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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Diana, by Susan Warner
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Diana
+
+Author: Susan Warner
+
+Release Date: August 28, 2009 [EBook #29824]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIANA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Daniel Fromont
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+DIANA
+
+
+
+BY
+
+SUSAN WARNER,
+
+AUTHOR OF
+
+"THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD," "QUEECHY," ETC. ETC.
+
+
+
+LONDON
+
+JAMES NISBET & CO., 21 BERNERS STREET.
+
+MDCCCLXXVII.
+
+
+
+
+
+   "Know well, my soul, God's hand controls
+   Whate'er thou fearest;
+   Round Him in calmest music rolls
+   Whate'er thou hearest.
+
+
+
+   "What to thee is shadow, to Him is day,
+   And the end He knoweth;
+   And not on a blinded, aimless way
+   The spirit goeth."
+
+
+
+WHITTIER.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. THE SEWING SOCIETY
+
+CHAPTER II. THE NEW MINISTER
+
+CHAPTER III. HARNESSING PRINCE
+
+CHAPTER IV. MOTHER BARTLETT
+
+CHAPTER V. MAKING HAY
+
+CHAPTER VI. MR. KNOWLTON'S FISH
+
+CHAPTER VII. BELLES AND BLACKBERRIES
+
+CHAPTER VIII. THE NEW RICHES OF THE OLD WORLD
+
+CHAPTER IX. MRS STARLING'S OPINIONS
+
+CHAPTER X. IN SUGAR
+
+CHAPTER XI. A STORM IN SEPTEMBER
+
+CHAPTER XII. THE ASHES OF THE FIRE
+
+CHAPTER XIII. FROM THE POST OFFICE
+
+CHAPTER XIV.  MEETING AT ELMFIELD
+
+CHAPTER XV. CATECHIZING
+
+CHAPTER XVI. IS IT WELL WITH THEE?
+
+CHAPTER XVII. THE USE OF LIVING
+
+CHAPTER XVIII. A SNOWSTORM
+
+CHAPTER XIX. OUT OF HUMDRUM
+
+CHAPTER XX. SETTLED
+
+CHAPTER XXI. UNSETTLED
+
+CHAPTER XXII. NEW LIFE
+
+CHAPTER XXIII. SUPPER AT HOME
+
+CHAPTER XXIV. THE MINISTER'S WIFE
+
+CHAPTER XXV. MISS COLLINS' WORK
+
+CHAPTER XXVI. THINGS UNDONE
+
+CHAPTER XXVII. BONDS
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII. EVAN'S SISTER
+
+CHAPTER XXIX. HUSBAND AND WIFE
+
+CHAPTER XXX. SUNSHINE
+
+CHAPTER XXXI. A JUNE DAY
+
+CHAPTER XXXII. WIND AND TIDE
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII. BUDS AND BLOSSOMS
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV. DAIRY AND PARISH WORK
+
+CHAPTER XXXV. BABYLON
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI. THE PARTY
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII. AT ONE
+
+
+
+
+
+DIANA.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+
+THE SEWING SOCIETY.
+
+
+
+I am thinking of a little brown house, somewhere in the wilds of New
+England. I wish I could make my readers see it as it was, one June
+afternoon some years ago. Not for anything very remarkable about it;
+there are thousands of such houses scattered among our hills and
+valleys; nevertheless one understands any life story the better for
+knowing amid what sort of scenes it was unfolded. Moreover, such a
+place is one of the pleasant things in the world to look at, as I
+judge. This was a small house, with its gable end to the road, and a
+lean-to at the back, over which the long roof sloped down
+picturesquely. It was weather-painted; that was all; of a soft dark
+grey now, that harmonized well enough with the gayer colours of meadows
+and trees. And two superb elms, of New England's own, stood beside it
+and hung over it, enfolding and sheltering the little old house, as it
+were, with their arms of strength and beauty. Those trees would have
+dignified anything. One of them, of the more rare weeping variety,
+drooped over the door of the lean-to, shading it protectingly, and
+hiding with its long pendant branches the hard and stiff lines of the
+building. So the green draped the grey; until, in the soft mingling of
+hues, the light play of sunshine and shadow, it seemed as if the
+smartness of paint upon the old weather-boarding would have been an
+intrusion, and not an advantage. In front of the house was a little
+space given to flowers; at least there were some irregular patches and
+borders, where balsams and hollyhocks and pinks and marigolds made a
+spot of light colouring; with one or two luxuriantly-growing blush
+roses, untrained and wandering, bearing a wealth of sweetness on their
+long, swaying branches. There was that spot of colour; all around and
+beyond lay meadows, orchards and cultivated fields; till at no great
+distance the ground became broken, and rose into a wilderness of hills,
+mounting higher and higher. In spots these also showed cultivation; for
+the most part they were covered with green woods in the depth of June
+foliage. The soft, varied hilly outline filled the whole circuit of the
+horizon; within the nearer circuit of the hills the little grey house
+sat alone, with only one single exception. At the edge of the meadow
+land, half hid behind the spur of a hill, stood another grey
+farm-house; it might have been half a mile off. People accustomed to a
+more densely populated country would call the situation lonesome;
+solitary it was. But Nature had shaken down her hand full of treasures
+over the place. Art had never so much as looked that way. However, we
+can do without art on a June afternoon.
+
+The door of the lean-to looked towards the road, and so made a kind of
+front door to the kitchen which was within. The door-sill was raised a
+single step above the rough old grey stone which did duty before it;
+and sitting on the doorstep, in the shadow and sunlight which came
+through the elm branches and fell over her, this June afternoon, was
+the person whose life story I am going to try to tell. She sat there as
+one at home, and in the leisure of one who had done her work; with arms
+crossed upon her bosom, and an air of almost languid quiet upon her
+face. The afternoon was quiet-inspiring. Genial warm sunshine filled
+the fields and grew hazy in the depth of the hills; the long hanging
+elm branches were still; sunlight and shadow beneath slept in each
+other's arms; soft breaths of air, too faint to move the elms, came
+nevertheless with reminders and suggestions of all sorts of sweetness;
+from the leaf-buds of the woods, from the fresh turf of the meadows,
+from a thousand hidden flowers and ferns at work in their secret
+laboratories, distilling a thousand perfumes, mingled and untraceable.
+Now and then the breath of the roses was quite distinguishable; and
+from fields further off the delicious scent of new hay. It was just the
+time of day when the birds do not sing; and the watcher at the door
+seemed to be in their condition.
+
+She was a young woman, full grown, but young. Her dress was the common
+print working dress of a farmer's daughter, with a spot or two of wet
+upon her apron showing that she had been busy, as her dress suggested.
+Her sleeves were still rolled up above her elbows, leaving the crossed
+arms full in view. And if there is character in faces, so there is in
+arms; and everybody knows there is in hands. These arms were after the
+model of the typical woman's arm; not chubby and round and fat, but
+moulded with beautiful contour, showing muscular form and power, with
+the blue veins here and there marking the clear delicate skin. Only
+look at the arm, without even seeing the face, and you would feel there
+was nervous energy and power of will; no weak, flabby, undecided action
+would ever come of it. The wrist was tapering enough, and the hand
+perfectly shaped, like the arm; not quite so white. The face,--you
+could not read it at once; possibly not till it had seen a few more
+years. It was very reposeful this afternoon. Yet the brow and the head
+bore tokens of the power you would expect; they were very fine; and the
+eyes under the straight brow were full and beautiful, a deep blue-grey,
+changing and darkening at times. But the mouth and lower part of the
+face was as sweet and mobile as three years old; playing as innocently
+and readily upon every occasion; nothing had fixed those lovely lines.
+The combination made it a singular face, and of course very handsome.
+But it looked very unconscious of that fact.
+
+Within the kitchen another woman was stepping about actively, and now
+and then cast an unsatisfied look at the doorway. Finally came to a
+stop in the middle of the floor to speak.
+
+"What are you sittin' there for, Diana?"
+
+"Nothing, that I know of."
+
+"If I was sittin' there for nothin', seems to me I'd get up and go
+somewheres else."
+
+"Where?" said the beauty languidly.
+
+"Anywhere. Goodness! it makes me feel as if nothin' would ever get
+done, to see you sittin' there so."
+
+"It's all done, mother."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Everything."
+
+"Have you got out the pink china?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Is your cake made?"
+
+"Yes, mother; you saw me do it."
+
+"I didn't see you bakin' it, though."
+
+"Well, it is done."
+
+"Did it raise light and puffy?"
+
+"Beautiful."
+
+"And didn't get burned?"
+
+"Only the least bit, in the corner. No harm."
+
+"Have you cut the cheese and shivered the beef?"
+
+"All done."
+
+"Then I think you had better go and dress yourself."
+
+"There's plenty of time. Nobody can be here for two hours yet."
+
+"I wouldn't sit and do nothin', if I was you."
+
+"Why not, mother? when there is really nothing to do."
+
+"I don't believe in no such minutes, for my part. They never come to
+me. Look at what I've done to-day, now. There was first the lighting
+the fire and getting breakfast. Then I washed up, and righted the
+kitchen and set on the dinner. Then I churned and brought the butter
+and worked _that_. Then there was the dairy things. Then I've been in
+the garden and picked four quarts of ifs-and-ons for pickles; got 'em
+all down in brine, too. Then I made out my bread, and made biscuits for
+tea, and got dinner, and eat it, and cleared it away, and boiled a ham."
+
+"Not since dinner, mother?"
+
+"Took it out, and that; and got all my pots and kettles put away; and
+picked over all that lot o' berries, I think I'd make preserves of 'em,
+Diana; when folks come to sewing meeting for the missionaries they
+needn't have all creation to eat, seems to me. They don't sew no better
+for it. _I_ believe in fasting, once in a while."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"What for? Why, to keep down people's stomach; take off a slice of
+their pride."
+
+"Mother! do you think eating and people's pride have anything to do
+with each other?"
+
+"I guess I do! I tell you, fasting is as good as whipping to take down
+a child's stomach; let 'em get real thin and empty, and they'll come
+down and be as meek as Moses. Folks ain't different from children."
+
+"You never tried that with me, mother," said Diana, half laughing.
+
+"Your father always let you have your own way. I could ha' managed
+_you_, I guess; but your father and you was too much at once. Come,
+Diana do--get up and go off and get dressed, or something."
+
+But she sat still, letting the soft June air woo her, and the scents of
+flower and field hold some subtle communion with her. There was a
+certain hidden harmony between her and them; and yet they stirred her
+somehow uneasily.
+
+"I wonder," she said after a few minutes' silence, "what a nobleman's
+park is like?"
+
+The mother stood still again in the middle of the kitchen.
+
+"A park!"
+
+"Yes. It must be something beautiful; and yet I cannot think how it
+could be prettier than this."
+
+"Than what?" said her mother impatiently.
+
+"Just all this. All this country; and the hayfields, and the
+cornfields, and the hills."
+
+"A park!" her mother repeated. "I saw a 'park' once, when I was down to
+New York; you wouldn't want to see it twice. A homely little mite of a
+green yard, with a big white house in the middle of it; and homely
+enough _that_ was too. It might do very well for the city folks; but
+the land knows I'd be sorry enough to live there. What's putting parks
+in your head?"
+
+But the daughter did not answer, and the mother stood still and looked
+at her, with perhaps an inscrutable bit of pride and delight behind her
+hard features. It never came out.
+
+"Diana, do you calculate to be ready for the sewin' meetin'?"
+
+"Yes, mother."
+
+"Since they must come, we may as well make 'em welcome; and they won't
+think it, if you meet 'em in your kitchen dress. Is the new minister
+comin', do you s'pose?"
+
+"I don't know if anybody has told him."
+
+"Somebody had ought to. It won't be much of a meetin' without the
+minister; and it 'ud give him a good chance to get acquainted. Mr.
+Hardenburgh used to like to come."
+
+"The new man doesn't look much like Mr. Hardenburgh."
+
+"It'll be a savin' in biscuits, if he ain't."
+
+"I used to like to see Mr. Hardenburgh eat, mother."
+
+"I hain't no objection--when I don't have the biscuits to make. Diana,
+you baked a pan o' them biscuits too brown. Now you must look out, when
+you put 'em to warm up, or they'll be more'n crisp."
+
+"Everybody else has them cold, mother."
+
+"They won't at my house. It's just to save trouble; and there ain't a
+lazy hair in me, you ought to know by this time."
+
+"But I thought you were for taking down people's pride, and keeping the
+sewing society low; and here are hot biscuits and all sorts of thing,"
+said Diana, getting up from her seat at last.
+
+"'The cream'll be in the little red pitcher--so mind you don't go and
+take the green one. And do be off, child, and fix yourself; for it'll
+be a while yet before I'm ready, and there'll be nobody to see folks
+when they come."
+
+Diana went off slowly up-stairs to her own room. There were but two,
+one on each side of the little landing-place at the head of the stair;
+and she and her mother divided the floor between them. Diana's room was
+not what one would have expected from the promise of all the rest of
+the house. That was simple enough, as the dwelling of a small farmer
+would be, and much like the other farm-houses of the region. But
+Diana's room, a little one it was, had one side filled with
+bookshelves; and on the bookshelves was a dark array of solid and
+ponderous volumes. A table under the front window held one or two that
+were apparently in present use; the rest of the room displayed the more
+usual fittings and surroundings of a maiden's life. Only in their
+essentials, however; no luxury was there. The little chest of drawers,
+covered with a white cloth, held a brush and comb, and supported a tiny
+looking-glass; small paraphernalia of vanity. No essences or perfumes
+or powders; no curling sticks or crimping pins; no rats or cats,
+cushions or frames, or skeletons of any sort, were there for the help
+of the rustic beauty; and neither did she need them. So you would have
+said if you had seen her when her toilette was done. The soft outlines
+of her figure were neither helped nor hidden by any artificial
+contrivances. Her abundant dark hair was in smooth bands and a
+luxuriant coil at the back of her head--woman's natural crown; and she
+looked nature-crowned when she had finished her work. Just because
+nature had done so much for her and she had let nature alone; and
+because, furthermore, Diana did not know or at least did not think
+about her beauty. When she was in order, and it did not take long, she
+placed herself at the table under the window before noticed, and
+opening a book that lay ready, forgot I dare say all about the sewing
+meeting; till the slow grating of wheels at the gate brought her back
+to present realities, and she went down-stairs.
+
+There was a little old green waggon before the house, with an old horse
+and two women, one of whom had got down and was tying the horse's head
+to the fence.
+
+"Are you afraid he will run away?" said the voice of Diana gaily from
+the garden.
+
+"Massy! no; but he might hitch round somewheres, you know, and get
+himself into trouble. Thank ye--I am allays thankful and glad when I
+get safe out o' this waggin."
+
+So spoke the elder lady, descending with Diana's help and a great deal
+of circumlocution from her perch in the vehicle. And then they went
+into the bright parlour, where windows and doors stood open, and chairs
+had been brought in, ready to accommodate all who might come.
+
+"It's kind o' sultry," said the same lady, wiping her face. "I declare
+these ellums o' yourn do cast an elegant shadder. It allays sort o'
+hampers me to drive, and I don't feel free till I can let the reins
+fall; that's how I come to be so heated. Dear me, you do excel in
+notions!" she exclaimed, as Diana presented some glasses of cool water
+with raspberry vinegar. "Ain't that wonderful coolin'!"
+
+"Will the minister come to the meeting, Diana?" asked the other woman.
+
+"He'd come, if he knowed he could get anything like this," said the
+other, smacking her lips and sipping her glass slowly. And then came in
+her hostess.
+
+If Mrs. Starling was hard-favoured, it cannot be denied that she had a
+certain style about her. Some ugly people do. Country style, no doubt;
+but these things are relative; and in a smart black silk, with sheer
+muslin neckerchief and a close-fitting little cap, her natural
+self-possession and self-assertion were very well set off. Very
+different from Diana's calm grace and simplicity; the mother and
+daughter were alike in nothing beyond the fact that each had character.
+Perhaps that is a common fact in such a region and neighbourhood; for
+many of the ladies who now came thronging in to the meeting looked as
+if they might justly lay claim to so much praise. The room filled up;
+thimbles and housewives came out of pockets; work was produced from
+baskets and bags; and tongues went like mill-clappers. They put the
+June afternoon out of countenance. Mrs. Barry, the good lady who had
+arrived first, took out her knitting, and in a corner went over to her
+neighbour all the incidents of her drive, the weather, the getting out
+of the waggon, the elm-tree shadow, and the raspberry vinegar. Mrs.
+Carpenter, a well-to-do farmer's wife, gave the details of her dairy
+misfortunes and success to _her_ companion on the next seat. Mrs.
+Flandin discussed missions. Mrs. Bell told how the family of Mr.
+Hardenburgh had got away on their journey to their new place of abode.
+
+"I always liked Mr. Hardenburgh," said Mrs. Carpenter.
+
+"He had a real good wife," remarked Miss Gunn, the storekeeper's
+sister, "and that goes a great way. Mrs. Hardenburgh was a right-down
+good woman."
+
+"But you was speakin' o' _Mr._ Hardenburgh, the dominie," said Mrs.
+Salter. "He was a man as there warn't much harm in, I've allays said.
+'Tain't a man's fault if he can't make his sermons interestin', I
+s'pose."
+
+"Mr. Hardenburgh preached real good sermons, now, always seemed to me,"
+rejoined Mrs. Carpenter. "He meant right; that's what he did."
+
+"That's _so!_" chimed in Mrs. Mansfield, a rich farmer in her own
+person.
+
+"There was an owl up in one of our elm-trees one night," began Mrs.
+Starling.
+
+"Du tell! so nigh's that!" said Mrs. Barry from her corner.
+
+"--And I took up Josiah's gun and _meant_ to shoot him; but I didn't."
+
+"He was awful tiresome--there!" exclaimed Mrs. Boddington. "What's the
+use of pretendin' he warn't? Nobody couldn't mind what his sermons was
+about; I don't believe as he knew himself. Now, a minister had ought to
+know what he means, whether any one else does or not, and I like a
+minister that makes _me_ know what he means."
+
+"Why, Mrs. Boddington," said Mrs. Flandin, "I didn't know as you cared
+anything about religion, one way or another."
+
+"I've got to go to church, Mrs. Flandin; and I'd a little rayther be
+kep' awake while I'm there without pinching my fingers. I'd prefer it."
+
+"Why, has anybody _got_ to go to church that doesn't want to go?"
+inquired Diana. But that was like a shell let off in the midst of the
+sewing circle.
+
+"Hear that, now!" said Mrs. Boddington. "Ain't that a rouser!" Mrs.
+Boddington was a sort of a cousin, and liked the fun; she lived in the
+one farm-house in sight of Mrs. Starling's.
+
+"She don't mean it," said Mrs. Mansfield.
+
+"Trust Di Starling for meaning whatever she says," returned the other.
+"You and I mayn't understand it, but that's all one, you know."
+
+"But what _do_ she mean?" said Mrs. Salter.
+
+"Yes, what's the use o' havin' a church, ef folks ain't goin' to it?"
+said Mrs. Carpenter.
+
+"No," said Diana, laughing; "I only asked why any one _must_ go, if he
+don't want to? Where's the _must?_"
+
+"When we had good Mr. Hardenburgh, for example," chimed in Mrs.
+Boddington, "who was as loggy as he could be; good old soul! and put us
+all to sleep, or to wishin' we could. My! hain't I eaten quarts o' dill
+in the course o' the summer, trying to keep myself respectably awake
+and considerin' o' what was goin' on! Di says, why _must_ any one eat
+all that dill that don't want to?"
+
+"Cloves is better," suggested Miss Gunn.
+
+Some laughed at this; others looked portentously grave.
+
+"It's just one o' Di's nonsense speeches," said her mother; "what they
+mean I'm sure I don't know. She reads too many books to be just like
+other folks."
+
+"But the books were written by other folks, mother."
+
+"La! some sort, child. Not our sort, I guess."
+
+"Hain't Di never learned her catechism?" inquired Mrs. Flandin.
+
+"Is there anything about going to church in it?" asked the girl.
+
+"There's most all sorts o' good things in it," answered vaguely Mrs.
+Flandin, who was afraid of committing herself. "I thought Di might ha'
+learned there something about such a thing as we call _duty_."
+
+"That's so," said Mrs. Mansfield.
+
+"Just what I am asking about," said Di. "That's the thing. Why _is_ it
+duty, to go to church when one don't want to go?"
+
+"Well, I'm sure it was time we had a new minister," said Mrs Salter;
+"and I'm glad he's come. If he's no better than old Mr. Hardenburgh,
+it'll take us a spell to find it out; and that'll be so much gained. He
+don't _look_ like him any way."
+
+"He _is_ different, ain't he?" assented Mrs. Boddington. "If we wanted
+a change, we've got it. How did you all like his sermon last Sabbath?"
+
+"He was very quiet--" said Mrs. Flandin.
+
+"I like that," said Diana. "When a man roars at me, I never can tell
+what he is saying."
+
+"He seemed to kind o' know his own mind," said Mrs. Salter.
+
+"I thought he'd got an astonishin' knowledge o' things in the town, for
+the time he's had," said Mrs. Mansfield.
+
+"I wisht he had a family," remarked Miss Gunn; "that's all I've got
+agin him. I think a minister had allays ought to have a family."
+
+"He will,--let him alone a while," said Mrs. Boddington. "Time enough.
+Who have we got in town that would do for him?"
