

  "What is it, Diane?" he begged gently. "Why is it that you must ask meall these things that I may not honorably answer?"

  "I--I do not see why you may not answer."

  "An honorable man respects his promise scrupulously!" said Philip witha sigh. "You would not have me break mine?"

  "Why," cried Diane, "did you fight with Themar in the forest? Why haveyou night after night watched my camp? Oh, Philip, surely, surely, youcan tell me!"

  Philip sighed. With his infernal habit of mystery and pledges, theBaron had made this very hard for him.

  "None of these things," he said quietly, "I may tell you or anyone."

  Diane leaned forward and laid her hand upon his arm.

  "Philip," she whispered with dark, tragic eyes fixed upon his face,"who--who shot the bullet that night? Do you know?"

  "Yes," said Philip, "I--I am very sorry. I think I know--"

  "You will not tell me?"

  "No."

  Diane drew back with a shudder.

  "I know the answers to all my questions!" she said in a low voice, andthere was a great horror in her eyes. "Oh, Philip, Philip, go! If--ifyou could have told me something different--"

  "Is it useless to ask you to trust me, Diane?"

  "Go!" said Diane, trembling.

  By the swamp the gray ghosts fell to dancing with locked, transparenthands.

  Blood-red the sun glimmered through the pines and struck fire from agray, cold world.

  Philip bent and caught her hands, quietly masterful.

  "What you may think, Diane," he said unsteadily, "I do not know. Butpart of the answer to every question is my love for you. No--you mustlisten! We have crossed swords and held a merry war, but through itall ran the strong thread of friendship. We must not break it now. Doyou know what I thought that day on the lake when I saw you comingthrough the trees? I said, I have found her! God willing, here is theperfect mate with whom I must go through life, hand in hand, if I am tolive fully and die at the last having drained the cup of life to thebottom. If, knowing this, you can not trust me and will tell me so--"

  But Ronador's eloquent voice rang again in the girl's ears. Her glancemet Philip's inexorably. And there was something in her eyes that hurthim cruelly. For an instant his face flamed scarlet, then it grewwhite and hard and very grim.

  "Go!" said Diane and buried her face in her hands.

  With no final word of extenuation Philip went.

  Diane stumbled hurriedly through the trees to Keela's camp and touchedthe Indian girl frantically upon the shoulder.

  "Keela," she cried desperately, "wake! wake! It's sunrise. Let us gosomewhere--anywhere--and leave this treacherous world of civilizationbehind us. I--I am tired of it all."

  Keela stared.

  "Very well," she said sedately a little later. "You and I, Diane, wewill journey to my home in the Glades. There--as it was a centuryback--so it is now."