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Updated: May 8, 2025
One moment he determined to flee the country; the next he resolved to surrender to the police and tell all that he knew, so that the real murderer might be sought for without loss of time. But the latter course was risky, fraught with terrible possibilities. The evidence would be strong against him. He remembered Diane's letter. He must destroy it!
A slight flush came into Catherine de Medicis' cheeks at this mention of the mistress, and her voice trembled a little. "I trust madame will soon be better; but you, sire, will always find us gay here." "It seems so. What was the particular jest? It might bring a smile to Diane's face when I tell her of it." I moved back, so that I did not hear the Queen's answer, but Henri laughed loudly.
Yard by yard we crept up; and then mademoiselle heard the beat of following hoofs, and called to her horse, and the brave beast replied gallantly. But there was little use. He was no match for the big dun mare, and at last there was one effort more, and I was by Diane's side. "This is not the road, mademoiselle!"
Eustache, a married saint, who had known love, and could feel for her, and could surely not object to the affection to which she completely gave way for one whose hand was now as free as her own. But St. Eustache was not Diane's only hope.
In a few minutes Diane and Amelie had exchanged the elegant disorder of the fair Diane's bedroom for the severe but dignified and splendid austerity of the Duchesse de Grandlieu's rooms. She, a Portuguese, and very pious, always rose at eight to attend mass at the little church of Sainte-Valere, a chapelry to Saint-Thomas d'Aquin, standing at that time on the esplanade of the Invalides.
Carl ignored the delicate note of sarcasm. "It is merely," he said with a flash of impudence, "that you will marry me." Diane's eyes widened. "How frankly commercial!" she murmured. "Isn't it?" said Carl. "And an excellent opportunity for belated justice as well. My mother, save for our infernal Salic law of inheritance, was entitled to half the Westfall estate."
Diane's camp lay barely two miles to the west. Homing at sunset Philip had veered and circled over it. Now as he turned westward toward the river, the nature of his errand chafed him sorely. "Nor can I see," mused Philip, puffing uncomfortably at his pipe, "why in the devil he wants to know!"
On toward the door of Diane's shelter he crept and once more lay inert and quiet. Thunder rumbled disquietingly off to the east, The wind was rising over the Glades with a violent rustle of grass and leaves. Now that his arm was nerved at last to its terrible task, it behooved him to hurry, ere the rain and thunder stirred the camp. Noiselessly he crawled forward again.
Farrell slept in a deserted cabin without a fire and not enough bedding. He caught pneumony. By the time he reached the claim he was a mighty sick man. Next week he died. That's all Mac done to O'Neill. Not a thing that wasn't legal either." Gordon thought of Sheba O'Neill as she sat listening to the tales of Macdonald in Diane's parlor and his gorge rose at the man.
Hers was the only living voice that could testify to the happy relations always existing between her son and his wife. She could tell, and would tell, that George had fallen as the champion of Diane's honor, and not as the victim of her baseness. If he died it was because he believed in her, not because he was seeking the readiest refuge from their common life. Diane would explain all to Mrs.
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