+
+The fruitful topic of debate and discussion here started, lasted the
+ladies for some time. Talk and business got full under weigh. Scissors
+and speeches, clipping and chattering, knitting and the interminable
+yarn of small talk. The affairs, sickness and health, of every family
+in the neighbourhood, with a large discussion of character and
+prospects by the way; going back to former history and antecedents, and
+forward to future probable consequences and results. Nuts of society;
+sweet confections of conversation; of various and changing flavour;
+suiting all palates, and warranted never to cloy. Then there were farm
+prospects and doings also, with household matters; very interesting to
+the good ladies, who all had life interest in them; and the hours moved
+on prosperously. Here a rocking-chair tipped gently back and forward,
+in harmony with the quiet business enjoyment of its occupant; and there
+a pair of heels, stretched out to the farthest limit of their
+corresponding members, with toes squarely elevated in the air,
+testified to the restful condition of another individual of the party.
+See a pair of toes in the air and the heels as nearly as possible
+straight under them, one tucked up on the other, and you may be sure
+the person they belong to feels comfortable--physically. And Mrs.
+Starling in a corner, in her quiet state and black-silk gown, was as
+contented as an old hen that sees all her chickens prosperously
+scratching for themselves. And the June afternoon breathed in at the
+window and upon all those busy talkers; and nobody knew that it was
+June. So things went, until Diana left them to put the finishing
+touches of readiness to the tea-table. Her going was noticed by some of
+the assembly, and taken as a preparatory note of the coming
+entertainment; always sure to be worth having and coming for in Mrs.
+Starling's house. Needles and tongues took a fresh stir.
+
+"Mis' Starling, are we goin' to hev' the minister?" somebody asked.
+
+"I don't know as anybody has told him, Mis' Mansfield."
+
+"Won't seem like a meetin', ef we don't hev' him."
+
+"He's gone down to Elmfield," said Miss Gunn. "He went down along in
+the forenoon some time. Gone to see his cousin, I s'pose."
+
+"They've got their young soldier home to Elmfield," said Miss Barry. "I
+s'pect they're dreadful sot up about it."
+
+"They don't want _that_," said Mrs. Boddington. "The Knowltons always
+did carry their heads pretty well up, in the best o' times; and now
+Evan's got home, I s'pose there'll be no holding 'em in. There ain't, I
+guess, by the looks."
+
+"What'll he do now? stay to hum and help his gran'ther?"
+
+"La! no. He's home just for a visit. He's got through his education at
+the Military Academy, and now he's an officer; out in the world; but
+he'll have to go somewhere and do his work."
+
+"I wonder what work they do hev' to do?" said Mrs. Salter; "there ain't
+nobody to fight now, is there?"
+
+"Fight the Injuns," said Mrs. Boddington; "or the Mexicans; or the
+English may be; anything that comes handy."
+
+"But we hain't no quarrel with the English, nor nobody, hev' we? I
+thought we was done fightin' for the present," said Miss Barry in a
+disturbed tone of voice.
+
+"Well, suppos'n we be," said Mrs. Boddington; "somebody might give us a
+slap, you know, when we don't expect it, and it's best to be ready; and
+so, Evan Knowlton'll be one o' them that has to stand somewhere with
+his musket to his shoulder, and look after a lot o' powder behind him
+all the while."
+
+"Du tell! if it takes four years to learn 'em to du that," said Miss
+Babbage, the doctor's sister.
+
+"The Knowltons is a very fine family," remarked Miss Gunn.
+
+"If the outside made it," said Mrs. Boddington. "Don't they cut a shine
+when they come into meetin', though! They _think_ they do."
+
+"It takes all the boys' attention off everything," said Mrs. Flandin,
+who was an elderly lady herself.
+
+"And the girls"--added Mrs. Starling. But what more might have been
+said was cut short by Miss Barry's crying out that here was the
+minister coming.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+
+THE NEW MINISTER.
+
+
+
+The little stir and buzz which went round the assembly at this news was
+delightful. Not one but moved excitedly on her seat, and then settled
+herself for an unwonted good time. For the new minister was
+undiscovered ground; an unexamined possession; unexplored treasure. One
+Sunday and two sermons had done no more than whet the appetite of the
+curious. Nobody had made up his mind, or her mind, on the subject, in
+regard to any of its points. So there were eyes enough that from Mrs.
+Starling's windows watched the minister as he dismounted and tied his
+horse to the fence, and then opened the little gate and came up to the
+house. Diana had returned to the room to bid the company out to supper;
+but finding all heads turned one way, and necks craned over, and eyes
+on the stretch, she paused and waited for a more auspicious moment. And
+then came a step in the passage and the door opened.
+
+Mr. Hardenburgh, each lady remembered, used to make the circuit of the
+company, giving every one a several clasp of the hand and an individual
+word of civility. Here was a change! The new minister came into the
+midst of them and stood still, with a bright look and a cheery "Good
+afternoon!" It was full of good cheer and genial greeting; but what
+lady could respond to it? The greeting was not given to _her_. The
+silence was absolute; though eyes said they had heard, and were
+listening.
+
+"I have been down at Elmfield," the new-comer went on, not at all
+disturbed by his reception; "and some one informed me I should find a
+large circle of friends if I came here; so I came. And I find I was
+told truly."
+
+"I guess we'd most given you up," said the mistress of the house,
+coming out of her corner now.
+
+"I don't know what reason you had to expect me! Nobody asked me to
+come."
+
+"We're real glad to see you. Take a chair," said Mrs. Starling, setting
+one for his acceptance as she spoke.
+
+"Mr. Hardenburgh allays used to come to our little meetin's," said Mrs.
+Mansfield.
+
+"Thank you!--And you expect me to do all that Mr. Hardenburgh did?"
+
+There was such a quaint air of good-fellowship and simplicity in the
+new minister's manner, that the little assembly began to stir anew with
+gratification and amusement. But nobody was forward to answer. In fact,
+they were a trifle shy of him. The late Mr. Hardenburgh had been heavy
+and slow; kind, of course, but stiff; you knew just what he would do
+and how he would speak beforehand. There was a delightful freshness and
+uncertainty about this man. Nothing imposing, either; a rather small,
+slight figure; with a face that might or might not be called handsome,
+according to the fancy of the speaker, but that all would agree was
+wonderfully attractive and winning. A fine broad brow; an eye very
+sweet; with a build of the jaw and lines of the mouth speaking both
+strength and the absolutest calm of the mental nature.
+
+"I was afraid I should be late," he went on, looking at his
+watch,--"but the roads are good. How far do you call it from Elmfield?"
+
+"All of five miles," said Mrs. Starling.
+
+"Yes; and one hill to cross. Well! I came pretty well. The long June
+afternoon favoured me."
+
+"Mr. Hardenburgh used to drive a buggy," remarked Miss Barry.
+
+"Yes. Is that one of the things you would like me to do as he did?"
+
+"Well, none of our ministers ever went such a venturesome way before,"
+said the timid little old lady.
+
+"As I do? But if _I_ had been in a buggy, Miss Barry, this afternoon, I
+am afraid you would have got through supper and been near breaking up
+before I could have joined your society."
+
+"How long was you comin', then?" she asked, looking startled.
+
+"And there's another thing, Mr. Masters," said Mrs. Mansfield; "why
+_do_ the days be so much longer in summer than in winter? I asked Mr.
+Hardenburgh once, but I couldn't make out nothin' from what he told me?"
+
+Sly looks and suppressed laughter went round the room, for some of Mrs.
+Mansfield's neighbours were better informed than she in all that lay
+above the level of practical farming; but Mr. Masters quite gravely
+assured her he would make it all clear the first time he had a quiet
+chance at her house.
+
+"And will you walk out to supper, friends?" said Mrs. Starling. "Here's
+Di been standin' waitin' to call us this half hour."
+
+The supper was laid on a long table in the lean-to, which was used as a
+kitchen; but now the fire was out, and the tea-kettle had been boiled
+and was kept boiling in some unknown region. Doors and windows stood
+open, letting the sweet air pass through; and if the floor was bare and
+the chairs were wooden, both one and the other were bright with
+cleanliness; and the long board was bright in another way. Yet the word
+is not misapplied. Such piles of snowy bread and golden cake, such
+delicate cheeses and puffy biscuits, and such transparencies of
+rich-coloured preserves, were an undoubted adornment to Mrs. Starling's
+deal table, and might have been to any table in the world. The deal was
+covered, however, with white cloths. At the upper end the hostess took
+her place behind a regiment of cups and saucers, officered by great tin
+pots which held the tea and coffee. Diana waited.
+
+Everybody had come expecting a good supper and primed for enjoyment;
+and now the enjoyment began. Mrs. Starling might smile grimly to
+herself as she saw her crab-apples and jellies disappear, and the piles
+of biscuits go down and get heaped up again by Diana's care. Nobody was
+at leisure enough to mark her.
+
+"Eat when you can, Mr. Masters," said Mrs. Boddington; "you won't get
+hot biscuits anywhere in Pleasant Valley but here."
+
+"Why not?" said Mr. Masters.
+
+"It ain't the fashion--that's all."
+
+"I s'pose you've seen the fashions to-day down at Elmfield, Mr.
+Masters," said Mrs. Salter. "They don't think as we hev' no fashions,
+up here in the mountains."
+
+"Their fashions is ridiculous!" said Mrs. Flandin. "Do you think it's
+becomin', Mr. Masters, for Christian women to go and make sights of
+themselves?"
+
+"In what way, Mrs. Flandin?"
+
+"Why, goodness! you've seen 'em. Describin's impossible. Euphemie
+Knowlton, she came into church last Sabbath three yards in extent, ef
+she was a foot. It beat me, how she was goin' to get in. Why, there
+warn't room for but three of 'em in the slip, and it took 'em somethin'
+like half an hour to get fixed in their places. I declare I was
+ashamed, and I had to look, for all."
+
+"So had I," assented Miss Carpenter. "I couldn't fairly keep my eyes
+off of 'em."
+
+"And I'm certain she couldn't go agin the wind, with her bonnet; it
+stuck just right up from her face, and ended in a pint, and she had a
+hull garden in the brim of it, _I_ think ministers had ought to preach
+about such doin's."
+
+"And you don't know what ministers are good for if they don't?" said
+Mr. Masters.
+
+"Did _you_ ever see a minister that could get the better of 'em?" said
+Mrs. Boddington. "'Cos, if you did, I would like to go and sit under
+his preachin' a spell, and see what he could do for me."
+
+"Does that express the mind of Pleasant Valley generally?" asked the
+minister, and gravely this time.
+
+"La! we ain't worse than other folks," said Mrs. Salter. "There's no
+harm in dressin' one's self smart now and then, is there? And we want
+to know how, to be sure."
+
+"I hope you don't think Euphemie Knowlton knows how? 'Tain't a quarter
+as becomin' as the way we dress in Pleasant Valley. There ain't the
+least bit of prettiness or gracefulness in a woman's bein' three yards
+round; anyhow we don't think so when it's nature." So Mrs. Salter.
+
+"What do you think o' lettin' your hair down over the shoulders, as if
+you were goin' to comb it?" said Mrs. Boddington; "and goin' to church
+so?"
+
+"But how ever _did_ she make it stand out as it did," asked Miss
+Carpenter. "It was just like spun glass, nothin' smooth or quiet about
+it. Such a yellow mop I never did see. And it warn't a child neither.
+Who is she anyhow?"
+
+"Not she. It is a grown woman," said Mrs. Flandin; "and she looked like
+a wild savage. Don't the minister agree with me, that it ain't becomin'
+for Christian women to do such things?"
+
+It was with a smile and a sigh that the minister answered. "Where are
+you going to draw the line, Mrs. Flandin?"
+
+"Well! with what's decent and comfortable."
+
+"And pretty?"
+
+"La! yes," said Mrs. Salter. "Do let us be as nice as we kin."
+
+"I think people had ought to make themselves as nice-lookin' as they
+can," echoed one of the younger ladies of the party; and there was a
+general chorus of agreeing voices.
+
+"Well!" said the minister; "then comes the question, what is
+nice-looking? I dare say the young lady with the flowing tresses
+thought she was about right."
+
+"She thought she was the only one," said Mrs. Boddington.
+
+A subject was started now which was fruitful enough to keep all tongues
+busy; and whether biscuits or opinions had the most lively circulation
+for some time thereafter it would be hard to say. Old and young, upon
+this matter of town and country fashions, and fashion in general, "gave
+tongue" in concert; proving that Pleasant Valley knew what was what as
+well as any place in the land; that it was doubtful what right Boston
+or New York had to dictate to it; at the same time the means of getting
+at the earliest the mind of Boston or New York was eagerly discussed,
+and the pretensions of Elmfield to any advantage in that matter as
+earnestly denied. The minister sat silent, with an imperturbable face
+that did him credit. At last there was a rush of demands upon him for
+his judgment. He declared that so much had been said upon the subject,
+he must have time to think it over; and he promised to give them some
+at least of his thoughts before long in a sermon.
+
+With this promise, highly satisfied, the assembly broke up. Mrs.
+Starling declared afterwards to her daughter, that if there had been
+any more fashions to talk about they would never have got done supper.
+But now bonnets were put on, and work put up, and one after another
+family party went off in its particular farm waggon or buggy. It was
+but just sundown; the golden glory of the sky was giving a mellow
+illumination to all the land, as one after another the horses were
+unhitched, the travellers mounted into their vehicles, and the wheels
+went softly rolling off over the smooth road. The minister stood by the
+gate, helping the ladies to untie and mount, giving pleasant words
+along with pleasant help, and receiving many expressions of pleasure in
+return.
+
+
+"Dear me, Mr. Masters!" said Miss Barry, the last one, "ain't you
+afraid you'll catch cold, standing there with no hat on?"
+
+"Cold always attacks the weakest part, Miss Barry. My head is safe."
+
+"Well, I declare!" said Miss Barry. "I never heerd that afore."
+
+And as she drove off in her little green waggon, the minister and
+Diana, who had come down to the gate to see the last one off, indulged
+in a harmless laugh. Then they both stood still by the fence a moment,
+resting; the hush was so sweet. The golden glory was fading; the last
+creak of Miss Barry's wheels was getting out of hearing; the air was
+perfumed with the scents which the dew called forth.
+
+"Isn't it delicious?" said the minister, leaning on the little gate,
+and pushing his hair back from his forehead.
+
+"The stillness is pleasant," said Diana.
+
+"Yet you must have enough of that?"
+
+"Yes--sometimes," said the girl. She was a little shy of speaking her
+thoughts to the minister; indeed, she was not accustomed to speak them
+to anybody, not knowing where they could meet entertainment. She
+wondered Mr. Masters did not go like the rest; however, it was pleasant
+enough to stand there talking to him.
+
+"What do you do for books here?" he went on.
+
+"O, I have all my father's books," said Diana. "My father was a
+minister, Mr. Masters; and when he died his books came to me."
+
+"A theological library!" said Mr. Masters.
+
+"Yes. I suppose you would call it so."
+
+"Have you it _here?_"
+
+"Yes. I have it in my room up-stairs. All one end of the room full."
+
+"Do you read these books?"
+
+"Yes. They are all I have to read. I have not read the whole of them."
+
+"No, I suppose not. Do you not find this reading rather heavy?"
+
+"I don't know. Some of the books are rather heavy; I do not read those
+much."
+
+"You must let me look at your library some day, Miss Diana. It would be
+certain to have charms for me; and I'll exchange with you. Perhaps I
+have books that you would not find heavy."
+
+Diana's full grey eyes turned on the minister with a gleam of gratitude
+and pleasure. Her words were not needed to say that she would like that
+kind of barter.
+
+"So your father was a clergyman?" Mr. Masters went on.
+
+"Yes. Not here, though. That was when I was quite little. We lived a
+good way from here; and I remember very well a great many things about
+all that time, till father died, and then mother came back here."
+
+"Came _back_,--then your mother is at home in Pleasant Valley?"
+
+"O, we're both at home here--I was so little when we came; but mother's
+father lived where Nick Boddington does, and owned all this valley--I
+don't mean Pleasant Valley, but all this hollow; a good large farm it
+was; and when he died he left mother a nice piece of it, with this old
+house."
+
+"Mr. Boddington,--is he then a relation of yours?"
+
+"No, not exactly; he's the son of grandpa's second wife; we're really
+no relations, but we call each other cousin. Grandpa left the most of
+his land to his wife; but mother's got enough to manage, and nice land."
+
+"It's a beautiful place!" said the minister. "There is a waggon coming;
+I wonder if any of our friends have forgotten something? That is--yes,
+that _is_ farmer Babbage's team; isn't it? What is the matter?"
+
+For something unusual in the arrangements of the vehicle, or the
+occupants of it, was dimly yet surely to be discerned through the
+distance and the light, which was now turning brown rather than grey.
+Nothing could be seen clearly, and yet it came as no waggon load had
+gone from that door that evening. The minister took his hand from the
+gate, and Diana stepped forward, as the horses stopped in front of the
+lean-to; and a voice called out:
+
+"Who's there to help? Hollo! Lend a hand."
+
+The minister sprang down the road, followed by Diana. "What do you want
+help for?" he asked.
+
+"There's been an accident--Jim Delamater's waggon--we found it
+overturned in the road; and here's Eliza, she hasn't spoke since. Have
+you got no more help?"
+
+"Where's Jim?" asked Mrs. Starling, coming herself from the lean-to.
+
+"Staid with his team; about all he was up to. Now then,--can we get her
+in? Where's Josiah?"
+
+But no more masculine help could be mustered than what was already on
+hand. Brains, however, can do much to supplement muscular force. The
+minister had a settee out from the house in two minutes and by the side
+of the waggon; with management and care, though with much difficulty,
+the unconscious girl was lifted down and laid on the settee; and by the
+aid of the women carried straight into the lean-to, the door of which
+was the nearest. There, by the same energetic ordering, well seconded
+by Diana, a mattress was brought and laid on the long table, which Mrs.
+Starling's diligence had already cleared since supper; and there they
+placed the girl, who was perfectly helpless and motionless in their
+hands.
+
+"There is life yet," said the minister, after an examination during
+which every one stood breathless around. "Loose everything she has on,
+Miss Diana; and let us have some hartshorn, Mrs. Starling, if you have
+got any. Well, brandy, then, and cold water; and I'll go for the
+doctor."
+
+But Mr. Babbage represented that he must himself 'go on hum,' and would
+pass by the doctor's door; so if the minister would stay and help the
+women folks, it would be more advisable. Accordingly the farmer's
+waggon wheels were soon heard departing, and the little group in the
+lean-to kitchen were left alone. Too busy at first to think of it, they
+were trying eagerly every restorative and stimulant they could think of
+and command; but with little effect. A little, they thought; but
+consciousness had not returned to the injured girl, when they had done
+all they knew how to do, and tried everything within their reach. Hope
+began to fade towards despair; still they kept on with the use of their
+remedies. Mrs. Starling went and came between the room where they were
+and the stove, which stood in some outside shed, fetching bottles of
+hot water; I think, between whiles, she was washing up her cups and
+saucers; the other two, in the silence of her absences, could feel the
+strange, solemn contrasts which one must feel, and does, even in the
+midst of keener anxieties than those which beset the watchers there.
+The girl, a fair, rather pretty person, pleasant-tempered and generally
+liked, lay still and senseless on the table round which she and others
+a little while ago had been seated at supper. Very still the room was
+now, that had been full of voices; the smell of camphor and brandy was
+about; the table was wet in one great spot with the cold water which
+had been applied to the girl's face. And through the open door and
+windows came the stir of the sweet night air, and the sound of insects,
+and the gurgle of a brook that ran a few yards off; peaceful, free,
+glad, as if all were as it had been last night, or nature took no
+cognizance of human affairs. The minister had been very active and
+helpful; bringing wood and drawing water and making up the fire, as
+well as anybody, Mrs. Starling said afterwards; he had taken his part
+in the actual nursing, and better than anybody, Diana thought. Now the
+two stood silent and grave by the long table, while they still kept up
+the application of brandy to the face and heat to the extremities, and
+rubbing the hands and wrists of the patient.
+
+"Did you know Miss Delamater well?" asked the minister.
+
+"Yes--as I know nearly all the girls," Diana answered.
+
+"Do you think she is ready for the change--if she must make it?"
+
+Diana hesitated. "I never heard her speak on the subject," she said.
+"She wasn't a member of the church."
+
+Silence followed, and they were two grave faces still that bent over
+the table; but there was the difference between the shadow on a
+mountain lake where there is not a ripple, and the dark stir of
+troubled waters. Diana's eye every now and then glanced for an instant
+at the face of her companion; it was very grave, but the broad brow was
+as quiet as if all its questions were answered, and the mouth was sweet
+and at rest in its stillness. She wished he would speak again; there
+was something in him that provoked her curiosity. He did speak
+presently.
+
+"This shows us what the meaning of life is," he said.
+
+"No," said Diana, "it doesn't--to me. It is just a puzzle, and as much
+a puzzle here as ever. I _don't_ see what the use of life is, or what
+we all live for; I don't see what it amounts to."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked her companion, but not as if he were
+startled, and Diana went on.
+
+"I shouldn't say so if people were always having a good time, and if
+they were just right and did just right. But they are not, Mr. Masters;
+you know they are not; even the best of them, that I see; and things
+like _this_ are always happening, one way or another. If it isn't here,
+it is somewhere else; and if it isn't one time, it is another; and it
+is all confusion. I don't see what it all comes to."
