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Updated: June 4, 2025
Her eyes, dark with horror in the colorless oval of her face, met Ronador's with mute appeal. "It it can not be," she added quietly. "The man was Philip Poynter." Ronador caught her hands again with fierce resolve. His eyes were blazing with excitement and anger at the utter faith in her voice.
For every admission he made that night by the marsh tallied with the terrible tale of Ronador. I had thought he followed and watched by night for another reason." "What reason?" "I do not know. A finer, holier reason " The wind fluttered and fell, and rose again with a plaintive sigh. "You know, but you will not tell!" "It it may be so.
He is false he is false!" cried the voice of the girl's sore heart; "a false sentry and a false protector. I can not bear it. Philip! Philip! It was Themar's knife and the bullet was his and all that seemed fine and noble was black and false!" "You will not trust him as he begged!" "I can not. For he will not tell me the reason for all these things!" "You will wed Prince Ronador?" "Yes.
"Lady of Gold and Black!" said Carl and bowed profoundly. The reckoning of Ronador and the Baron came by the cypress pool. "It is useless to rave and storm," said Tregar quietly. "I hold the cards." "Was it necessary to humiliate me in the presence of Miss Westfall?" demanded Ronador bitterly. With all his sullenness there was in his tone a marked respect for the older man.
Chatting pleasantly they returned to camp. Imperceptibly their talk of the fortunes of the road took on a more intimate tinge of reminiscence and presently, with searching eyes fixed upon the vivid, lovely face of the wind-brown gypsy beneath the cedar, Ronador asked the girl to marry him. Very gently Diane released her hands from his grasp, her cheeks scarlet.
There were times when a great peace dwarfed the memory of the moon above the marsh; there were times when the thought of Ronador and Philip sent her riding wildly across the plains with Keela; there were still other times when a nameless disquiet welled up within her, some furtive distrust of the gypsy wildness of her blood. But in the main the days were quiet and peaceful.
"Excellency," he said to Ronador, "that you may not feel impelled again to violence in the suppression of this curious fragment of family history, let me warn you that the story has been entrusted in full to Father Joda, who knew and loved your cousin. Any spectacular irrationality that you may hereafter develop in connection with Miss Westfall, will lead to its disclosure.
Ronador seemed about to speak, thought better of it and closed his lips in a tense white line of sullenness. Philip glanced keenly at him, and his own mouth grew a little sterner.
When at length, conscious of the electric constraint of the atmosphere, Ronador wheeled uncomfortably and met Philip's level glance, he stared and reddened, hot insolent anger in the flash of his eyes and the curl of his lips. "Dear me!" faltered Aunt Agatha, guiltily conscious of the letter, "I am surprised, I am indeed!
With terrible anger in her flashing eyes, Diane flung the revolver into the placid lake, and facing Ronador, her sweet, stern mouth contemptuous, she met his imploring gaze with one of scathing rebuke. "Excellency," she said to Ronador, "whatever else Mr. Poynter may have in mind, there is surely now an explanation which it behooves you to make as a gentleman who is not a coward!"
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