Enoch sighed again and, turning to the table, picked up the flat package he had laid there on entering the room.

“This is my diary, Diana,” placing it in her hands.  “Be as gentle as you can in judging me, as you read it.  If we were to be married, I think I would not have let you see it, but as it is, I am giving to you the most intimate thing in my possession, and I feel somehow as if in so doing I am tying myself to you forever.”

Diana clasped the book to her heart, and laid her burning cheek against Enoch’s.  But she did not speak.  Enoch held her slender body against his and the firelight flickered on the two motionless forms.

“Diana,” said Enoch huskily, “you are going on with your work, as earnestly as ever, are you not?”

“Not quite so earnestly because, after I reach the East again, Minetta Lane will be my job.”

“Oh, Diana, I beg of you, don’t soil your hands with that!” groaned Enoch.

“I must!  I must, Enoch!” Then Diana’s voice broke and again the room was silent.  They stood clinging to each other until Frank’s voice was heard in the rear of the house.

“It’s an infernal shame, I say.  President or no President!”

“I’m going to my room for a little while,” whispered Diana.  And when Frank stamped into the room, Enoch was standing alone, his great head bowed in the firelight.

“Can’t you stall ’em off a little while?” demanded Frank.

Enoch shook his head with a smile.  “I’ve played truant too long to dictate now.  Jonas and I must pull out to-night.  Perhaps it’s best, after all, Frank, and yet, it seemed for a moment as if it were physically impossible for me to give up that trip down Bright Angel.  I’ve dreamed of it for twenty-two years.  And to go down with Diana and you—­”

“It’s life!” said Frank briefly.  He sank into an armchair and neither man spoke until Na-che announced supper.

Diana appeared then, her cheeks and eyes bright and her voice steady.  Enoch never had seen her in a more whimsical mood and the meal, which he had dreaded, passed off quickly and pleasantly.

Not long after dinner, Frank announced the buck-board ready for the drive to the station.  He slammed the door after this announcement, and Enoch took Diana in his arms and kissed her passionately.

“Good-by, Diana.”

“Good-by, Enoch!” and the last golden moment was gone.

Enoch had no very clear recollection of his farewells to Na-che and Frank.  Outwardly calm and collected, within he was a tempest.  He obeyed Jonas automatically, went to his berth at once, and toward dawn fell asleep to the rumble of the train.  The trip across the continent was accomplished without untoward incident.  Enoch was, of course, recognized by the trainmen, but he kept to the stateroom that Jonas had procured and refused to see the reporters who boarded the train at Kansas City and again at Chicago.  After the