+
+"That is the thought of a moment of pain," said the minister.
+
+"No, it is not," said Diana. "I think it often. I think it all the
+while. Now this very afternoon I was sitting at the door here,--you
+know what sort of a day it has been, Mr. Masters?"
+
+"I know. Perfect. Just June."
+
+"Well, I was looking at it, and feeling how lovely it was; everything
+perfect; and somehow all that perfection took a kind of sharp edge and
+hurt me. I was thinking why nothing in the world was like it, or agreed
+with it; nothing in human life, I mean. This afternoon, when the
+company was here and all the talk going on--_that_ was like nothing out
+of doors all the while; and _this_ is not like it."
+
+There was a sigh, deep drawn, that came through the minister's lips;
+then he spoke cheerfully--"Ay, God's works have parted company somehow."
+
+"Parted--?" said Diana curiously.
+
+"Yes. You remember surely that when he had made all things at first, he
+beheld them very good."
+
+"Well, they are not very good now; not all of them."
+
+"Whose fault is that?"
+
+"I know," said Diana, "but that does not help me with my puzzle. Why
+does the world go on so? what is the use of my living, or anybody's?
+What does it amount to?"
+
+"That's your lesson," the minister answered, with a quick glance from
+his calm eyes. Not a bit of sentiment or of speculative rhapsody there;
+but downright, cool common sense, with just a little bit of authority.
+Diana did not know exactly how to meet it; and before she had arranged
+her words, they heard wheels again, and then the doctor came in.
+
+The doctor approved of what had been done, and aided in renewed
+application of the same remedies. After a time, these seemed at last
+successful; the girl revived; and the doctor, after administering a
+little tea and weak brandy and water, ordered that she should be kept
+quiet where she was, the room be darkened when daylight came on, the
+windows kept open, and handkerchiefs wet with cold water be laid on her
+head. And then he took his departure; and Diana went to communicate to
+her mother the orders he had left.
+
+"Keep her there!" echoed Mrs. Starling. "In the lean-to! She'd be a
+deal better in her bed."
+
+"We must make her bed there, mother."
+
+"There! On the table do you mean? Diana Starling, you are a baby!"
+
+"She mustn't be stirred, mother, he says."
+
+"That's the very thing!" exclaimed Mrs. Starling. "She had ought to ha'
+been carried into one of the bed-chambers at the first; and I said so;
+and the new minister, he would have it all his own way."
+
+"But she must have all the air she could, mother, you know."
+
+"Air!" said Mrs. Starling. "Do you s'pose she would smother in one of
+the chambers, where many a one before her has laid, sick and well, and
+got along too? Air, indeed! The house ain't like a corked bottle, I
+guess."
+
+"Not much," said Diana; "but Mr. Masters said, and the doctor says,
+that she cannot have too much air."
+
+"O well! Eggs can't be beat too much, neither; but it don't follow
+you're to stand beating 'em for ever. I've no patience. Where am I
+going to do my ironing? I should like the minister for to tell me;--or
+get meals, or anything else? I don't see what possessed Josiah to go
+and see his folks to-night of all nights."
+
+"We have not wanted him, mother, after all, that I see."
+
+"I have wanted him," said Mrs. Starling. "If he had been home I needn't
+to have had queer help, and missed knowing who was head of the house.
+Well, go along and fix it,--you and the minister."
+
+"But, mother, I want to get Eliza's things off, and to make her bed
+comfortably; and I can't do it without you."
+
+"Well, get rid of the minister then, and I'll come. Him and me is too
+many in one house."
+
+The minister would not leave the two women alone and go home, as Diana
+proposed to him; but he went to make his horse comfortable while they
+did the same for the sick girl. And then he took up his post just
+outside the door, in the moonlight which came fitfully through the elm
+branches; and he and Diana talked no more that night. He was watchful
+and helpful; for he kept up the fire in the stove, and once more
+brought wood when it was needed. Moonlight melted away at last into the
+dawn; cool clear outlines began to take place of the soft mystery of
+night shadows; then the warm glow from the east, behind the house, and
+the glint of the sunbeams on the tops of the hills and on the racks of
+cloud lying along the horizon. Diana still kept her place by the
+improvised bed, and the minister kept his just outside the door. Mrs.
+Starling began to prepare for breakfast; and finally Josiah, the
+man-of-all-work on the little farm, came from his excursion and from
+the barn, bringing the pails of milk. Then the minister fetched his
+horse, and came in to shake hands with Diana. He would not stay for
+breakfast. She watched him down to the gate, where he threw himself on
+his grey steed and went off at a smooth gallop, swift and steady,
+sitting as if he were more at home on a horse's back than anywhere
+else. Diana looked after him.
+
+"Certainly," she thought, "that is unlike all the other ministers that
+ever came to Pleasant Valley."
+
+"He's off, is he?" said Mrs. Starling as her daughter came in. "Now
+Diana, take notice; don't you go and take a fancy to this new man;
+because I won't favour it, nor have anything of the kind going on. I
+tell you beforehand."
+
+"There is very little danger of his taking a fancy to me, mother."
+
+"I don't know about that. He might do worse. But you couldn't; for I'll
+never have anything to say to you if you do."
+
+"Why, mother?" inquired Diana in much surprise. "I should think you'd
+like him. I should think everybody would. Why don't you like him?"
+
+"He's too masterful for me. Mind what I tell you, Diana."
+
+"It's absurd, mother! Such a one as Mr. Masters never would think of
+such a one as I am. He's a very cultivated man, mother; and has been
+accustomed to very different society from what he'll find here. I don't
+seem to him what I seem to you."
+
+"I hope not!" said Mrs. Starling, "for you seem to me a goose.
+Cultivated! Who is cultivated, if you are not? Weren't you a whole year
+at school in Boston? I guess my gentleman hasn't been to a better
+place. And warn't you for ever reading those musty old books, that make
+you out of kilter for all _my_ world. If you don't fit his neither, I'm
+sorry. Society indeed! There's no better society than the folks of
+Pleasant Valley. Don't you go and set yourself up; nor him neither."
+
+Diana knew better than to carry on the discussion.
+
+Meanwhile the grey horse that bore the minister home kept up that long
+smooth gallop for a half mile or so, then slackened it to walk up a
+hill.
+
+"That's a very remarkable girl," the minister was saying to himself;
+"with much more in her than she knows."
+
+The gallop began again in a few minutes, and was unbroken till he got
+home. It was but a piece of a home. Mr. Masters had rooms in the house
+of Mrs. Persimmon, a poor widow living among the hills. The rooms were
+neat; that was all that could be said for them; little and dark and
+low, with bits of windows, and with the simplest of furnishing. The
+sitting-room was cheerful with books, however--as cheerful as books can
+make a room; and the minister did not look uncheerful, but very grave.
+If his brow was neither wrinkled nor lined, the quiet eyes beneath it
+were deep with thought. Mr. Masters' morning was spent on this wise.
+
+First of all, for a good half hour, his knees were bent, and his
+thoughts, whatever they were, gave him work to do. That work done, the
+minister threw himself on his bed and slept, as quietly as he did
+everything else, for an hour or two more. Then he rose, shaved and
+dressed, took such breakfast as Mrs. Persimmon could give him; mounted
+his grey again, and was off to a house at some distance where there was
+a sick child, and another house where there dwelt an infirm old man.
+Between these two the hours were spent till he rode home to dinner.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+
+HARNESSING PRINCE.
+
+
+
+The improvement of the sick girl was better than had been hoped; it was
+but a day or two before Mrs. Starling's heart's desire could be
+effected and her kitchen cleared. Eliza was moved to another room, and
+at the week's end was taken home.
+
+It was the next day after this had been done; and Diana was sitting
+again in the elm shadow at the door of the lean-to. Not idly this time;
+for a pan of peas was in her lap, and her fingers were busy with
+shelling them. Still her eyes were very much more busy with the lovely
+light and shade on meadow and hill; her glances went up and down, from
+her pan to the sunny landscape. Mrs. Starling, bustling about as usual
+within the house and never looking out, presently hearing the gate
+latch, called out--"Who's that?"
+
+"Joe Bartlett, mother," Diana answered without moving.
+
+It was not the gate that led to the flower patch and the front door.
+That was some distance off. Another little brown gate under the
+elm-tree opened directly in front of the lean-to door; and the patch
+between was all in fleckered sunlight and shadow, like the doorway
+where Diana sat.
+
+The little gate opening now admitted a visitor who was in appearance
+the very typical Yankee of the story books. Long in the limbs, loose in
+the joints, angular, ungainly, he came up the walk with a movement that
+would tempt one to think he had not got accustomed to his inches and
+did not yet know quite what to do with them all. He had a long face,
+red in colour; in expression a mixture of honest frankness,
+carelessness, and good humour.
+
+"Mornin'!" said he as he came near. "How's your folks, this forenoon?"
+
+"Quite well--all there are of us, Joe," said Diana, shelling her peas
+as she looked up at him. "How's your mother?"
+
+"Well, she's pretty smart. Mother seems to be allays just about so. I
+never see the beat of her for keepin' along. You've had quite a spell
+o' nursin' folks, hain't you, down this way? Must ha' upset you quite
+considerable."
+
+"We didn't have the worst of the upsetting."
+
+"That's a fact. Well, she's gone, ain't she?"
+
+"Who, Eliza Delamater? Yes; gone yesterday."
+
+"And you hain't nobody else on hand, have ye?"
+
+"No. Why?"
+
+"Mother's took a lonesome fit. She says it's quite a spell that you
+hain't ben down our way; and I guess that's so, ain't it?"
+
+"I couldn't help it, Joe. I have had other things to do."
+
+"Well, don't you think to-day's a good sort for a visit?"
+
+"To-day?" said Diana, shelling her peas very fast.
+
+"You see, it's pretty silent down to our place. That is, when I ain't
+to hum; and I can't be there much o' the time, 'cept when I'm asleep in
+my bed. I'm off as soon as I've done the chores in the mornin'; and I
+can't get hum nohow sooner than to do up the chores in the evenin'; and
+the old lady has it pretty much her own way as to conversation the rest
+o' the time. She can talk to what she likes; but there ain't nothin' as
+can make a remark back to her."
+
+"It's too bad, Joe!"
+
+"Fact!" said Joe seriously; all the rest had been said with a smile;
+"but you know mother. Come! put on your bonnit and run down and set
+with her a spell. She's took a notion to have ye; and I know she'll be
+watchin' till you come."
+
+"Then I must go. I guess I can arrange it, Joe."
+
+"Well, I'll get along, then, where I had ought to be. Mis' Starling
+cuttin' her hay?"
+
+"Yes, this week and more."
+
+"It's turnin' out a handsome swath; but it had ought to be all down
+now. Well, good day! Hurry up, now, for down yonder."
+
+Diana brought in her pan of peas.
+
+"Mother, where's Josiah Davis?"
+
+"Where should he be? He's up in the hill lot, cuttin' hay. That grass
+is all in flower; it had ought to been cut a week ago; but Josiah
+always has one of his hands behind him."
+
+"And he won't be in till noon. I must harness the waggon myself."
+
+"If you can catch the horse," said her mother. "He's turned out in the
+lot. It's a poor job, at this time o' day."
+
+"I'll try and make a good job of it," said Diana. So she took her
+sun-bonnet and went out to the barn. The old horse was not far off, for
+the "lot" in this case meant simply the small field in which the barn
+and the barnyard were enclosed; but being a wary old animal, with a
+good deal of experience of life, he had come to know that a halter and
+a pan of corn generally meant hard work near at hand, and was won't to
+be shy of such allurements. Diana could sometimes do better than
+anybody else with old Prince; they were on good terms; and Prince had
+sense enough to take notice that she never followed the plough, and was
+therefore a safer venture than his other flatterers. With the corn and
+the halter Diana now sought the corner where Prince was standing
+whisking his tail in the shade of a tree. But it was a warm morning;
+and seeing her approach, Prince quietly walked off into the sun on the
+other side of the tree, and went on to another shady resting-place some
+distance away. Diana followed, speaking to him; but Prince repeated his
+ungallant manoeuvre; and from tree to tree across the sunny field Diana
+trudged after him, until she was hot and tired. Perhaps Prince's
+philosophy came in play at last, warning him that this game could not
+go on for ever, and would certainly end in his discomfiture some time;
+for, with no apparent reason for his change of tactics, he stood still
+at length under the tree farthest from the barn, and suffered himself
+to be made captive. Diana got the halter on, and, flushed and excited
+with the chase, led him back over the lot and out to the road, where
+Josiah had very culpably left the little waggon standing in the shade
+of the elm, close by the lean-to gate. Just as she got there, Diana saw
+a stranger who had his hand on the gate, but who left it now and came
+forward to speak to her.
+
+Diana stood by the thills of the waggon, horse in hand, but, to tell
+the truth, forgetting both. The stranger was unlike anything often seen
+in Pleasant Valley. He wore the dark-blue uniform of an army officer;
+there was a stripe of gold down the seam of his pantaloons and a gold
+bar across his shoulders, and his cap was a soldier's cap. But it was
+not on his head just now; it had come off since he quitted the gate;
+and the step with which he drew near was the very contrast to Joe
+Bartlett's lounging pace; this was measured, clean, compact, and firm,
+withal as light and even as that of an antelope. His hair showed the
+regulation cut; and Diana saw with the same glance a pair of light,
+brilliant, hazel eyes and a finely trimmed mustache. _She_ stood
+flushed and still, halter in hand, with her sun-bonnet pushed a little
+back for air. The stranger smiled just a little.
+
+"May I ask how far I am from a place called Elmfield?"
+
+"It is"--Diana's thoughts wandered,--"It is five miles."
+
+"I ought not to need to ask--but I have been so long away.--Do you know
+how or where I can get a horse, or any conveyance, to bring me there? I
+have ridden beyond this, and met with an accident."
+
+Diana hesitated. "Is it Lieut. Knowlton?" she said.
+
+"Ah, you know me?" said he. "I forgot that Pleasant Valley knows me
+better than I know Pleasant Valley. I did not count on finding a friend
+here." His eye glanced at the little brown house.
+
+"Everybody knows Elmfield," said Diana; "and I guessed--"
+
+"From my dress?" said Mr. Knowlton, following the direction of her
+look. "This was accident too. But which of my friends ought I to know
+here, that I don't know? Pardon me,--but is this horse to be put to the
+waggon or taken away from it?"
+
+"O, I was going to put him in."
+
+"Allow me"--said the young man, taking the halter from Diana's willing
+hands; "but where is the harnessing gear?"
+
+"O, that is in the barn!" exclaimed Diana. "I will go and fetch it."
+
+"Pray no! Let me get it," said her companion; and giving the end of the
+halter a turn round one of the thills, he had overtaken her before she
+had well taken half a dozen steps. They went together through the
+barnyard. Diana found the harness, and the young officer threw it over
+his shoulder with a smile at her which answered her deprecating words;
+a smile extremely pleasant and gentlemanly, if withal a little arch.
+Diana shrank back somewhat before the glance, which to her fancy showed
+the power of keen observation along with the habit of giving orders.
+They went back to the elm, and Mr. Knowlton harnessed the horse, Diana
+explaining in a word or two the necessity under which she had been
+acting.
+
+"And what about my dilemma?" said he presently, as his task was
+finished.
+
+"There is no horse or waggon you could get anywhere, that I know of,"
+said Diana. "The teams are apt to be in use just now. But I am going
+down to within a mile of Elmfield; and I was going to say, if you like,
+I can take you so far."
+
+"And who will do me such kindness?"
+
+"Who? O--Diana Starling."
+
+"Is that a name I ought to know?" inquired Mr. Knowlton. "I shall know
+it from this day; but how about before to-day? I have been gone from
+Pleasant Valley, at school and at the Military Academy, four,
+five,--ten years."
+
+"Mother came back here to live just ten years ago."
+
+"My conscience is clear!" he said, smiling. "I was beginning to whip
+myself. Now are we ready?"
+
+Not quite, for Diana went into the house for her gloves and a straw
+hat; she made no other change in her dress, having taken off her apron
+before she set out after Prince. She found her new friend standing with
+the reins in his hand, as if he were to drive and not she; and Diana
+was helped into her own waggon with a deferential courtesy which up to
+that time she had only read of in books; nor known much even so. It
+silenced her at first. She sat down as mute as a child; and Mr.
+Knowlton handled Prince and the waggon and all in the style of one that
+knew how and had the right.
+
+That drive, however, was not to be silent or stiff in any degree. Mr.
+Knowlton, for his part, had no shyness or hesitation belonging to him.
+He had seen the world and learnt its freedom. Diana was only a simple
+country girl, and had never seen the world; yet she was as little
+troubled with embarrassment of any sort. Partly this was, no doubt,
+because of her sound, healthy New England nature; the solid
+self-respect which does not need--nor use--to put itself in the balance
+with anything else to be assured of its own quality. But part belonged
+to Diana's own personalty; in a simple, large nature, too simple and
+too large to feel small motives or to know petty issues. If her cheeks
+and brow were flushed at first, it was because the sun had been hot in
+the lot and Prince tiresome. She was as composedly herself as ever the
+young officer could be. But I think each of them was a little excited
+by the companionship of the other.
+
+"Do you drive this old fellow yourself?" asked Mr. Knowlton, after a
+little. "But I need not ask! Of course you do. There's no difficulty.
+And not much danger," he added, with a tone so dry and comical that
+they both burst into a laugh.
+
+"I assure you I am very glad to have Prince," said Diana. "He is so old
+now that they generally let him off from the farm work. He takes mother
+and me to church, and stands ready for anything I want most of the
+time."
+
+"Lucky for me, too," said Mr. Knowlton. "I am afraid you will find the
+sun very hot!"
+
+"I? O no, I don't mind it at all," said Diana. "There's a nice air now.
+Where is your horse, Mr. Knowlton? you said you had an accident."
+
+"Yes. That was a quarter of a mile or so beyond your house."
+
+"And is your horse there?"
+
+"Must be, I think. I shall send some people to remove him."
+
+"Why, is he _dead?_"
+
+"I should not have left him else, Miss Starling."
+
+Diana did not choose to go on with a string of questions; and her
+companion hesitated.
+
+"It's my own fault," he said with a sort of displeased half laugh; "a
+piece of boyish thoughtlessness that I've paid for. There was a nice
+red cow lying in the middle of the road"--
+
+"Where?" said Diana, wondering.
+
+"Just ahead of me; a few rods. She was lying quite quietly, taking her
+morning siesta in the sun; plunged in ruminative thoughts, I supposed,
+and the temptation was irresistible to go over without disturbing her."
+
+"_Over_ her?" said Diana in a maze.
+
+"Yes. I counted on what one should never count on--what I didn't know."
+
+"What was that?"
+
+"Whether it would occur to her to get upon her legs, just at that
+moment."
+
+"And she did?" inquired Diana.
+
+"She did."
+
+"What did that do, Mr. Knowlton?"
+
+"Threw my poor steed off _his_ legs forever!" And here, in despite of
+his vexation, which was real and apparent, the young man burst into a
+laugh. Diana had not got at his meaning.
+
+"And where were you, Mr. Knowlton?"
+
+"On his back. I shall never forgive myself for being such a boy. Don't
+you understand? The creature rose up just in time to be in the way of
+my leap, and we were thrown over--my horse and I."
+
+"Thrown! You were not hurt, Mr. Knowlton?"
+
+"I deserved it, didn't? But I was nothing the worse--except for losing
+my horse, and my self-complacency."
+
+"Was the horse killed?"
+
+"No; not by the fall. But he was injured; so that I saw the best thing
+to do would be to put him out of life at once; so I did it. I had my
+pistols; I often ride with them, to be ready for any sport that may
+offer. I am very much ashamed, to have to tell you this story of
+myself!"
+
+There was so much of earnestness in the expression of the last
+sentence, it was said with such a deferential contrition, if I may so
+speak, that Diana's thoughts experienced a diversion from the subject
+that had occasioned them. The contrition came more home than the fault.
+By common consent they went off to other matters of talk. Diana
+explained and commented on the history and features of Pleasant Valley,
+so far at least as her companion's questions called for such
+explanation, and that was a good deal. Mr. Knowlton gave her details of
+his own life and experience, which were much more interesting, she
+thought. The conversation ran freely; and again and again eyes met eyes
+full in sympathy over some grave or laughing point of intelligence.
+
+And what is there in the meeting of eyes? What if the one pair were
+sparkling and quick, and the brow over them bore the fair lines of
+command? What though the other pair were deep and thoughtful and sweet,
+and the brow one that promised passion and power? A thousand other eyes
+might have looked on either one of them, and forgotten; these two
+looked--and remembered. You cannot tell why; it is the old story; the
+hidden, unreadable affinity making itself known to its counterpart; the
+sign and countersign of nature. But it was only nature that gave and
+took; not Diana and Mr. Knowlton.
+
+Meanwhile Prince had an easy time; and the little waggon went very
+gently over the smooth roads past one farm after another.
+
+"Prince _can_ go faster than this," Diana confided at last to her
+companion.
+
+"He doesn't want to, does he?"
+
+Diana laughed, and knew in her heart she was of Prince's mind.
+
+However, even five miles will come to an end in time if you keep going
+even slowly; and in time the little brown house of Mrs. Bartlett
+appeared in the distance, and Prince drew the waggon up before the
+door. Diana alighted, and Mr. Knowlton drove on, promising to send the
+waggon back from Elmfield.
