"Well," said Diana, finally, "after you've finished your inspection, perhaps you'll sit down and talk."
Enoch smiled and established himself beside her. He refilled his pipe, lighted it and laid it down. "Miss Allen," he said abruptly, "you saw the article in the Brown papers?"
"I thought what others think, that Brown is an unspeakable cur."
"I can't tell you how keenly I feel for you in the matter, Miss Allen. I would have given anything to have saved you from it."
"Would you? I'm not so sure that I would! You see, I'm just enough of a hero worshiper to be proud to have my name coupled in friendship with that of a great man."
"A great man!" repeated Enoch quietly, yet with a bitterness in his voice that wrung Diana's heart.
"Yes, Mr. Huntingdon," Diana's voice broke a little and she turned her head away.
The utter silence of the Canyon enveloped them.
At last Enoch said, "You have a big soul, Miss Allen, but you shall not sacrifice one smallest fragment of--of your perfection for me. If it is necessary for me to kill Brown, I shall do so."
Enoch, at the sound of his name on her lips, touched her hand quickly and softly with his own, and as quickly drew it away, jumped to his feet and began to pace the trail.
"Yes, kill him, the cur! Diana, he did not even leave me a mother in the public mind! He maligned you. The burdens that I have carried for all the years, the horrors that I've wrestled with, the secret shames that I've hidden, he's exposed them all in the open marketplace. And he dragged you into my mire! Diana, each man must be broken in a different way. Some are broken by money, some by physical fear, some by spiritual fear, some--"
Diana interrupted. "Enoch, are you a friend of mine?"
Enoch turned his tortured eyes to hers. "I shall never tell you how much a friend I am to you, Diana. But my friendship is a fact you may draw on all the days of your life, as heavily as you will."
"And I am your friend. Though I know you so little, no friend is as dear to me as you are." She rose and coming to his side, she took his hand in both of hers.
"Dear Enoch, what a man like Brown can say of you in an article or two, has no permanent weight with the public. Scurrilous stories of that type kill themselves by their very scurrility. No matter how eagerly the public may lap up the stuff, it cannot really heed it for, Enoch, America knows you and your service. America loves you. Brown cannot dislodge you by slandering your mother. The real importance and danger of that story lies in its reaction on you. I--I could not help recalling the story of that tormented, red-haired boy who went down Bright Angel trail with my father and I had to come to help him, if I could. O Enoch, if the Canyon could only, once more, wipe Luigi Guiseppi out of your life!"