+
+It was coming down, in more ways than one, to get out of the waggon and
+go in to make her visit. Diana did not feel just ready for it. She
+loosened the strings of her hat, walked slowly up the path between the
+hollyhocks that led to the door, and there stopped and turned to take a
+last look at Mr. Knowlton in the distance. Such a ride as she had had!
+Such an entertainment! People in Pleasant Valley did not talk like
+that; nor look like that. How much difference it makes, to have
+education and to see the world! And a military education especially has
+a more liberalizing and adorning effect than the course of life in the
+colleges; the manner of a soldier has in it a charm which is wanting in
+the manner of a minister. As for farmers, they have no manners at all.
+And the very faces, thought Diana.
+
+Well, she could not stand there on the door-step. She must go in. She
+turned and lifted the latch of the door.
+
+The little room within was empty. It was a tiny house; the ground floor
+boasted only two rooms, and each of those was small. The broad hearth
+of flagstones took up a third of the floor of this one. A fire burned
+in the chimney, though the day was so warm; and a straight-backed
+arm-chair, with a faded cushion in it, stood by the chimney corner with
+a bunch of knitting lying on the cushion. Diana tapped at an inner door
+at her right, and then getting no answer, went across the kitchen and
+opened another opposite the one that had admitted her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+
+MOTHER BARTLETT.
+
+
+
+The little house, unpainted like many others, had no fenced enclosure
+on this side. A wide field stretched away from the back door, lying
+partly upon a hill-side; and several cattle were pasturing in it. Farm
+fields and meadows were all around, except where this one hill rose up
+behind the house. It was wooded at the top; below, the ranks of a
+cornfield sloped aspiringly up its base. A narrow footpath, which only
+the tread of feet kept free from weeds and grass, went off obliquely to
+a little enclosed garden, which lay beyond the corner of the house in
+some arbitrary and independent way, not adjoining it at all. It was a
+sweet bit of country, soft and mellow under the summer sun; still as
+grasshoppers and the tinkle of a cowbell could make it; and very far
+from most of the improvements of the nineteenth century. But the smell
+of the pasture and the fragrance that came from the fresh shades of the
+wood, and the freedom of the broad fields of pure ether, made it rich
+with some of nature's homely wealth; which is not by any means the
+worst there is. Diana knew the place very well; her eyes were looking
+now for the mistress of it. And not long. In the out-of-the-way lying
+garden she discerned her white cap; and at the gate met her bringing a
+head of lettuce in her hands.
+
+"I knew you liked it, dear," she said, "and I had forgot all about it;
+and then it flashed on me, and I thought, Diana will like to have it
+for her dinner; and I guess it'll have time to cool. Just put it in a
+tin pail, dear, and hang it down in the well; and it'll be fresh."
+
+This was done, and Diana came in and took a seat by her old friend.
+
+"You needn't do that for me, Mother Bartlett. I don't care what I have
+to eat."
+
+"Most folks like what is good," said the old lady; "suppos'n they know
+it."
+
+"Yes, and so do I, but"--
+
+"I made a pot-pie for ye," the old lady went on contentedly.
+
+"And I suppose you have left nothing at all for me to do, as usual. It
+is too bad, Mother Bartlett."
+
+"You shall do all the rest," said her friend; "and now you may talk to
+me."
+
+She was a trim little old woman, not near so tall as her visitor; very
+wrinkled, but fresh-skinned, and with a quick grey eye. Her dress was a
+common working dress of some dark stuff; coarse, but tidy and
+nice-looking; her cap white and plain; she sat in her arm-chair,
+setting her little feet to the fire, and her fingers merrily clicking
+her needles together; a very comfortable vision. The kitchen and its
+furniture were as neat as a pin.
+
+"I don't see how you manage, Mother Bartlett," Diana went on, glancing
+around. "You ought to have some one to live with you and help you. It
+looks as if you had half a dozen."
+
+"Not much," said the old lady, laughing. "A half dozen would soon make
+a muss, of one sort or another. There's nothin' like having nobody."
+
+"But you might be sick."
+
+"I might be;--but I ain't," said Mrs. Bartlett, running one end of a
+knitting-needle under her cap and looking placidly at Diana.
+
+"But you might want somebody."
+
+"When I do I send for 'em. I sent for you to-day, child; and here you
+are."
+
+"But you are quite well to-day?" said Diana a little anxiously.
+
+"I am always well. Never better."
+
+"How old are you, Mother Bartlett?"
+
+"Seventy-three years, child."
+
+"Well, I do think you oughtn't to be here alone. It don't seem right,
+and I don't think it is right."
+
+"What's to do, child? There ain't nary one to come and live with me.
+They're all gone but Joe. My Lord knows I'm an old woman seventy-three
+years of age."
+
+"What then, Mother Bartlett?" Diana asked curiously.
+
+"He'll take care of me, my dear."
+
+"But then, we ought to take care of ourselves," said Diana. "Now if Joe
+would marry somebody"--
+
+"Joe ain't lucky in that line," said the old lady laughing again. "And
+may be what he might like, I mightn't. Before you go to wishin' for
+changes, you'd better know what they'll be. I'm content child. There
+ain't a thing on earth I want that I haven't got. Now what's the news?"
+
+Diana began and told her the whole story of the sewing meeting and the
+accident and the nursing of the injured girl. Mrs. Bartlett had an
+intense interest in every particular; and what Diana failed to
+remember, her questions brought out.
+
+"And how do you like the new minister?"
+
+"Haven't you seen him yet?"
+
+"Nay. He hain't been down my way yet. In good time he will. He's had
+sick folks to see arter, Joe told me; old Jemmy Claflin, and Joe
+Simmons' boy; and Mis' Atwood, and Eliza."
+
+"I think you'll like him," said Diana slowly. "He's not like any
+minister ever _I_ saw."
+
+"What's the odds?"
+
+"It isn't so easy to tell. He don't look like a minister, for one
+thing; nor he don't talk like one; not a bit."
+
+"Have we got a gay parson, then?" said the old lady, slightly raising
+her eyebrows.
+
+"Gay? O no! not in the way you mean. In one way he _is_ gay; he is very
+pleasant; not stiff or grum, like Mr. Hardenburgh; and he is amusing
+too, in a quiet way, but he _is_ amusing; he is so cool and so quick. O
+no, he's not gay in the way you mean. I guess he's good."
+
+"Do you like him?" Mrs. Bartlett asked.
+
+"Yes," said Diana, thinking of the night of Eliza Delamater's accident.
+"He is very queer."
+
+"I don't seem to make him out by your telling, child. I'll have to
+wait, I guess. I've got no sort of an idea of him, so far. Now, dear,
+if you'll set the table--dinner's ready; and then we'll have some
+reading."
+
+Diana drew out a small deal table to the middle of the floor, and set
+on it the delf plates and cups and saucers, the little saltcellar of
+the same ware, and the knives and forks that were never near Sheffield;
+in fact, were never steel. But the lettuce came out of the well crisp
+and fresh and cool; and Mrs. Bartlett's pot-pie crust came out of the
+pot as spongy and light as possible; and the loaf of "seconds" bread
+was sweet as it is hard for bread to be that is not made near the mill;
+and if you and I had been there, I promise you we would not have minded
+the knives and forks, or the cups either. Mrs. Bartlett's tea was not
+of corresponding quality, for it came from a country store. However,
+the cream went far to mend even that. The back door was open for the
+heat; and the hill-side could be seen through the doorway and part of
+the soft green meadow slope; and the grasshopper's song and the bell
+tinkle were not bad music.
+
+"And who was that came with you, dear?" Mrs. Bartlett asked as they sat
+at table.
+
+"With me? Did you see me come?"
+
+"Surely. I was in the garden. What should hinder me? Who was it druv
+you, dear?"
+
+"It was an accident. Young Mr. Knowlton had got into some trouble with
+his horse, riding out our way, and came to ask how he could get home.
+So I brought him."
+
+"That's Evan Knowlton! him they are making a soldier of?"
+
+"He's made. He's done with his education. He is at home now."
+
+"Ain't goin' to be a soldier after all?"
+
+"O yes; he _is_ a soldier; but he has got a leave, to be home for
+awhile."
+
+"Well, what sort is he? I don't see what they wanted to make a soldier
+of him for; his grand'ther would ha' been the better o' his help on the
+farm, seems to me; and now he'll be off to the ends o' the earth, and
+doin' nobody knows what. It's the wisdom o' this world. But how has he
+turned out, Die?"
+
+"I don't know; well, I should think."
+
+"And his sisters at home would ha' been the better of him. By-and-by
+Mr. Bowdoin will die; and then who'll look after the farm, or the
+girls?"
+
+"Still, mother, it's something more and something better to be
+educated, as he is, and to know the world and all sorts of things, as
+he does, than just to live on the farm here in the mountains, and raise
+corn and eat it, and nothing else. Isn't it?"
+
+"Why should it be better, child?"
+
+"It is nice to be educated," said Diana softly. And she thought much
+more than she said.
+
+"A man can get as much edication as he can hold, and live on a farm
+too. I've seen sich. Some folks can't do no better than hoe--corn like
+my Joe. But there ain't no necessity for that. But arter all, what does
+folks live for, Diana?"
+
+"I never could make out, Mother Bartlett."
+
+The old lady looked at her thoughtfully and wistfully, but said no
+more. Diana cleared the table and washed the few dishes; and when all
+was straight again, took out a newspaper she had brought from home, and
+she and the old lady settled themselves for an afternoon of enjoyment.
+For it was that to both parties. At home Diana cared little about the
+paper; here it was quite another thing. Mrs. Bartlett wanted to hear
+all there was in it; public doings, foreign doings, city news, editor's
+gossip; and even the advertisements came in for their share of
+pleasure-giving. New inventions had an interest; tokens of the world's
+movements, or the world's wants, in other notices, were found
+suggestive of thought or provocative of wonder. Sitting with her feet
+put towards the fire, her knitting in her hands, the quick grey eyes
+studied Diana's face as she read, never needing to give their
+supervision to the fingers; and the coarse blue yarn stocking, which
+was doubtless destined for Joe, grew visibly in length while the eyes
+and thoughts of the knitter were busy elsewhere. The newspaper filled
+a good part of the afternoon; for the reading was often interrupted
+for talk which grew out of it. When at last it was done, and Mrs.
+Bartlett's eyes returned to the fire, there were a few minutes of
+stillness; then she said gently,
+
+"Now, our other reading, dear?"
+
+"You like this the best, Mother Bartlett, don't you?" said Diana, as
+she rose and brought from the inner room a large volume; _the_ Book, as
+any one might know at a glance; carefully covered with a sewn cover of
+coarse cloth. "Where shall I read now?"
+
+
+The place indicated was the beginning of the Revelation, a favourite
+book with the old lady. And as she listened, the knitting grew slower;
+though, true to the instinctive habit of doing something, the fingers
+never ceased absolutely their work. But they moved slowly; and the old
+lady's eyes, no longer on the fire, went out of the open window, and
+gazed with a far-away gaze that went surely beyond the visible heaven;
+so wrapt and steady it was. Diana, sitting on a low seat at her feet,
+glanced up sometimes; but seeing that gaze, looked down and went on
+again with her reading and would not break the spell. At last, having
+read several chapters without a word of interruption, she stopped. The
+old lady's eyes came back to her knitting, which began to go a little
+faster.
+
+"Do you like all this so much?" Diana asked. "I know you do; but I
+can't see why you do. You can't understand it."
+
+"I guess I do," said the old lady. "I seem to, anyhow. It's queer if I
+don't."
+
+"But you can't make anything of all those horses?"
+
+"Why, it's just what you've been readin' about all the afternoon."
+
+"In the newspaper!" cried Diana.
+
+"It's many a year that I've been lookin' at it," said the old lady;
+"ever sen I heard it all explained by a good minister. I've been
+lookin' at it ever sen." She spoke dreamily.
+
+"It's all words and words to me," said Diana.
+
+"There's a blessin' belongs to studyin' them words, though. Those
+horses are the works and judgments of the Lord that are goin' on in all
+the earth, to prepare the way of his comin'."
+
+"Whose coming?"
+
+"The Lord's comin'," said the old lady solemnly. "The white horse,
+that's victory; that's goin' on conquering and to conquer; that's the
+truth and power of the Lord bringin' his kingdom. The red horse, that's
+war; ah, how that red horse has tramped round the world! he's left the
+marks of his hoofs on our own ground not long sen; and now you've been
+readin' to me about his goin's on elsewhere. The black horse, that's
+famine; and not downright starvation, the minister said, but just want;
+grindin' and pressin' people down. Ain't there enough o' that in the
+world? not just so bad in Pleasant Valley, but all over. And the pale
+horse--what is it the book calls him?--that's death; and he comes to
+Pleasant Valley as he comes everywhere. They've been goin', those four,
+ever sen the world was a world o' fallen men."
+
+"But what do they do to prepare the way for the Lord's coming?" said
+Diana.
+
+"What do I know? _That_'ll be known when the book shall come to be
+read, I s'pose. I'm waitin'. I'll know by and by"--
+
+"Only I can seem to see so much as this," the old lady went on after a
+pause. "The Lord won't have folk to settle down accordin' to their will
+into a contented forgetfulness o' him; so he won't let there be peace
+till the King o' Peace comes. O, I'd be glad if he'd come!"
+
+"But that will be the end of the world," said Diana.
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Bartlett, "it might be the end of the world for all I
+care; if it would bring Him. What do I live for?"
+
+"You know I don't understand you, Mother Bartlett," said Diana gently.
+
+"Well, what do you live for, child?"
+
+"I don't know," said Diana slowly. "Nothing. I help mother make butter
+and cheese; and I make my clothes, and do the housework. And next year
+it'll be the same thing; and the next year after that. It don't amount
+to anything."
+
+"And do you think the Lord made you--you pretty creatur!"--said the old
+lady, softly passing her hand down the side of Diana's face,--"for
+nothin' better than to make cheese and butter?"
+
+Diana smiled and blushed brightly at her old friend, a lovely child's
+smile.
+
+"I may come to be married, you know, one of these days! But after all,
+_that_ don't make any difference. It's the same thing, married or not
+married. People all do the same things, day after day, till they die."
+
+"If that was all"--said the old lady meditatively, looking into the
+fire and knitting slowly.
+
+"It _is_ all; except that here and there there is somebody who knows
+more and can do something better; I suppose life is something more to
+them. But they are mostly men."
+
+"Edication's a fine thing," Mrs. Bartlett went on in the same manner;
+"but there's two sorts. There's two sorts, Diana. I hain't got
+much,--o' one kind; I never had no chance to get it, so I've done
+without it. And now my life's so near done, it don't seem much matter.
+But there's the other sort, that ain't learned at no 'cademy. The Lord
+put me into _his_ school forty-four years ago--where he puts all his
+children; and if they learn their lessons, he takes 'em up and
+up,--some o' the lessons is hard to learn,--but he takes 'em up and up;
+till life ain't a puzzle no longer, and they begin to know the language
+o' heaven, where his courts be. And that's edication that's worth
+havin',--when one's just goin' there, as I be."
+
+"How do you get into that school, Mother Bartlett?" Diana asked
+thoughtfully, and yet with her mind not all upon what she was saying,
+
+"You are in it, my dear. The good Lord sends his lessons and his
+teachers to every one; but it's no use to most folks; they won't take
+no notice."
+
+"What 'teachers'?" said Diana, smiling.
+
+"There's a host of them," said Mrs. Bartlett; "and of all sorts. Why, I
+seem to be in the midst of 'em, Diana. The sun is a teacher to me every
+day; and the clouds, and the air, and the colours. The hill and the
+pasture ahint the house,--I've learned a heap of lessons from 'em. And
+I'm learnin' 'em all the time, till I seem to be rich with what they're
+tellin' me. So rich, some days I 'most wonder at myself. No doubt, to
+hear all them voices, one must hear the voice o' the Word. And then
+there's many other voices; but they don't come just so to all. I could
+tell you some o' mine; but the ones that'll come to you'll be sure to
+be different; so you couldn't learn from _them_, child. And folks
+thinks I'm a lonesome old woman!"
+
+"Well, how can they help it?" said Diana.
+
+"It's nat'ral," said Mrs. Bartlett.
+
+"I can't help your seeming so to me."
+
+"That _ain't_ nat'ral, for you had ought to know better. They think,
+folks does,--I know,--I'm a poor lone old woman, just going to die."
+
+"But isn't that nearly true?" said Diana gently.
+
+There was a slight glad smile on the withered lips as Mrs. Bartlett
+turned towards her.
+
+"You have the book there on your lap, dear. Just find the eleventh
+chapter of the Gospel of John, and read the twenty-fifth and
+twenty-sixth verses. And when you feel inclined to think that o' me
+agin, just wait till you know what they mean."
+
+Diana found and read:--
+
+"'Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection and the life: he that
+believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live. And whoesoever
+liveth and believeth in me, shall never die.'"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+
+MAKING HAY.
+
+
+
+June had changed for July; but no heats ever withered the green of the
+Pleasant Valley hills, nor browned its pastures; and no droughts ever
+stopped the tinkling of its rills and brooks, which rolled down, every
+one of them, over gravelly pebbly beds to lose themselves in lake or
+river. Sun enough to cure the hay and ripen the grain, they had; and
+July was sweet with the perfume of hayfield, and lovely with brown
+hayricks, and musical with the whetting of scythes. Mrs. Starling's
+little farm had a good deal of grass land; and the haying was
+proportionally a busy season. For haymakers, according to the general
+tradition of the country, in common with reapers, are expected to eat
+more than ordinary men, or men in ordinary employments; and to furnish
+the meals for the day kept both Mrs. Starling and her daughter busy.
+
+It was mid-afternoon, sunny, perfumed, still; the afternoon luncheon
+had gone out to the men, who were cutting then in the meadow which
+surrounded the house. Diana found her hands free; and had gone up to
+her room, not to rest, for she was not tired, but to get out of the
+atmosphere of the kitchen and breathe a few minutes without thinking of
+cheese and gingerbread. She had begun to change her dress; but leisure
+wooed her, and she took up a book and presently forgot even that care
+in the delight of getting into a region of _thought_. For Diana's book
+was not a novel; few such found their way to Pleasant Valley, and
+seldom one to Mrs. Starling's house. Her father's library was quite
+unexhausted still, its volumes took so long to read and needed so much
+thinking over; and now she was deep in a treatise more solid and less
+attractive than most young women are willing to read. It carried her
+out of the round of daily duties and took her away from Pleasant Valley
+altogether, and so was a great refreshment. Besides, Diana liked
+thinking.
+
+Once or twice a creak of a farm waggon was heard along the road; it was
+too well known a sound to awake her attention; then came a sound far
+less common--the sharp trot of a horse moving without wheels behind
+him. Diana started instantly and went to a window that commanded the
+road. The sound ceased, but she saw why; the rider had reined in his
+steed and was walking slowly past; the same rider she had expected to
+see, with the dark uniform and the soldier's cap. He looked hard at
+the place; could he be stopping? The next moment Diana had flown back
+to her own room, had dropped the dress which was half off, and was
+arraying herself in a fresh print; and she was down-stairs almost as
+soon as the visitor knocked. Diana opened the door. She knew Mrs.
+Starling was deep in supper preparations, mingled with provisions for
+the next day's lunches.
+
+Uniforms have a great effect, to eyes unaccustomed to them. How Lieut.
+Knowlton came to be wearing his uniform in the country, so far away
+from any post, I don't know; perhaps he did. He _said_, that he had
+nothing else he liked for riding in. But a blue frock, with gold bars
+across the shoulders and military buttons, is more graceful than a
+frieze coat. And it was a gracious, graceful head that was bared at the
+sight of the door-opener.
+
+"You see," he said with a smile, "I couldn't go by! The other day I was
+your pensioner, in kindness. Now I want to come in my own character, if
+you'll let me."
+
+"Is it different from the character I saw the other day?" said Diana,
+as she led the way into the parlour.
+
+"You did not see my character the other day, did you?"
+
+"I saw what you showed me!"
+
+He laughed, and then laughed again; looking a little surprised, a good
+deal amused.
+
+"I would give a great deal to know what you thought of me."
+
+"Why would you?" Diana said, quite quietly.
+
+"That I might correct your mistakes, of course."
+
+"Suppose I made any mistakes," said Diana, "you could only tell me that
+you thought differently. I don't see that I should be much wiser."
+
+"I find I made a mistake about you!" he said, laughing again, but
+shaking his head. "But every person is like a new language to those
+that see him for the first time; don't you think so? One has to learn
+the signs of the language by degrees, before one can read it off like a
+book."
+
+"I never thought about that," said Diana. "No; I think that is true of
+_some_ people; not everybody. All the Pleasant Valley people seem to me
+to belong to one language. All except one, perhaps."
+
+"Who is the exception?" Mr. Knowlton asked quickly.
+
+"I don't know whether you know him."
+
+"O, I know everybody here--or I used to."
+
+"I was thinking of somebody who didn't use to be here. He has only just
+come. I mean Mr. Masters."
+
+"The parson?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I don't know him much. I suppose he belongs to the _parson_ language,
+to carry on our figure. They all do."
+
+"He don't," said Diana. "That is what struck me in him. What are the
+signs of the 'parson' language?"
+
+"A black coat and a white neckcloth, to begin with."
+
+"He dresses in grey," said Diana laughing, "or in white; and wears any
+sort of a cravat."
+
+"To go on,--Generally a grave face and a manner of great propriety;
+with a square way of arranging words."
+
+"Mr. Masters has no manner at all; and he is one of the most
+entertaining people I ever knew."
+
+"Jolly sort, eh?"
+
+"No, I think not," said Diana; "I don't know exactly what you mean by
+jolly; he is never silly, and he does not laugh much particularly; but
+he can make other people laugh."
+
+"Well, another sign is, they put a religious varnish over common
+things. Do you recognise that?"
+
+"I recognise that, for I have seen it; but it isn't true of Mr.
+Masters."
+
+"I give him up," said young Knowlton. "I am sure I shouldn't like him."
+
+"Why, do you _like_ these common signs of the 'parson language,' as you
+call it, that you have been reckoning?"
+
+The answer was a decided negative accompanied with a laugh again; and
+then Diana's visitor turned the conversation to the country, and the
+place, and the elm trees; looked out of the window and observed that
+the haymakers were at work near the house, and finally said he must go
+out to look at them nearer--he had not made hay since he was a boy.
+
+He went out, and Diana went back to her mother in the lean-to.
+
+"Mother, young Mr. Knowlton is here."
+
+"Well, keep him out o' _my_ way; that's all I ask."
+
+"Haven't you got through yet?"
+
+"Through! There was but one single pan of ginger-bread left this noon;
+and there ain't more'n three loaves o' bread in the pantry. What's that
+among a tribe o' such grampuses? I've got to make biscuits for tea, Di;
+and I may as well get the pie-crust off my hands at the same time;
+it'll be so much done for to-morrow. I wish you'd pick over the
+berries. And then I'll find you something else to do. If I had six
+hands and two heads, I guess I could about get along."
+
+"But, mother, it won't do for nobody to be in the parlour."
+
+"I thought he was gone?"
+
+"Only gone out into the field to see the haymakers."
+
+"Queer company!" said Mrs. Starling, leaving her bowl of dough, with
+flowery hands, to peer out of a window. "You may make your mind easy,
+Di; he won't come in again. I declare! he's got his coat off and he's
+gone at it himself; ain't that him?"
+
+Diana looked and allowed that it was. Mr. Knowlton had got a rake in
+hand, his coat hung on the fence, and he was raking hay as busily as
+the best of them. Diana gave a little sigh, and turned to her pan of
+berries. This young officer was a new language to her, and she would
+have liked, she thought, to spell out a little more of its graceful
+peculiarities. The berries took a good while. Meantime Mrs. Starling's
+biscuit went into the oven, and a sweet smell began to come thereout.
+Mrs. Starling bustled about setting the table; with cold pork and
+pickles, and cheese and berry pie, and piles of bread brown and white.
+Clearly the haymakers were expected to supper.
+
+"Mother," said Diana doubtfully, when she had washed her hands from the
+berry stains, "will you bring Mr. Knowlton out _here_ to tea, if he
+should possibly stay?"
+
+"He's gone, child, this age."
+
+"No, he isn't."
+
+"He ain't out yonder any more."
+
+"But his horse stands by the fence under the elm."
+
+"I wish he was farther, then! Yes, of course he'll come here, if he
+takes supper with _me_ to-night. I don't think he will. I don't know
+him, and I don't know as I want to."
+
+But this vaguely expressed hope was disappointed. The young officer
+came in, a little while before supper; laughingly asked Diana for some
+water to wash his hands; and followed her out to the lean-to. There he
+was introduced to Mrs. Starling, and informed her he had been doing her
+work, begging to know if that did not entitle him to some supper. I
+think Mrs. Starling was a little sorry then that she had not made
+preparations to receive him more elegantly; but it was too late now;
+she only rushed a little nervously to fetch him a finer white towel
+than those which usually did kitchen duty for herself and Diana; and
+then the biscuits were baked, and the farm hands came streaming in.
+
+There were several of them, now in haying time, headed by Josiah Davis,
+Mrs. Starling's ordinary stand-by. Heavy and clumsy, warm from the
+hay-field, a little awkward at sight of the company, they filed in and
+dropped into their several seats round one end of the table; and Mrs.
+Starling could only play all her hospitable arts around her guest, to
+make him forget if possible his unwonted companions. She served him
+assiduously with the best she had on the table; she would not bring on
+any dainties extra; and the young officer took kindly even to the pork
+and pickles, and declared the brown bread was worth working for; and
+when Mrs. Starling let fall a word of regretful apology, assured her
+that in the times when he was a cadet he would have risked getting a
+good many marks for the sake of such a meal.
+
+"What are the marks for?" inquired Mrs. Starling curiously.
+
+"Bad boys," he told her; and then went off to a discussion of her hay
+crop, and a dissertation on the delights of making hay and the pleasure
+he had had from it that afternoon; "something he did not very often
+enjoy."
+
+"Can't you make hay anywheres?" Mrs. Starling asked a little dryly.
+
+He gravely assured her it would not be considered military.
+
+"I don't know what military means," said Mrs. Starling. "_You_ are
+military, ain't you?"
+
+"Mean to be," he answered seriously.
+
+"Well, you are. Then, I should think, whatever you do would be
+military."
+
+But at this giving of judgment, after a minute of, perhaps, endeavour
+for self-control, Mr. Knowlton broke down and laughed furiously. Mrs.
+Starling looked stern. Diana was in a state of indecision, whether to
+laugh with her friend or frown with her mother; but the infection of
+fun was too much for her--the pretty lips gave way. Maybe that was
+encouragement for the offender; for he did not show any embarrassment
+or express any contrition.
+
+"You do me too much honour," he said as soon as he could make his voice
+steady; "you do me too much honour, Mrs. Starling. I assure you, I have
+been most unmilitary this afternoon; but really I am no better than a
+boy when the temptation takes me; and the temptation of your meadow and
+those long windrows was too much for me. I enjoyed it hugely. I am
+coming again, may I?"
+
+"You'll have to be quick about it, then," said Mrs Starling, not much
+mollified; "there ain't much more haying to do on the home lot, I
+guess. Ain't you 'most done, Josiah?"
+
+"How?" said that worthy from the other end of the table. Mrs. Starling
+had raised her voice, but Josiah's wits always wanted a knock at the
+door before they would come forth to action.
+
+"Hain't you 'most got through haying?"
+
+"Not nigh."
+
+"Why, what's to do?" inquired the mistress, with a new interest.
+
+"There's all this here lot to finish, and all of Savin hill."
+
+"Savin hill ain't but half in grass."
+
+"Jes' so. There ain't a lock of it cut, though."
+
+"If I was a man," said Mrs. Starling, "I believe I could get the better
+o' twenty acres o' hay in less time than you take for it. However, I
+ain't. Mr. Knowlton, do take one o' those cucumbers. I think there
+ain't a green pickle equal to a cucumber--when it's tender and sharp,
+as it had ought to be."
+
+"I am sure everything under your hands is as it ought to be," said the
+young officer, taking the cucumber. "I know these are. Your haymakers
+have a good time," he added as the men rose, and there was a heavy
+clangour of boots and grating chairs at the lower end of the table.
+
+"They calculate to have it," said Mrs. Starling. "And all through
+Pleasant Valley they do have it. There are no poor folks in the place;
+and there ain't many that calls themselves rich; they all expect to be
+comfortable; and I guess most of 'em be."
+
+"Just the state of society in which-- There's a sweet little stream
+running through your meadow, Miss Diana," said the young officer with a
+sudden change of subject. "Where does it go to?"
+
+"It makes a great many turns, through different farms, and then joins
+your river--the Yellow River--that runs round Elmfield."
+
+"That's a river; this brook is just what I like. I got tired with my
+labours this afternoon, and then I threw myself down by the side of the
+water to look at it. I lay there till I had almost forgotten what I was
+about."
+
+"Not in your shirt sleeves, just as you was?" inquired Mrs. Starling.
+The inquiry drew another laugh from her guest; and he then asked Diana
+where the brook came from. If it was pretty, followed up?
+
+"Very pretty!" Diana said. "As soon as you get among the hills and in
+the woods with it, it is as pretty as it can be; not a bit like what it
+is here; full of rocks and pools and waterfalls; lovely!"
+
+"Any fish?"
+
+"Beautiful trout."
+
+"Miss Diana, can you fish?"
+
+"No. I never tried."
+
+"Well, trout fishing is not exactly a thing that comes by nature. I
+must go up that brook. I wish you would go and show me the way. When I
+see anything pretty, I always want some one to point it out to, or I
+can't half enjoy it."
+
+"I think it would be the other way," said Diana. "I should be the one
+to show the brook to you."
+
+"You see if I don't make you find more pretty things than you ever knew
+were there. Come! is it a bargain? I'll take my line and bring Mrs.
+Starling some trout."
+
+"When?" said Diana.
+
+"Seems to me," said Mrs. Starling, "I could keep along a brook if I
+could once get hold of it."
+
+"Ah," said Mr. Knowlton, laughing, "you are a great deal cleverer than
+I am. You have no idea how fast I can lose myself. Miss Diana, the
+sooner the better, while this lovely weather lasts. Shall we say
+to-morrow?"
+
+"I'll be ready," said Diana.
+
+"This weather ain't goin' to change in a hurry," remarked Mrs. Starling.
+
+But the remark did not seem to be to the purpose. The appointment was
+made for the following day at three o'clock; and Mr. Knowlton's visit
+having come to an end, he mounted and galloped away.
+
+"Three o'clock!" said Mrs. Starling. "Just the heat o' the day. And
+trout, indeed! Don't you be a silly fish yourself, Diana."
+
+"Mother!" said Diana. "I couldn't help going, when he asked me."
+
+"You could ha' helped it if you'd wanted to, I s'pose."
+
+Which was no doubt true, and Diana made no response; for she wanted to
+go. She watched the golden promise of dawn the next morning; she
+watched the cloudless vault of the sky, and secretly rejoiced within
+herself that she would be ready.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+
+MR. KNOWLTON'S FISH.
+
+
+
+Doubtless they were ready, those two, for the brook and the afternoon.
+The young officer came at half-past three; not in regimentals this
+time, but in an easy grey undress and straw hat. He came in a waggon,
+and he brought his fishing-rod and carried a basket. Diana had been
+ready ever since three. They lost no time; they went out into the
+meadow and struck the brook.
+
+Now the brook, during its passage through the valley field, was
+remarkable for nothing but a rare infirmity of purpose, which would
+never let it keep one course for many rods together. It twisted and
+curled about, making many little meadow promontories on one side and
+the other; hurrying along with a soft, sweet gurgle that sounded fresh,
+even under the heat of the summer sun. It was a hot afternoon, as Mrs.
+Starling had said; and the two excursionists were fain to take it
+gently and to make as straight a course across the fields as keeping on
+one side of the brook left possible. They could not cross it. The
+stream was not large, yet quite too broad for a jump; and not deep, yet
+deep enough to cover its stony bed and leave no crossing stones. So
+sometimes along the border of the brook, where a fringe of long grass
+had been left by the mowers' scythes, rank and tangled; sometimes
+striking across from bend to bend over the meadow, where no kindly
+trees stood to shade them, the two went--on a hunt, as Mr. Knowlton
+said, after pretty things.
+
+After a mile or more of this walking, the scenery changed. Mown fields,
+hot and fragrant, were left behind; almost suddenly they entered the
+hills, where the brook issued from them; and then they began a slower
+tracking of its course back among the rocks and woods of a dell which
+soon grew close and wild. The sides of the dell became higher; the bed
+of the stream more steep and rough; the canopy of trees closed in
+overhead, and showed the blue through only in broken patches. The
+clothing of the hill-sides was elegant and exquisite; oaks, and firs,
+and hemlocks, with slender birches and maples, lining the ravine; and
+under them a free growth of ferns, and fresh beds of moss, and lovely
+lichens covered the rocks and dressed the ground. The stream rattled
+along at the bottom; foaming over the stones and leaping down the
+rocks; making the still, deep pools where the fish love to lie; and in
+its way executing a succession of cascades and tiny waterfalls that
+wanted no picturesque element except magnitude. And a good imagination
+can supply that.
+
+And how went the afternoon? How goes it with those who have just
+received a new sense, or found a sudden doubling of that which they had
+before? Nay, it was a new sense, a new power of perception, able to
+discern what had eluded all their previous lives. The brook in the
+meadow had been to Diana's vision until now merely running water;
+whence had come those delicious amber hues where it rolled over the
+stones, and the deep olive shadows where the water was deeper? She had
+never seen them before. Now they were pointed out and seen to be rich
+and clear, a sort of dilution of sunlight, with a suggestion of
+sunlight's other riches of possibility. The rank unmown grass that
+fringed the stream, Diana had never seen it but as what the scythe had
+missed; now she was made to notice what an elegant fringe it was, and
+how the same sunlight glanced upon its curving stems and blades, and
+set off the deep brown stream. Diana's own eyes began to be quickened,
+and her tongue loosed. The lovely outline of the hills that encircled
+the valley had never looked just so rare and lovely as this afternoon
+when she pointed them out to her companion, and he scanned them and
+nodded in full assent. But when they got into the ravine, it was
+Diana's turn. Mosses, and old trees, and sharp turns of the gorge, and
+fords, where it was necessary to cross the brook and recross on
+stepping stones just lifting them above the water, here black
+enough,--Diana knew all these things, and with secret delight unfolded
+the knowledge of them to her companion as they went along. And still
+the bits of blue sky overhead had never seemed so unearthly blue; the
+drapery of oak and hemlock boughs had never been so graceful and
+bright; there was a presence in the old gorge that afternoon, which
+went with them and cleared their eyes from vapour and their minds from
+everything, it seemed, but a susceptibility to beauty and delight in
+its influence. Perhaps the young officer would have said that this
+presence was embodied in the unconscious eyes and fair calm brow which
+went beside him; I think he saw them more distinctly than anything
+else. Diana did not know it. Somehow she very rarely looked her
+companion in the face; and yet she knew very well how his face looked,
+too; so well, perhaps, that she did not need to refresh her memory. So
+they wandered on; and the fords were pleasant places, where she had to
+be helped over the stones. Not that Diana needed such help; her foot
+was fearless and true; she never had had help there before: was that
+what made it so pleasant? Certainly it did seem to her that it was a
+prettier way of going up the brook than alone and unaided.
+
+"I am not getting much fish at this rate," said young Knowlton at
+length with a light laugh.
+
+"No," said Diana. "Why don't you stop and try here? Here looks like a
+good place. Right in that still, deep spot, I dare say there are trout.
+
+"What will you do in the meantime, if I stop and fish? It will be very
+stupid for you."
+
+"For me? O no. I shall sit here and look on. It will not be stupid. I
+will keep still, never fear."
+
+"I don't want you to keep still; that would be very stupid for me."
+
+"You can't talk while you are fishing; it would scare the trout, you
+know."
+
+"I don't believe it."
+
+"I have always heard so."
+
+"I don't believe it will pay," said Knowlton as he fitted his rod--"if
+I am to purchase trout at the expense of all that."
+
+All what? Diana wondered.
+
+"Suppose we talk very softly--in whispers," he went on, laughing. "Do
+you suppose the trout are so observant as to mind it? If you sit
+here,--on this mossy stone, close by me, can't I enjoy two things at
+once?"
+
+Diana made no objection to this arrangement. She took the place
+indicated, full of a breathless kind of pleasure which she did not stop
+to analyze; and watched in silence the progress of the fishing. In
+silence, for after Mr. Knowlton's arrangement had been carried into
+effect, he too subsided into stillness; whether engrossed with the
+business of his line, or satisfied, or with thoughts otherwise engaged,
+did not appear. But as presently and again a large trout, speckled and
+beautiful, was swung up out of the pool below, the two faces were
+turned towards each other, and the two pairs of eyes met with a smile
+of so much sympathy, that I rather think the temporary absence of words
+lost nothing to the growth of the understanding between them.
+
+The place where they sat was lovely. Just there the bank was high,
+overhanging the brook. A projecting rock, brown and green and grey,
+with lichen and mosses of various kinds, held besides a delicate young
+silver birch, the roots of which found their way to nourishment somehow
+through fissures in the rock. Here sat Knowlton, with Diana beside him
+on a stone, just a little behind; while he sat on the brink to cast, or
+rather drop, his line into the little pool below where the trout were
+lurking. The opposite side of the stream was but a few yards off, thick
+with a lovely growth of young wood, with one great hemlock not far
+above towering up towards the sky. The view in that direction went up a
+vista of the ravine, so wood-fringed on both sides, with the stream
+leaping and tumbling down a steep rocky bed. Overhead the narrow line
+of blue sky.
+
+"Four!" whispered Diana, as another spotted trout came up from the pool.
+
+"I wonder how many there are down there?" said Knowlton as he unhooked
+the fish. "It makes me hungry."
+
+"Catching the trout?" said Diana softly.
+
+He nodded. "Here comes another. I wish we could make a fire somewhere
+hereabouts and cook them."
+
+"Is that a good way?"
+
+"The best in the world," he said, adjusting his fly, and then looking
+with a smile at her. "There is no way that fish taste so good. I used
+to do that, you see, in the hills round about the Academy; and I know
+all about it."
+
+"We could make a fire," said Diana; "but we have no gridiron here."
+
+"I had no gridiron there. Couldn't have carried a gridiron in my pocket
+if I had had one. Here's another"--
+
+"You had not a gridiron, of course."
+
+"Nor a pocket either."
+
+"But did you eat the trout all alone? without bread, I mean, or
+anything?"
+
+"No; we took bread and salt, and pepper and butter, and a few such
+things. There were generally a lot of us; or if only two or three we
+could manage that. The butter was the worst thing to accomplish--Here's
+another!"
+
+"Such beauties!" said Diana. "Well, Mr. Knowlton, if you get _too_
+hungry, we'll cook you one at home, you know."
+
+"Will you?" said he. "I wish we had salt and bread here! I should like
+to show you how wood cookery goes, though. But I'll tell you! we'll get
+Mrs. Starling to let us have it out in the meadow--that won't be bad."
+
+Diana thought of her mother's utter astonishment and disapprobation at
+such a proposal; and there was silence again for a few minutes, while
+the line hung motionless over the pool, and Diana's eyes watched it
+movelessly, and the liquid sweetness of the water's talk with the
+stones was heard,--as one hears things when the senses are strung to
+double keenness. Diana heard it, at least, and listened to something in
+it she had never perceived before; something not only sweet and liquid
+and musical, but in some odd sense admonitory. What did it say? Diana
+hardly questioned, but yet she heard,--"My peace never changes. My song
+never dies. Listen, or not listen, it is all the same. You may be in
+twenty moods in a year. In my depth of content I flow on for ever."
+
+
+A slight rustling of leaves, a slight crackling of stems or branches,
+brought the eyes of both watchers in another direction; and before they
+could hear a footfall, they saw, above them on the course of the brook,
+a figure of a man coming towards them, and Diana knew it was the
+minister. Swiftly and lightly he came swinging himself along, bounding
+over obstacles, with a sure foot and a strong hand; till presently he
+stood beside them. Just then Mr. Knowlton's line was swung up with
+another trout. Diana introduced the gentlemen to each other.
+
+"Fishing?" said the minister.
+
+"We have got all there are in this place, I'm thinking," said Knowlton,
+shutting up his rod.
+
+"You _had_ not, two minutes ago," said the other. "What do you judge
+from? It doesn't do to be so easily discouraged as that."
+
+"Discouraged?" said Knowlton. "Not exactly. Let us see. Four, five,
+six--seven--eight. Eight, out of this little one pool, Mr. Masters. Do
+you think there are any more?"
+
+"I always get all I can out of a thing," said the minister. And his
+very cheery tone, as well as his very quiet manner, seemed to say he
+was in the habit of getting a good deal out of everything.
+
+"I don't know about that," answered the young officer in another tone.
+"Doesn't always pay. To stay too long at one pool of a brook, for
+instance. The brook has other pools, I suppose."
+
+"I suppose it has," said the minister, with a manner which would have
+puzzled any but one that knew him, to tell whether he were in jest or
+earnest. "I suppose it has. But you may not find them. Or by the time
+you do, you may have lost your bait. Or you may be tired of fishing. Or
+it may be time to go home."
+
+"I am never tired," said Knowlton, springing up; "and I have got a
+guide that will not let me miss my way."
+
+"You are fortunate," said the other. "And I will not occupy your time.
+Good afternoon! I shall hope to see more of you."
+
+With a warm grasp of the young officer's hand, and lifting his hat to
+Diana, the minister went on his way. Diana looked after him, wondering
+why he had not shaken hands with her too. It was something she was a
+little sorry to miss.
+
+"Who is that?" Knowlton asked.
+
+"Mr. Masters? He's our minister."
+
+"What sort of a chap is he? Not like all the rest of them?"
+
+"How are all the rest of them?" Diana asked.
+
+"I declare, I don't know!" said Knowlton. "If I was to tell the truth,
+I should say they puzzle all my wits. See 'em in one place--and hear
+'em--and you would say they thought all the business of this world was
+of no account, nor the pleasure of it either. See 'em anywhere else,
+and they are just as much of this world as you are--or as I am, I mean.
+They change as fast as a chameleon. In the light that comes through a
+church window, now, they'll be blue enough, and make you think blue's
+the only wear--or black; but once outside, and they like the colour
+that comes through a glass of wine or anything also that's jolly. One
+thing or the other they don't mean--that's plain."
+
+"Which do you think they don't mean?" said Diana.
+
+"Well, they're two or three hours in church, and the rest of the week
+outside. I believe what they say the rest of the time."
+
+"I don't think Mr. Masters is like that."
+
+"What _is_ he like, then?"
+
+"I think he means exactly what he says."
+
+"Exactly," said the young officer, laughing; "but which part of the
+time, you know?"
+
+"All times. I think he means just the same thing always."
+
+"Must see more of him," said Knowlton. "You like him, then, Miss
+Starling?"
+
+Diana did like him, and it was quite her way to say what she thought;
+yet she did not say it. She had an undefined, shadowy impression that
+the hearing would not be grateful to her companion. Her reply was a
+very inconclusive remark, that she had not seen much of Mr. Masters;
+and an inquiry where Mr. Knowlton meant to fish next.
+
+So the brook had them without interruption the rest of the time. They
+crept up the ravine, under the hemlock branches and oak boughs; picking
+their way along the rocky banks; catching one or two more trout, and
+finding an unending supply of things to talk about; while the air grew
+more delicious as the day dipped towards evening, and the light flashed
+from the upper tree-tops more clear and sparkling as the rays came more
+slant; and the brook's running commentary on what was going on, like so
+many other commentaries, was heard and not heeded; until the shadows
+deepening in the dell warned them it was time to seek the lower grounds
+and open fields again. Which they did, much more swiftly than the
+ascent of the brook had been made; in great spirits on both sides,
+though with a thought on Diana's part how her mother would receive the
+fish and the young officer's proposition. Mrs. Starling was standing at
+the back door of the kitchen as they came up to it.
+
+"I should think, Diana, you knew enough to remember that we don't take
+visitors in at this end of the house," was her opening remark.
+
+"How about fish?" inquired Mr. Knowlton, bringing forward his basket.
+
+"What are you going to do with 'em?" asked Mrs. Starling, standing in
+the door as if she meant he should not come in.
+
+"We are going to eat them--with your leave ma'am, and by your
+help;--and first we are going to cook them."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Miss Starling and myself. I have promised to show her a thing. May I
+ask for the loan of a match?"
+
+"A match!" echoed Mrs. Starling.
+
+"Or two," added Mr. Knowlton, with an indescribable twinkle in his eye;
+indescribable because there was nothing contrary to good breeding in
+it. All the more, Diana felt the sense of fun it expressed, and
+hastened to change the scene and put an end to the colloquy. She threw
+down her bonnet and went for a handful of sticks. Mr. Knowlton had got
+his match by this time. Mrs. Starling stood astonished and scornful.
+
+"Will this be wood enough?" Diana asked.
+
+Mr. Knowlton replied by taking the sticks out of her hand, and led the
+way into the meadow. Diana followed, very quiet and flushed. He had not
+said a word; yet the manner of that little action had a whole small
+volume in it. "Nobody else ever cared whether I had sticks in my hands
+or not," thought Diana; and she flushed more and more. She turned her
+face away from the bright west, which threw too much illumination on
+it; and looked down into the brook. The brook's song sounded now
+unheard.
+
+It was on the border of the brook that Lieut. Knowlton made his fire.
+He was in a very jubilant sort of mood. The fire was made, and the fish
+were washed; and Diana stood by the column of smoke in the meadow and
+looked on, as still as a mouse. And Mrs. Starling stood in the door of
+the lean-to and looked on too, from a distance; and if she was still,
+it was because she had no one near just then to whom it was safe to
+open her mind. The beauty of the picture was all lost upon her: the
+shorn meadow, the soft column of ascending smoke coloured in dainty
+hues from the glowing western sky, the two figures moving about it.
+
+"Now, Miss Diana," said the young officer. "If we had a little salt,
+and a dish--I am afraid to go and ask Mrs. Starling for them!"
+
+Perhaps so was she; but Diana went, and got them without asking. She
+smiled at the dishing of the trout, it was so cleverly done; then she
+was requested to sprinkle salt on them herself; and then with a
+satisfied air, which somehow called up a flush in Diana's cheeks again,
+Mr. Knowlton marched off to the house with the dish in his hands. Mrs.
+Starling had given her farm labourers their supper, and was clearing
+away relics from the board. She made no move of welcome or hospitable
+invitation; but Diana hastened to remove the traces of disorder, and
+set clean plates and cups, and bring fresh butter, and bread, and make
+fresh tea. How very pleasant, and how extremely unpleasant, it was
+altogether!
+
+"Mother," she said, when all was ready, "won't you come and taste Mr.
+Knowlton's fish?"
+
+"I guess I know how fish taste. I haven't eaten the trout of that brook
+all my life, without."
+
+"But you don't know my cookery," said Mr. Knowlton; "_that's_ something
+new."
+
+"I don't see the sense of doing things in an outlandish way, when you
+have no need to. Nor I don't see why men should cook, as long as
+there's women about."
+
+"What _is_ outlandish?" inquired Mr. Knowlton.
+
+"What you've been doing, I should say."
+
+"Come and try my cookery, Mrs. Starling; you will never say anything
+against men in that capacity again."
+
+"I never say anything against men anyhow; only against men cooking; and
+that ain't natural."
+
+"It comes quite natural to me," said the young officer. "Only taste my
+trout, Mrs. Starling, and you will be quite reconciled to me again."
+
+"I ain't quarrelling with nobody--fur's I know," said Mrs. Starling;
+"but I've had my supper."
+
+"Well, we haven't had ours," said the young man; and he set himself not
+only to supply that deficiency in his own case, but to secure that
+Diana should enjoy and eat hers in spite of all hindrances. He saw that
+she was wofully annoyed by her mother's manner; it brought out his own
+more in contrast than perhaps otherwise would have been. He helped her,
+he coaxed her, he praised the trout, and the tea, and the bread, and
+the butter; he peppered and salted anew, when he thought it necessary,
+on her own plate; and he talked and told stories, and laughed and made
+her laugh, till even Mrs. Starling, moving about in the pantry, moved
+softly and set down the dishes carefully, that she too might hear.
+Diana sometimes knew that she did so; at other times was fain to forget
+everything but the glamour of the moment. Trout were disposed of at
+last, however, and the remainder was cold; bread and butter had done
+its duty; and Mr. Knowlton rose from table. His adieux were gay--quite
+unaffected by Mrs. Starling's determined holding aloof; and
+involuntarily Diana stood by the table where she could look out of the
+window, till she had seen him mount into his waggon and go off.
+
+"Have you got through?" said Mrs. Starling.
+
+"Supper?" said Diana, starting. "Yes, mother."
+
+"Then perhaps I can have a chance now. Do you think there is anything
+in the world to do? or is it all done up, in the world you have got
+into?"
+
+Diana began clearing away the relics of the trout supper, in silence
+and with all haste.
+
+"That ain't all," said Mrs. Starling. "The house don't stand still for
+nobody, nor the world, nor things generally. The sponge has got to be
+set for the bread; and there's the beans, Diana; to-morrow's the day
+for the beans; and they ain't looked over yet, nor put in soak. And
+you'd better get out some codfish and put that on the stove. I don't
+know what to have for breakfast if I don't have that. You'd best go and
+get off your dress, first thing; that's my counsel to ye; and save
+washing _that_ to-morrow."
+
+Diana went into no reasoning, on that subject or any other; but she
+managed to do all that was demanded of her without changing her dress,
+and yet without damaging its fresh neatness. In silence, and in an
+uncomfortable mute antagonism which each one felt in every movement of
+the other. Odd it is, that when words for any reason are restrained,
+the feeling supposed to be kept back manifests itself in the turn of
+the shoulders and the set of the head, in the putting down of the foot
+or the raising of the hand, nay, in the harmless movements of pans and
+kettles. The work was done, however, punctually, as always in that
+house; though Diana's feeling of mingled resentment and shame grew as
+the evening wore on. She was glad when the last pan was lifted for the
+last time, the key turned in the lock of the door of the lean-to, and
+she and her mother moved into the other part of the house, preparatory
+to seeking their several rooms. But Mrs. Starling had not done her work
+yet.
+
+"When's that young man comin' again?" she asked abruptly at the foot of
+the stairs, stopping to trim the wick of her candle, and looking into
+the light without winking.
+
+"I don't know--" Diana faltered. "I don't know that he is ever coming
+again."
+
+"Don't expect him either, don't you?"
+
+"I think it would be odd if he didn't," said Diana bravely, after a
+moment's hesitation.
+
+"Odd! why?"
+
+Diana hesitated longer this time, and the words did not come for her
+waiting.
+
+"Why odd?" repeated Mrs. Starling sharply.
+
+"When people seem to like a place--they are apt to come again," said
+Diana, flushing a little.
+
+"_Seem to_," said Mrs. Starling. "Now, Diana, I have just this one
+thing to say. Don't you go and give that young fellow no encouragement."
+
+"Encouragement, mother!" repeated Diana.
+
+"Yes, encouragement. Don't you give him any. Mind my words. 'Cause, if
+you do, I won't!"
+
+"But, mother!" said Diana, "what is there to encourage? I could not
+help going to show the brook to him to-day."
+
+"You couldn't?" said Mrs. Starling, beginning to mount the stairs.
+"Well, it is good to practise. Suppose'n he asked you to let him show
+you the Mississippi--or the Pacific Ocean; couldn't you help that?"
+
+"Mother, I am ashamed!" said poor Diana. "Just think. He is educated,
+and has every advantage, and is an officer in the United States army
+now; and what am I?"
+
+"Worth three dozen of him," said Mrs. Starling decidedly.
+
+"He wouldn't think so, mother, nor anybody else but you."
+
+"Well, _I_ think so, mind, and that's enough. I ain't a goin' to give
+you to him, not if he was fifty officers in the United States army. So
+keep my words, Diana, and mind what I say. I never will give you to
+him, nor to any other man that calls himself a soldier and looks down
+upon folks that are better than he is. I won't let you marry him; so
+don't you go and tell him you will."
+
+"He won't ask me, mother. You make me ashamed!" said Diana, with her
+cheeks burning; "but I am sure he does not look down upon me."
+
+"Nobody shall marry you that sets himself up above me," said Mrs.
+Starling as she closed her door. "Mind!"
+
+And Diana went into her own room, and shut her door, and sat down to
+breathe. "Suppose he should ask you to let him show you the
+Mississippi, or the Pacific?" And the hot flush rushed over her and she
+hid her face, as if even from herself. "He will not. But what if he
+should?" Mrs. Starling had raised the question. Diana, in very maidenly
+shame, tried to beat it down and stamp the life out of it. But that was
+more than she could do.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+
+BELLES AND BLACKBERRIES.
+
+
+
+In the first flush of Diana's distress that night, it had seemed to her
+that the sight of Lieut. Knowlton in all time to come could but give
+her additional distress. How could she look at him? But the clear
+morning light found her nerves quiet again, and her cheeks cool; and a
+certain sweet self-respect, in which she held herself always, forbade
+any such flutter of vanity or stir even of fancy as could in any wise
+ruffle the simple dignity of this country girl's manner. She had no
+careful mother's training, or father's watch and safeguard; the
+artificial rules of propriety were still less known to her; but innate
+purity and modesty, and, as I said, the poise of a true New England
+self-respect, stood her in better stead. When Diana saw Mr. Knowlton
+the next time, she was conscious of no discomposure; and _he_ was
+struck with the placid elegance of manner, formed in no school, which
+was the very outgrowth of the truth within her. His own manner grew
+unconsciously deferential. It is the most flattering homage a man can
+render a woman.
+
+Mrs. Starling had delivered her mind, and thereafter she was content to
+be very civil to him. Further than that a true record cannot go. The
+young officer tried to negotiate himself into her good graces; he was
+attentive and respectful, and made himself entertaining. And Mrs.
+Starling was entertained, and entertained him also on her part; and
+Diana watched for a word of favourable comment or better judgment of
+him when he was gone. None ever came; and Diana sometimes sighed when
+she and her mother had shut the doors, as that night, upon each other.
+For to _her_ mind the favourable comments rose unasked for.
+
+He came very often, on one pretext or another. He began to be very much
+at home. His eye used to meet her's, as something he had been looking
+for and had just found; and the lingering clasp of his hand said the
+touch was pleasant. Generally their interviews were in the parlour of
+Diana's home; sometimes he contrived an occasion to get her to drive
+with him, or to walk; and Diana never found that she could refuse
+herself the pleasure, or need refuse it to him. The country was so
+thinly settled, and their excursions had as yet been in such lonely
+places, that no village eyes or tongues had been aroused.
+
+So the depth of August came. The two were standing one moonlight night
+at the little front gate, lingering in the moonlight. Mr. Knowlton was
+going, and could not go.
+
+"Have you heard anything about the Bear Hill party?" he asked suddenly.
+
+"O yes; Miss Delamater came here a week ago to speak about it."
+
+"Are you going?"
+
+"Mother said she would. So I suppose I shall."
+
+"Where is it? and what is it?"
+
+"The place? Bear Hill is a very wild, stony, bare hill--at least one
+side of it is bare; the other side is covered with trees. And the bare
+side is covered with blackberry bushes, the largest you ever saw; and
+the berries are the largest. We always go there every summer, a number
+of us out of Pleasant Valley, to get blackberries."
+
+"How far is it?"
+
+"Fifteen miles."
+
+"That's a good way to go a-blackberrying," said the young man, smiling.
+"People hereabouts must be very fond of that fruit."
+
+"We want them for a great many uses, you know; it isn't just to eat
+them. Mother makes jam and wine for the whole year, besides what we eat
+at once. And we go for the fun too, as well as for the berries."
+
+"So it is fun, is it?"
+
+"I think so. We make a day of it; and everybody carries provisions; and
+we build a fire, and it is very pleasant."
+
+"I'll go," said Mr. Knowlton. "I have heard something about it at home.
+They wanted me to drive them, but I wanted to know what I was engaging
+myself to. Well, I'll be there, and I'll take care our waggon carries
+its stock of supplies too. Thursday, is it?"
+
+"I believe so."
+
+"What time shall you go?"
+
+"About eight o'clock--or half-past."
+
+"_Eight!_" said the young officer. "I shall have to revive Academy
+habits. I am grown lazy."
+
+"The days are so warm, you know," Diana explained; "and we have to come
+home early. We always have dinner between twelve and one."
+
+"I see!" said the young man. "I see the necessity, and feel the
+difficulty. Well, I'll be there."
+
+He grasped her hand again; they had shaken hands before he left the
+house, Diana remembered; and this time he held her fingers in a light
+clasp for some seconds after it was time to let them go. Then he turned
+and sprang upon his horse and went off at a gallop. Diana stood still
+at the gate where he had left her, looking down the road and listening
+to the diminishing sound of his horse's hoofs. The moonlight streamed
+tenderly down upon her and the elm trees; it filled the empty space
+where Knowlton's figure had been; it flickered where the elm branches
+stirred lightly and cast broken shadows upon the ground; it poured its
+floods of effulgence over the meadows and distant hills, in still,
+moveless peace and power of everlasting calm. It was one of the minutes
+of Diana's life that she never forgot afterwards; a point where her
+life had stood still--still as the moonlight, and almost as sweet in
+its broad restfulness. She lingered at the gate, and came slowly back
+again into the house.
+
+"What are you going to take to Bear Hill, mother?" inquired Diana the
+next day.
+
+"I don't know! I declare, I'm 'most tired of picnics; they cost more
+than they come to. If we could tackle up, now, and go off by ourselves,
+early some morning, and get what we want--there'd be some fun in that."
+
+"It's a very lonely place, mother."
+
+"That's what I say. I'm tired o' livin' for ever in a crowd."
+
+"But you said you'd go?"
+
+"Well, I'm goin'!"
+
+"Then we must take something."
+
+"Well; I'm goin' to. I calculated to take something."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Somethin' 'nother nobody else'll take--if I could contrive what that'd
+be."
+
+"Well, mother, I can tell you. Somebody'll be sure to carry cake, and
+pies, and cold ham and cheese, and bread and butter, and cold chicken.
+All that's sure."
+
+"Exactly. I could have told you as much myself, Diana. What I want to
+know is, somethin' nobody'll take."
+
+"Green corn to boil, mother?"
+
+"Well!" said Mrs. Starling, musing, "that _is_ an idea. How'd you boil
+it?"
+
+"Must take a pot--or borrow one."
+
+"Borrow! Not I, from any o' the Bear Hill folks. I couldn't eat corn
+out o' _their_ kettles. It's a sight o' trouble anyhow, Diana."
+
+"Then, mother, suppose I make a chicken pie?"
+
+"Do what you've a mind to, child. And there must be a lot o' coffee
+roasted. I declare, if I wasn't clean out o' blackberry wine, I'd cut
+the whole concern. There'll be churning just ready Thursday; and Josiah
+had ought to be sent off to mill, we're 'most out o' flour, and he
+can't go to-morrow, for he's got to see to the fence round the fresh
+pasture lot. And I want to clean the kitchen this week. There's no
+sittin' still in this world, I do declare! I haven't set a stitch in
+those gowns o' mine since last Friday, neither; and Society comes here
+next week. And if I don't catch Josiah before he goes out to work in
+the morning and get the stove cleaned out--the flues are all choked
+up--it'll drive me out o' the house or out o' my mind, with the smoke;
+and Bear Hill won't come off then."
+
+Bear Hill did "come off," however. Early on the morning of Thursday,
+Josiah might be seen loading up the little green waggon with tin
+kettles and baskets, both empty and full. Ears of corn went in too, for
+the "idee" had struck Mrs. Starling favourably, and an iron pot found
+its way into one corner. Breakfast was despatched in haste; the house
+locked up and the key put under the door-stone for Josiah to find at
+noon; and the two ladies mounted and drove away while the morning light
+was yet fresh and cool, and the shadows of the trees lay long in the
+meadow. August mornings and evenings were seldom hotter than was
+agreeable in Pleasant Valley.
+
+For some miles the road lay through the region so denominated. Then it
+entered the hills, and soon the way led over them, up and down steep
+ascents and pitches, with a green woodland on each side, and often a
+look-out over some little meadow valley of level fields and cultivation
+bordered and encircled by more hills. The drive was a silent one; Mrs.
+Starling held the reins, and perhaps they gave her thoughts employment
+enough; Diana was musing about another waggonful, and wondering
+whereabouts it was. Till at a turn of the road she discerned behind
+them, at some distance, a vehicle coming along, and knew, with a jump
+of her heart, the colour of the horse and the figure of the driver.
+Even so far off she was sure of them, and turned her sun-bonnet to look
+straight forward again, hoping that her mother might not by any chance
+give a look back. She did not herself again; but Diana's ears were
+watching all the while after that for the sound of hoofs or wheels
+coming near; and her eyes served her to see nothing but what was out of
+her field of vision. The scenery grew by degrees rough and wild;
+cultivation and civilisation seemed as they went on to fall into the
+rear. A village, or hamlet, of miserable, dirty, uncomely houses and
+people, was passed by; and at last, just as the morning was wakening up
+into fervour, Mrs. Starling drew rein in a desolate rough spot at the
+edge of a woodland. The regular road had been left some time before,
+since when only an uncertain wheel track had marked the way. Two or
+three farm waggons already stood at the place of meeting; nobody was in
+them; the last comer was just hitching his horse to a tree.
+
+"Here's Mis' Starling," he called out. "Good day! good-day to 'ye. Hold
+on, Mis' Starling--I'll fetch him up. Goin' to conquer all Bear Hill,
+ain't ye, with all them pails and kettles? Wall--blackberries ain't
+ripe but once in the year. I've left all _my_ business to attend upon
+the women folks. What's blackberries good for, now, when you've got
+'em?"
+
+"Don't you like a blackberry pie, Mr. Selden?"
+
+"Bless you!" said the farmer, "I kin live without it; but my folks
+can't live 'thout comin' once a year to Bear Hill. It is a wonder to me
+why things warn't so ordered as that folks could get along 'thout
+eatin'. It'd save a sight o' trouble. Why, Mis' Starlin', we're workin'
+all the time to fill our stomachs; come to think of it, that's pretty
+much what life is fur. Now I'll warrant you, they'll have a spread by
+and by, that'll be worth all they'll get here to-day."
+
+"Who's come, Mr. Selden?"
+
+"Wall, they ain't all here yet, I guess; my folks is up in the lot,
+hard to work, I s'pose. Mis' Seelye's gals is here; and Bill Howe and
+his wife; and the Delamaters; that's all, I guess. He's safe now, Mis'
+Starlin'."
+
+This last remark had reference to the horse, which farmer Selden had
+been taking out of the shafts and tethering, after helping the ladies
+down. Mrs. Starling got out her pails and baskets destined for the
+berry-picking, and gave some of them to her daughter.
+
+"They'll be all flocking together, up in the thickest part of the lot,"
+she whispered. "Now, Diana, if you'll sheer off a little, kind o', and
+keep out o' sight, you'll have a ventur'; and we can stand a chance to
+get home early after dinner. I'll go along ahead and keep 'em from
+comin' where you are--if I can."
+
+Diana heard with tingling ears, for she heard at the same time the
+sound of the approaching waggon behind her. She did not look; she
+caught up her pail and basket and plunged into the wood path after her
+mother and Mr. Selden; but she had not gone three yards when she heard
+her name called.
+
+"You are not going to desert us?" cried young Knowlton, coming up with
+her. "We don't know a step of the way, nor where to find blackberries
+or anything. I have been piloting myself all the way by your waggon.
+Come back and let me make you friends with my sister."
+
+Blushing and hesitating, Diana had yet no choice. She followed Mr.
+Knowlton back to the clearing, and looked on, feeling partly pleased
+and partly uncomfortable, while he helped from their waggon the ladies
+he had driven to the picnic. The first one dismounted was a beautiful
+vision to Diana's eyes. A trim little figure, robed in a dress almost
+white, with small crimson clusters sprinkled over it, coral buckle and
+earrings, a wide Leghorn hat with red ribbons, and curly, luxuriant,
+long, floating waves of hair. She was so pretty, and her attire was so
+graceful, and had so jaunty a style about it, that Diana was struck
+somehow with a fresh though very undefined feeling of uneasiness. She
+turned to the other lady. Very pretty she was too; smaller even than
+the first one, with delicate, piquant features and a ready smile.
+Daintily she also was dressed in some stuff of deep green colour, which
+set her off as its encompassing foliage does a bunch of cherries. Her
+face looked out almost like one, it was so blooming, from the shadow of
+a green silk sun-bonnet; and her hands were cased in green kid gloves.
+Her eyes sought Diana.
+
+"My sister, Mrs. Reverdy," said young Knowlton eagerly, leading her
+forward. "Miss Starling, Genevieve; you know who Miss Starling is."
+
+The little lady's answer was most gracious; she smiled winningly and
+grasped Diana's hand, and was delighted to know her. "And we are so
+glad to meet you; for we are strangers here, you know. I never was at
+Bear Hill in my life, but they told us of wonderful blackberries here,
+and such multitudes of them; and we persuaded Evan to drive us--you
+know we don't often have him to do anything for us; so we came, but I
+don't know what we should have done if we had not met you. Gertrude and
+I thought we would come and see what a picnic on Bear Hill meant." And
+she laughed again; smiles came very easily to her pretty little face.
+And then she introduced Miss Masters. Knowlton stood by, looking on at
+them all.
+
+"These elegant women!" thought Diana; "what must I seem to him?" And
+truly her print gown was of homely quality and country wear; she did
+not take into the account a fine figure, which health and exercise had
+made free and supple in all its movements, and which the quiet poise of
+her character made graceful, whether in motion or rest. For grace is no
+gift of a dancing-master or result of the schools. It is the growth of
+the mind, more than of the body; the natural and almost necessary
+symbolization in outward lines of what is noble, simple, and free from
+self; and not almost but quite necessary, if the further conditions of
+a well-made and well-jointed figure and a free and unconstrained habit
+of life are not wanting. The conditions all met in Diana; the harmony
+of development was, as it always is, lovely to see.
+
+But a shadow fell on her heart as she turned to lead the way through
+the wood to the blackberry field. For in the artistic elegance of the
+ladies beside her, she thought she recognised somewhat that belonged to
+Mr. Knowlton's sphere and not to her own--something that removed her
+from him and drew them near; she thought he could not fail to find it
+so. What then? She did not ask herself what then. Indeed, she had no
+leisure for difficult analysis of her thoughts.
+
+"Dear me, how rough!" Mrs. Reverdy exclaimed. "Really, Evan, I did not
+know what you were bringing us to. Is it much farther we have to go?"
+
+"It is all rough," said Diana. "You ought to have thick shoes."
+
+"O, I have! I put on horridly thick ones,--look! Isn't that thick
+enough? But I never felt anything like these stones. Is the blackberry
+field full of them too? Really, Evan, I think I cannot get along if you
+don't give me your arm."
+
+"You have two arms, Mr. Knowlton--can't I have the other one?" cried
+Miss Masters dolefully.
+
+"I have got trees on my other arm, Gatty--I don't see where I should
+put you. Can't you help Miss Starling along, till we get out of the
+woods?"
+
+"Isn't it very impertinent of him to call me Gatty?" said the little
+beauty, tossing her long locks and speaking in a half aside to Diana.
+"Now he would like that I should return the compliment and call him
+Evan; but I won't. What do _you_ do, when men call you by your
+Christian name?"
+
+She was trying to read Diana as she spoke, eyeing her with sidelong
+glances, and as they went, laying her daintily gloved hand on Diana's
+arm to help herself along. Diana was astounded both at her confidence
+and at her request for counsel; but as to meet the request would be to
+return the confidence, she was silent. She was thinking, too, of the
+elegant little boot Mrs. Reverdy had displayed, and contrasting it with
+her own coarse shoes. And how very familiar these two were, that he
+should speak to her by her first name so!
+
+"Miss Starling!" cried the other lady behind her,--"do you know we have
+been following your lead all the way we were coming this morning?"
+
+"Mr. Knowlton said so," Diana replied, half turning.
+
+"Aren't you very much flattered?"
+
+This time Diana turned quite, and faced the two.
+
+"My mother was driving, Mrs. Reverdy."
+
+"Ah?" said the other with a very amused laugh. "But you could have done
+it just as well, I suppose."
+
+What does she mean? thought Diana.
+
+"Can you do anything?" inquired the gay lady on her arm. "I am a
+useless creature; I can only fire a pistol, and leap a fence on
+horseback, and dance a polka. What can you do? I dare say you are worth
+a great deal more than me. Can you make butter and bread and pudding
+and pies and sweetmeats and pickles, and all that sort of thing? I dare
+say you can."
+
+"I can do that."
+
+"And all I am good for is to eat them! I can do that. Do you make
+cheeses too?"
+
+"I can. My mother generally makes the cheese."
+
+"O, but I mean you. What do people do on a farm? women, I mean. I know
+what the men do. You know all about it. Do you have to milk the cows
+and feed everything?--chickens and pigs, you know, and all that?"
+
+"The men milk," said Diana.
+
+"And you have to do those other things? Isn't it horrid?"
+
+"It is not horrid to feed the chickens. I never had anything to do with
+the pigs."
+
+"O, but Evan says you know how to harness horses."
+
+Does he? thought Diana.
+
+"And you can cut wood?"
+
+"Cut wood!" Diana repeated. "Did anybody say I could do that?"
+
+"I don't know--Yes, I think so. I forget. But you can, can't you?"
+
+"I never tried, Miss Masters."
+
+"Do you know my cousin, Mr. Masters?--the minister, you know?"
+
+"Yes, I know him a little."
+
+"Do you like him?"
+
+"I like him,--yes, I don't know anything against him," said Diana in
+great bewilderment.
+
+"O, but I do. Don't you know he says it is wicked to do a great many
+things that we do? he thinks everybody is wicked who don't do just as
+he does. Now I don't think everybody is bound to be a minister. He
+thinks it is wicked to dance; and I don't care to live if I can't
+dance."
+
+"That is being very fond of it," said Diana.
+
+"Do you dance her, in the country?"
+
+"Sometimes; not very often."
+
+"Isn't it very dull here in the winter, when you can't go after
+blackberries?"
+
+Diana smiled. "I never found it dull," she said. Nevertheless, the
+contrast smote her more and more, between what Mr. Knowlton was
+accustomed to in his world, and the very plain, humdrum, uneventful,
+unadorned life she led in hers. And this elegant creature, whose very
+dress was a sort of revelation to Diana in its perfection of beauty,
+she seemed to the poor country girl to put at an immense distance from
+Mr. Knowlton those who could not be charming and refined and exquisite
+in the like manner. Her gloves,--one hand rested on Diana's arm, and
+pulled a little too;--what gloves they were, for colour and fit and
+make! Her foot was a study. Her hat might have been a fairy queen's
+hat. And the face under it, pretty and gay and wilful and sweet, how
+could any man help being fascinated by it? Diana made up her mind that
+it was impossible.
+
+The rambling path through the woods brought the party out at last upon
+a wild barren hill-side, where stones and a rank growth of blackberry
+bushes were all that was to be seen. Only far off might be had the
+glimpse of other hills and of patches of cultivation on them; the near
+landscape was all barrenness and blackberries.
+
+"But where are the rest of the people?" said Mrs. Reverdy with her
+faint laugh. "Are we alone? I don't see anybody."
+
+"They are gone on--they are picking," Diana explained.
+
+"Hid in this scrubby forest of bushes," said her brother.
+
+"Have we got to go into that forest too?"
+
+"If you want to pick berries."
+
+"I think we'll sit here and let the rest do the picking," said Mrs.
+Reverdy, looking with charming merriment at Gertrude. But Gertrude was
+not so minded.
+
+"No, I'm going after berries," she said. "Only, I don't see where they
+are. I see bushes, and that is all."
+
+"Just here they have been picked," said Diana. "Farther on there are
+plenty."
+
+"Well, you lead and we'll follow," said Mr. Knowlton. "You lead, Miss
+Starling, and we will keep close to you."
+
+Diana plunged into the blackberry bushes, and striking off from the
+route she guessed the other pickers had taken, sought a part of the
+wilderness lower down on the hill. There was no lack of blackberries
+very soon. Every bush hung black with them; great, fat, juicy beauties,
+just ready to fall with ripeness. Blackberry stains spotted the whole
+party after they had gone a few yards, merely by the unavoidable
+crushing up against the bushes. Diana went to work upon this rich
+harvest, and occupied herself entirely with it; but berry-picking never
+was so dreary to her. The very sound of the berries falling into her
+tin pail smote her with a sense of pain; she thought of the day's work
+before her with revulsion. However, it was before her, and her fingers
+flew among the bushes, from berry to berry, gathering them with a deft
+skilfulness her companions could not emulate. Diana knew how they were
+getting on, without using her eyes to find out; for all their
+experience was proclaimed aloud. How the ground was rough and the
+bushes thorny, how the berries blacked their lips and the prickles
+lacerated their fingers, and the stains of blackberry juice were
+spoiling gloves and dresses and all they had on.
+
+"I never imagined," said Mrs. Reverdy with a gay laugh, "that picking
+blackberries was such a serious business. O dear! and it's only just
+eleven o'clock now. And I am so hungry!"
+
+"Eat blackberries," said Gertrude, who was doing it diligently.
+
+"But I want to carry some home."
+
+"You can buy 'em. We came for fun," was the cool answer.
+
+"Fun?" said Mrs. Reverdy with another echoing, softly echoing, laugh;
+"it's the fun of being torn and stained and scratched, and having one's
+hat pulled off one's hair, and the hair off one's head."
+
+Diana heard it all, they were not far from her; and she heard, too, Mr.
+Knowlton's little remarks, half gallant, half mocking, but very
+familiar, she thought. No doubt, to his sister; but how to Miss Masters
+too? Yet they were; and also, she noticed, he kept in close attendance
+upon the latter young lady; picking into her basket, getting her out of
+her numerous entanglements with the blackberry branches, flattering and
+laughing at her; Gertrude was having what she would call a good time;
+why not? "And why should I?" thought Diana to herself as she filled her
+pail. "It is not in my line. What a goose I was, to fancy that this
+young man could take pleasure in being with me. He _did;_ but then he
+was just amusing himself; it was not I; it was the country and the
+fishing, and so on. What a goose I have been!"
+
+As fast as the blackberries dropped into the pail, so fell these
+reflections into Diana's heart; and when the one was full, so was the
+other. And as she set down her pail and began upon a fresh empty one,
+so she did with her thoughts; they began all over again too.
+
+"Miss Starling, it is twelve o'clock," cried Mrs. Reverdy; "where are
+all the rest of the people? Do you work all day without dinner? I
+expected to see a great picnic out under the trees here."
+
+"This is not the picnic place," said Diana. "We will go to it."
+
+She went back first to the waggons; put her berries in safe keeping,
+and got out some of the lunch supplies. Mr. Knowlton loaded himself
+with a basket out of his waggon; and the procession formed again in
+Indian file, everybody carrying something, and the two ladies grumbling
+and laughing in concert. Diana headed the line, feeling very much
+alone, and wishing sadly it were all over and she at home. How was she
+to play her part in the preparations at hand, where she had always been
+so welcome and so efficient? All spring and life seemed to be taken out
+of her, for everything but the dull mechanical picking of berries.
+However, strength comes with necessity, she found.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+
+THE NEW RICHES OF THE OLD WORLD.
+
+
+
+There was quite a collection of people on Bear Hill to-day, as could be
+seen when they were all gathered together. The lunching place was high
+on the mountain, where there was a good outlook over the surrounding
+country; and here in the edge of the woods the blackberry pickers were
+scattered about, lying and sitting on the ground in groups and pairs,
+chatting and watching the preparations going on before their eyes.
+Pretty and wild the preparations were. Under a big tree just at the
+border of the clearing a fire was kindled; a stout spike driven into
+the trunk of the tree held a tea-kettle just over the blaze. Wreaths of
+blue and grey smoke curling up above the tea-kettle made their way
+through the tree branches into the upper air, taking hues and colours
+and irradiations from the sunlight in their way. The forest behind, the
+wilderness of blackberry bushes in front; the wide view over the hills
+and vales, without one spot of cultivation anywhere, or a trace of
+man's habitation; the scene was wild enough. The soft curling smoke,
+grey and embrowned, gave a curious touch of homeliness to it. From two
+fires it went, curling up as comfortably as if it had been there
+always. The second fire was lit for the purpose of boiling green corn,
+which two or three people were busy getting ready, stripping the green
+husks off. Other hands were unloading baskets and distributing bread
+and butter and cups, and unpacking ham and chickens. Meanwhile, till
+the fires should have done their work, most of the party were
+comfortably awaiting the moment of enjoyment, and taking some other
+moments, as it seemed, by the way. Mrs. Carpenter in one place was
+surrounded by her large family of children; all come to pick
+blackberries, all heated with work and fun, and eager for the dinner.
+Miss Barry, quite tired out, was fanning herself with her sun-bonnet,
+and having a nice bit of chat with Miss Babbage, the schoolmaster's
+sister. Mrs. Mansfield and farmer Carpenter were happily discussing
+systems of agriculture. Mrs. Boddington was making a circle merry with
+her sharp speeches. Younger folks here and there were carrying on their
+own particular lines of skirmishing operations; but there were not many
+of these; the company had come for business quite as much as for play.
+Indeed, Miss Gunn's array of baskets and tin pails suggested that she
+was doing business on her brother's account as much as on her own; and
+that preserves and blackberry wine would be for sale by and by on the
+shelves of the store at the "Corner."
+
+The little party that came up with Diana melted away as it met the
+rest. Mrs. Reverdy glided into the group gathered about Mrs.
+Boddington, and slid as easily into the desultory gossip that was going
+on. Diana had instantly joined herself to the little band of workers at
+the camp fire. Only one or two had cared to take the trouble and
+responsibility of the feast; it was just what Diana craved. As if
+cooking had been the great business of life, she went into it; making
+coffee, watching the corn, boiling the potatoes; looking at nothing
+else and trying to see nobody, and as far as possible contriving that
+nobody should see her. She hid behind the column of smoke, or sheltered
+herself at the further side of the great trunk of a tree; from the
+fire, she said to herself. But her face took on a preternatural gravity
+at those times, whenever she knew it was safe. She thought she did not
+look at anybody; yet she knew that Miss Masters had joined none of the
+groups under the trees, and seemed instead to prefer a solitary post in
+front of them all, where her pretty figure and dainty appointments were
+displayed in full view. Was she looking at the landscape? Diana did not
+in the least believe it. But she tried to work without thinking; that
+vainest of all cheateries, where the conclusions of thought,
+independent of the processes, force themselves upon the mind and lay
+their full weight upon it. Only one does not stop anywhere to think
+about them, and the weight is distributed. It is like driving fast over
+thin ice; stay a minute in any one place, and you would break through.
+But that consciousness makes unpleasant driving.
+
+The corn gave forth its sweet smell, and Diana dished it up. What was
+the use of taking so much trouble, she thought, as ear after ear, white
+and fair, came out of the pot? Yet Diana had enjoyed the notion of
+making this variety in the lunch. The coffee steamed forth its
+fragrance upon the air; and Diana poured it into prepared cups of cream
+and sugar which others brought and carried away; she was glad to stand
+by the fire if only she might. How the people drank coffee! Before the
+cups were once filled the first time, they began to come back for the
+second; and the second, Diana knew, would not satisfy some of the
+farmers and farmers' wives there. So pot after pot of the rich beverage
+had to be made. It wearied her; but she would rather do that than
+anything else. And she had expected this picnic to be such a pleasant
+time! And it had turned out such a failure. Standing by her camp fire,
+where the ascending column of grey smoke veiled her from observation,
+Diana could look off and see the wide landscape of hill and valley
+spread out below and around. Not a house; not another wreath of smoke;
+not a cornfield; hollows of beauty with nothing but their own green
+growth and the sunshine in them; hill-tops fair and lovely, but without
+a fence that told of human ownership or a road that spoke of human
+sympathy. Was life like that, Diana wondered? Yet surely that landscape
+had never looked dreary to her before.
+
+"Mrs. Starling will have another cup of coffee, Miss Diana."
+
+Diana started. What should bring Mr. Knowlton to wait upon her mother's
+cups of coffee? She sugared and creamed, and poured out in silence.
+
+"May I come presently and have some?"
+
+"Haven't you had any?"
+
+"Just enough to make me want more. I never saw such good coffee in my
+life."
+
+"You are accustomed to West Point fare."
+
+"It's not that, though. I know a good thing when I see it."
+
+"When you taste it, I suppose," said Diana; preparing his cup, however,
+she knew, with extra care.
+
+"I assure you," said Mr. Knowlton expressively, as he stirred it, "I
+_have_ appreciation for better things than coffee. I always want the
+best, in every kind; and I know the thing when I see it."
+
+"I make no doubt you can have it," said Diana coolly, turning away.
+
+"Hullo, Diany!" said Mr. Carpenter on the other side,--"you're coming
+it strong to-day. Got no one to help ye? Sha'n't I fetch 'Lizy? she's
+big enough to do som'thin'. I vow I want another cup. You see, it's
+hard work, is picking blackberries. I ain't master here; and my wife,
+she keeps me hard at it. Can't dewolve the duty on no one, neither; she
+sees if I ain't got my pail filled by the time she's got her'n, and I
+tell you! I catch it. It makes me sweat, this kind of work; and that
+makes me kind o' dry. I'll be obleeged to you for another cup. You
+needn't to put no milk into it!"
+
+"It's strong, Mr. Carpenter."
+
+"Want it, I tell you! working under orders this way makes a man feel
+kind o' feeble."
+
+"How do you think we women get along, Mr. Carpenter?" said Mrs
+Boddington, coming up with her cup.
+
+"How, Mis' Boddington?"
+
+"Yes, I'm asking that. A little more, Diana; it's first-rate, and so's
+the corn. It takes you and your mother!--How do you think we women
+feel, under orders all the time?"
+
+"Under orders!" said Mr. Carpenter.
+
+"Yes, all the time. How d'you think we feel about it?"
+
+"Must be uncommon powers of reaction," said the farmer. "My wife a'n't
+anywheres near killed yet."
+
+"Think any one'll ever get that piece of mantua-making under orders?"
+said Mrs. Boddington, looking towards the place where the frills and
+rufflings of Miss Masters' drapery stirred in the breeze, with the long
+light tresses of her unbound hair. The breeze was partly of her own
+making, as she stirred and turned and tossed her head in talking with
+Mr. Knowlton; the only one of the company whom she would talk with,
+indeed. The farmer took a good look at her.
+
+"Wall," said he,--"_I_ should say it was best to do with that kind of
+article what you would do with the steam from your tea kettle; let it
+go. 'Tain't no use to try to utilize everything, Mis' Boddington."
+
+"Evan Knowlton acts as if he thought differently."
+
+"Looks is enough, with some folks," said the farmer; "and she's a
+pretty enough creatur', take the outside of her. Had ought to be; for I
+guess that sort o' riggin' costs somethin'--don't it, Mis' Boddington?"
+
+"Cost?" said the lady. "Evan Knowlton is a fool if he lets himself be
+caught by such butterfly's wings. But men _are_ fools when women are
+pretty; there's no use reasoning against nature."
+
+"Wall, Diany," exclaimed Joe Bartlett, now drawing near with _his_
+coffee cup,--"how comes you have all the work and other folks all the
+fun?"
+
+"Want some coffee, Joe?"
+
+"Fact, I do; that is, supposin' you have got any."
+
+"Plenty, Joe. That's what I am here for. Hold your cup. Who are you
+picking for to-day?"
+
+"Wall, _I_ ain't here for fun," said Joe; "there's no mistake about
+that. I b'lieve in fun too; I do sartain; but I _don't_ b'lieve in
+scratchin' it into you with blackberry brambles, nor no other. Thank'e,
+Diany; maybe this'll help me get along with the afternoon."
+
+"I never thought you would mind blackberry thorns, Joe."
+
+"No more I don't, come in the way o' business," said Joe, sipping his
+coffee. "Guess I kin stand a few knocks, let alone scratches, when I
+calculate to have 'em. But I don' know! my notion of pleasure's
+sun'thin' soft and easy like; ain't your'n? I expect to take
+scratches--bless you! but I don't call 'em fun. That's all I object to."
+
+"Then how come you here, Joe?"
+
+"Wall,--" said Joe slowly,--"I've got an old mother hum."
+
+"And she wanted some berries?"
+
+"She wanted a lot. What the women does with 'em all, beats me. Anyhow,
+the old lady'll have enough this time for all her wants."
+
+"How is she, Joe, to-day?"
+
+"Days don't make no difference to my mother, Diany. You know that,
+don't ye? There don't nothin' come wrong to her. I vow, I b'lieve she
+kind o' likes it when things is contrairy. I never see her riled by no
+sort o' thing; and it's not uncommon for _me_ to be as full's I kin
+hold; but she's just like a May mornin', whatever the weather is. There
+ain't no scarin' her, either; she'd jest as lieves die as live, I
+b'lieve, any day."
+
+"I daresay she would," said Diana, feeling at the moment that it was
+not so very wonderful. Life in this world might be so dull as to be not
+worth living for.
+
+"It's a puzzle to me," Joe went on, "which is right, her or the rest on
+us. Ef she is, we ain't. And her and the rest o' the world ain't agreed
+on nothin'. But it is hard to say she ain't right, for she's the
+happiest woman that ever I see."
+
+Diana assented absently.
+
+"Wall," said Joe, "I'm a little happier for that 'ere cup o' coffee.
+I'll go at it agin now. Who's that 'ere little bundle o' muslin
+ruffles, Diany? she's a kind o' pretty creatur', too. She hain't sot
+down this hull noonspell. Who is it?"
+
+"Miss Masters."
+
+"She ain't none o' the family o' our parson?"
+
+"A cousin, I believe."
+
+"Cousin, eh," said Joe. "She hain't set down once. I guess she's afeard
+o' gettin' the starch out somewhere. The captain's sweet on her, ain't
+he? I see he tuk a deal o' care o' her eatin'."
+
+"Mr. Knowlton is not a captain yet, Joe; he is only a lieutenant."
+
+"Want to know," said Joe. "Wall, I kin tell ye, she likes him."
+
+And Joe strolled off, evidently bent on doing his best with the
+blackberry bushes. So must Diana; at least she must seem to do it.
+There was a lull with the coffee cups; lunch was getting done; here and
+there parties were handling their baskets and throwing their
+sun-bonnets on. The column of smoke had thinned now to a filmy veil of
+grey vapour, slowly ascending, through which Diana could look over to
+the round hill-tops, with their green leaves glittering in the sun; and
+farther still, to the blue, clear vault of ether, where there was
+neither shine nor shadow, but the changeless rest of heaven. Earth with
+its wildness of untrodden ways, its glitter and flutter; heaven,--how
+did that seem? Far off and inscrutable, though with an infinite depth
+of repose, an infinite power of purity. The human heart shrank before
+both.
+
+"And I had thought to-day would be a day of pleasure," Diana said to
+herself. "If I could get into the waggon and go home--alone--and get
+the fire started and the afternoon work done ready for supper before
+mother comes!--They will not need me to pilot them home at any rate."
+
+But things have to be faced, not run away from, in life; and trials
+take their time and cannot be lopped into easier length. Diana did what
+she could. She caught up her basket very quietly, carrying it and her
+sun-bonnet in one hand, and slipped away down the hill under cover of
+the trees till she was out of sight of everybody; then plunged into the
+forest of high bushes and lost herself. She began to pick vigorously;
+if she was found, anybody should see what she was there for. It was a
+thicket of thorns and fruit; the berries, large, purple, dewy with
+bloom, hung in quantities, almost in masses, around her. It was only
+needful sometimes to hold her basket underneath and give a touch to the
+fruit; and it dropped, fast and thick, into her hands. But she felt as
+if the cool soft berries hurt her fingers. She wondered whereabouts was
+pretty Miss Masters now, making believe pick, and with fingers at hand
+to supplement her, and looks and words to make labour sweet, even if it
+were labour. "But _she_ will never do any work," said Diana to herself;
+"and he will be quite willing that she should not." And then she
+noticed her own fingers; a little coarsened with honest usefulness they
+were--a little; and a little embrowned with careless exposure. Not
+white and pearly and delicate like those of that other hand. And Diana
+remembered that Mr. Knowlton's own were delicate and white; and she
+could understand, she thought, that a man would like in a woman he
+loved, all daintinesses and delicacies, even although they pertained to
+the ornamental rather than to the useful. It was the first time Diana
+had ever wished for white hands; she did wish for them now, or rather
+regret the want of them, with a sharp, sore point of regret. Even
+though it would have made no difference.
+
+Picking and thinking and fancying herself safe, Diana made a plunge to
+get through an uncommonly tangled thicket of interlacing branches, and
+found herself no longer alone. Miss Gunn was three feet off, squatting
+on the ground to pick the more restfully; and on the other side of her
+was Diana's cousin, Nick Boddington.
+
+"Hullo, Di!" was his salutation, "where have you left my wife and the
+rest of the folks?"
+
+"I don't know, Nick; I haven't left them at all."
+
+"What did you come here for, then?"
+
+"What did you?"
+
+"I declare! I came to have the better chance, me and Miss Gunn; I
+thought where nobody was, I'd have it all to myself. I'll engage you
+are disappointed to find us--now, ain't you?"
+
+"The field is big enough, cousin Nick."
+
+"Don't know about that. What is become of your fine people?"
+
+"I haven't any fine people."
+
+"What's become o' them you _had_, then? You brought 'em here; have you
+deserted 'em?"
+
+"I came to do work, Nick; and I'm doing it."
+
+"What did they come for? have you any guess? 'Tain't likely they come
+to pick blackberries."
+
+"I told Mis' Reverdy," said Miss Gunn smotheredly from the depths of a
+blackberry bush and her sun-bonnet, "that we'd have plenty for
+ourselves and Elmfield too to-morrow. I will, I guess."
+
+"They'll want 'em, Miss Gunn," said Mr. Boddington. "They'll not carry
+home a pint, you may depend. Di, did they come after you, or you come
+after them, this morning?"
+
+Diana answered something, she hardly knew what, and made a plunge
+through the bushes in another direction. Anything to get out of _this_
+neighbourhood. She went on eagerly, through thicket after thicket, till
+she supposed she was safe. And as she stopped, Mr. Knowlton came round
+from the other side of the bush. The thrill of pain and pleasure that
+went through the girl gave no outward sign.
+
+"Met again," said the gentleman. "What has become of you? I have lost
+sight of you since dinner."
+
+"One can't see far through these bushes," said Diana.
+
+"No. What a thicket it is! But at the same time, people can hear; and
+you never know who may be a few feet off. Does anybody ever come here,
+I wonder, when we are gone? or is this wild fruitful hill bearing its
+harvest for us alone?"
+
+"Other parties come, I daresay," said Diana.
+
+She was picking diligently, and Mr. Knowlton set himself to help her.
+The berries were very big and ripe here; for a few minutes the two
+hands were silently busy gathering and dropping them into Diana's pail;
+then Mr. Knowlton took the burden of that into his own hand. Diana was
+not very willing, but he would have it.
+
+"One would think blackberries were an important concern of life," he
+said presently, "by the way you work."
+
+"I am sure, you are working too," said Diana.
+
+"Ah, but I supposed you knew what it is all for. Now I have not the
+faintest idea. I know what _I_ am after, of course; but what you are
+after is a puzzle to me."
+
+"Things are very often a puzzle to me," said Diana vaguely; and having
+for some reason or other a good deal of difficulty in commanding
+herself.
+
+"Aren't you tired?"
+
+"No--I don't know," said Diana. "It does not signify."
+
+"I don't believe you care, any more than a soldier, what you find in
+your way. Do you know, you said something, up yonder at the camp fire,
+which has been running in my head ever since? I wish you would explain
+it."
+
+"I?" said Diana. "I said something? What?"
+
+"I told you what I wanted,--and you said you had no doubt I could get
+it."
+
+"I have no recollection of one thing or the other, Mr. Knowlton. I
+think you must have been speaking to somebody else at the time--not me.
+If you please, I will try the bushes that way; I think somebody has
+been in this place."
+
+"Don't you remember my telling you I always want the best of
+everything?" he said as he followed her; and Diana went too fast for
+him to hold the briary branches out of her way.
+
+"There are so many other people who are of that mind, Mr. Knowlton!"--
+
+"Not yourself?"
+
+"I want the best berries," said Diana, stopping before a cluster of
+bushes heavily laden.
+
+"How about other things?"
+
+Diana felt a pang at her heart, an odd desire to make some wild answer.
+But nothing could be cooler than what she said.
+
+"I take them as I find them, Mr. Knowlton."
+
+He was helping her now again.
+
+"What did you suppose I was thinking of, when I told you I wanted the
+best I could have?"
+
+"I had no right to suppose anything. No doubt it is true of all sorts
+of things."
+
+"But I was thinking of _one_--did you guess what?"
+
+Diana hesitated. "I don't know, Mr. Knowlton,--I might guess wrong."
+
+"Then what made you say, 'no doubt' I could have it?"
+
+"I don't know, Mr. Knowlton," said Diana, feeling irritated and worried
+almost past her power to bear. "Don't you always have what you want?"
+
+"Do you think I can?" he said eagerly.
+
+"I fancy you do."
+
+"What _did_ you think I meant by the 'best' thing, then? Tell me--do
+tell me?"
+
+"I thought you meant Miss Gertrude Masters," Diana said, fairly brought
+to bay.
+
+"You did! And what did you think I thought of Miss Diana Starling?"
+
+He had stopped picking blackberries now, and was putting his questions
+short and keenly. Diana's power of answering had come to an end.
+
+"Hey!" said he, drawing her hand from the bush and stopping her work;
+"what did you think I thought of _her?_--I have walked with her, and
+driven with her, and talked with her, in the house and out of the
+house, now all summer long; I have seen what she is like at home and
+abroad; what do you think I think of _her?_"
+
+Baskets and berries had, figuratively, fallen to the ground; literally
+too, in Mr. Knowlton's case, for certainly both his hands were free,
+and had been employed while these words were spoken in gently and
+slowly gathering Diana into close bondage. There she stood now, hardly
+daring to look up; yet the tone of his questions had found its way to
+her inmost heart. She could not refuse one look, which they asked for.
+It gave her what she never forgot to her latest day.
+
+"Does she know now?" he went on in a tone of mixed tenderness and
+triumph, like the expression of his face. "My lily!--my Camellia
+flower!--my sweet Magnolia!--whatever there is most rare, and good, and
+perfect. My best of all things. Can I have the best, Di?"
+
+Miss Gertrude Masters would have been equal to the situation, and
+doubtless would have met it with great equanimity; Diana was unused to
+most of the world's ways, and very new to this. She stood in quiet
+dignity, indeed; but the stains of crimson on cheek and brow flushed
+and paled like the lights of a sunset. All at the bottom of her deep
+sun-bonnet; was Mr. Knowlton to blame if he gently pushed it back and
+insinuated it off, till he had a full view?
+
+"You know what is my 'best' now," he said. "Can I have it, Diana?"
+
+She tried to break away from him, and on her lip there broke that
+beautiful smile of hers; withal a little tremulous just then. It is
+rare on a grown woman's lip, a smile so very guileless and free; mostly
+it belongs to children. Yet not this smile, either.
+
+"I should think you must know by this time," she whispered.
+
+I suppose he did; for he put no more questions for a minute or two.
+
+"There's one more thing," he said. "Now you know what I think of you;
+what do you think of me, Diana?"
+
+"I think you are very imprudent," she said, freeing herself resolutely,
+and picking up her sun-bonnet. "Anybody might come, Mr. Knowlton."
+
+"Anybody might! But if ever you call me 'Mr. Knowlton' again--I'll do
+something extraordinary."
+
+Diana thought he would have a great many things to teach her, beside
+that. She went at her fruit-picking with bewildered haste. She did not
+know what she was doing, but mechanically her fingers flew and the
+berries fell. Mr. Knowlton picked rather more intelligently; but
+between them, I must say, they worked very well. Ah, the blackberry
+field had become a wonderful place; and while the mellow purple fruit
+fell fast from the branches, it seemed also as if years had reached
+their fruition and the perfected harvest of life had come. Could riper
+or richer be, than had fallen into Diana's hands now? than filled them
+now? So it was, she thought. And yet this was not life's harvest, only
+the bloom of the flower; the fruit comes not to its maturity with one
+sunny day, and it needs more than sunshine. But let the fruit grow; it
+will come in time, even if it ripens in secret; and meanwhile smell the
+flower. It was the fragrance of the grape blossom that filled the
+blackberry field; most sweet, most evanishing, most significant. Oddly,
+many people do not know it. But it must be that their life has never
+brought them within reach of its charm.
+
+Two people in the field never knew how the shadows grew long that day.
+No, not even though their colloquy was soon interrupted, and by
+Gertrude Masters herself. She thenceforth claimed, and received, Mr.
+Knowlton's whole services; while Diana in her turn was assisted by Will
+Flandin, a young farmer of Pleasant Valley, who gave his hands and his
+arms to her help. It did not make much difference to Diana; it might
+have been an ogre, and she would not have cared; so she hardly noticed
+that Will, who had a glib enough tongue in ordinary, was now very
+silent. Diana herself said nothing. She was listening to hidden music.
+
+"There's a wonderful lot o' blackberries on Bear Hill," Will remarked
+at last.
+
+"Yes," said Diana.
+
+"Well, I guess we've cleaned 'em out pretty well for this time,"
+pursued he.
+
+"Have we?" said Diana.
+
+"Why, all these folks ha' been pickin' all day; I should _think_ they'd
+ha' made a hole in 'em."
+
+Silence fell again.
+
+"How's the roads down your way?" began Mr. Flandin again.
+
+"The roads? pretty well, I believe."
+
+"They're awful, up this way, to Bear Hill. I say, Miss Starling, how do
+you s'pose those people lives, in that village?"
+
+"How do they? I don't know."
+
+"Beats me! they don't raise nothin', and they don't kill
+nothin',--'thout it's other folks's; and what they live on I would jest
+like to know. Mother, she thinks a minister had ought to go and settle
+down among 'em; but I tell her I'd like to see what a sheriff 'd do
+fust. They don't live in no reg'lar good way, that's a fact."
+
+"Poor people!" said Diana. "They don't even know enough to pick
+blackberries."
+
+"They hadn't no need to be so poor ef they would work," said the young
+man. "But I s'pose you've got a kind word for every one, ha'n't you,
+Miss Starling?"
+
+"Diany," said the voice of Joe Bartlett, who was pushing his way
+towards her through the bushes,--"Diany! Here you be! Here's your
+mother lookin' for ye. Got all you want? It's gettin' time to make
+tracks for hum. The sun's consid'able low."
+
+"I'm ready, Joe."
+
+"Give me one o' them pails, then, and we'll try ef we kin git through
+these pesky bushes. I vow! I wouldn't like to take Bear Hill for a
+farm, not on a long lease."
+
+They pushed and fought their way in the thicket for a long distance,
+till, as Joe remarked, they had surveyed the hill pretty well; Diana
+conscious all the time that Mr. Knowlton and Gertrude were following in
+their wake. That was near enough. She liked it so. She liked it even
+that in the crowd and the bustle of packing and hitching horses, and
+getting seated, there was no chance for more than a far-off nod and
+wave of the hand from the Elmfield parly. They drove off first this
+time. And Diana followed at a little distance, driving Prince; Mrs.
+Starling declaring herself "tuckered out."
+
+There was no sense of weariness on Diana. Never less in her life. She
+was glad the drive was so long; not because she was weary and wanted to
+rest, but because every nerve and sense seemed strung to a fine
+tension, so that everything that touched them sent waves of melody over
+her being. Truly the light was sweet that evening, for any eyes; to
+Diana's vision the sunbeams were solid gold, though refined out of all
+sordidness, and earth was heaped up and brimming over with riches. The
+leaves of the trees on the hill-sides sparkled in the new wealth of
+nature; the air scintillated with it; the water was full of it.
+Prince's hoofs trod in measure, and the wheels of the waggon moved
+rhythmically, and the evening breeze might have been the very spirit of
+harmony. The way was long, and before home was reached the light had
+faded and the sparkling was gone; but even that was welcome to Diana.
+She was glad to have a veil fall, for a while, over the brightness, and
+hide even from herself the new world into which she had entered. She
+knew it was there, under the veil; the knowledge was enough for the
+present.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+
+MRS. STARLING'S OPINIONS.
+
+
+
+It was well dusk when Prince stopped under the elm tree. The sun had
+gone down behind the low distant hills, leaving a white glory in all
+that region of the heavens; and shadows were settling upon the valleys.
+All household wants and proprieties were disarranged; the thing to do
+was to bring up arrears as speedily as possible. To this Mrs. Starling
+and her daughter addressed themselves. The blackberries were put
+carefully away; the table set, supper cooked, for the men must have a
+warm supper; and after supper and clearing up there came a lull.
+
+"If it warn't so late," said Mrs. Starling,--"but it _is_ too
+late,--I'd go at those berries."
+
+"Mother! Not to-night."
+
+"Well, no; it's 'most too late, as I said; and I _am_ tired. I want to
+know if this is what folks call work or play? 'cause if it's play, I'd
+rather work, for my part. I believe I'd sooner stand at the wash-tub."
+
+"Than pick blackberries, mother?"
+
+"Well, yes," said Mrs. Starling; "'cause _then_ I'd know when my work
+was done. If the sun hadn't gone down, we'd all be pickin' yet."
+
+"I am sure, you could stop when you were tired, mother; couldn't you?"
+
+"I never am tired, child, while I see my work before me; don't you know
+that? And it's a sin to let the ripe fruit go unpicked. I wonder what
+it grows in such a place for! Who were you with all day?"
+
+"Different people."
+
+"Did Will Flandin find you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He was in a takin' to know where you were. So I just gave him a bit of
+a notion."
+
+"I don't see how _you_ could know, mother; I had been going so
+roundabout among the bushes. I don't know where I was, myself."
+
+"When ever you don't know that, Diana, stop and find out."
+
+Mrs. Starling was sitting before the stove in a resting attitude, with
+her feet stretched out towards it. Diana was busy with some odds and
+ends, but her mother's tone--or was it her own consciousness?--made her
+suddenly stop and look towards her. Mrs. Starling did not see this,
+Diana being behind her.
+
+"Did it ever strike you that Will was sweet on you?" she went on.
+
+"Will Flandin, mother?"
+
+An inarticulate note of assent.
+
+Diana did not answer, and instead went on with what she had been doing.
+
+"Hey?" said Mrs. Starling.
+
+"I hope he'll get cured of it, mother, if he is."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I don't know why," said Diana, half laughing, "except that he had
+better be sweet on some one else."
+
+"He's a nice fellow."
+
+"Yes, I think he is; as they go."
+
+"And he'll be very well off, Diana."
+
+"He's no match for me, then, mother; for I am well off now."
+
+"No, you ain't, child," said Mrs. Starling. "We have enough to live on,
+but that's all."
+
+"What more does anybody want?"
+
+"You don't mean what you say, Diana!" cried her mother, turning upon
+her. "Don't you want to have pretty things, and a nice house, and
+furniture to suit you, and maybe servants to do your work? I wonder
+who's particular, if you ain't! Wouldn't you like a nice carriage?"
+
+"I like all these things well enough, mother; but they are not the
+first thing."
+
+"What is the first thing?" said Mrs. Starling shortly.
+
+"I should say,--how I get them."
+
+"Oh!--I thought you were going to say the man was the first thing.
+That's the usual lingo."
+
+Diana was silent again.
+
+"Now you can have Will," her mother went on; "and he would be my very
+choice for you, Diana."
+
+Diana made no response.
+
+"He is smart; and he is good-lookin'; and he'll have a beautiful farm
+and a good deal of money ready laid up to begin with; and he's the sort
+to make it more and not make it less. And his mother is a first-rate
+woman. It's one of the best families in all Pleasant Valley."
+
+"I would rather not marry either of 'em," said Diana, with a little
+half laugh again. "You know, mother, there are a great many nice people
+in the world. I can't have all of 'em."
+
+"Who were you with all the forenoon?" Mrs. Starling asked suddenly.
+
+"You went off and left me with the people from Elmfield. I was taking
+care of them."
+
+"I saw you come out of the field with them. What a popinjay that
+Masters girl is, to be sure! and Mrs.--what's her name?--the other, is
+not much better. Soft as oil, and as slippery. How on earth did _they_
+come to Bear Hill?"
+
+"I suppose they thought it would be fun," Diana said with constrained
+voice.
+
+"Don't let anybody get sweet on you there, Diana Starling; not if you
+know what is good for you."
+
+"Where, mother?"
+
+"_There_. At Elmfield. Among the Knowlton folks."
+
+"What's the matter with them?" Diana asked; but not without a touch of
+amusement in her voice, which perhaps turned the edge of her mother's
+suspicion. She went on, however, energetically.
+
+"Poor and proud!" she said. "Poor and proud. And that's about the
+meanest kind of a mixture there is. I don't mind if folks has something
+to go on--why, airs come nat'ral to human nature; I can forgive 'em
+anyhow, for I'm as proud as they be. But when they _hain't_
+anything--and when they pile up their pretensions so high they can't
+carry 'em steady--for my part I'd rather keep out o' their way. They're
+no pleasure to me; and if they think they're an honour, it's an opinion
+I don't share. Gertrude Masters ain't no better than a balloon; full of
+gas; she hain't weight enough to keep her on her feet; and Mrs.--what's
+her name?--Genevy--she's as smooth as an eel. And Evan is a monkey."
+
+"Mother! what makes you say so?"
+
+"Why don't he shave himself then, like other folks?"
+
+"Why, mother, it is just the fashion in the army to wear a moustache."
+
+"What business has he to be in the army? He ought to be here helping
+his grandfather. I have no sort o' patience with him."
+
+"Mother, you know they sent him to the Military Academy; of course he
+could not help being in the army. It is no fault of his."
+
+"He could quit it, I suppose, if he wanted to. But he ain't that sort.
+He just likes to wear gold on his shoulders, and a stripe down his leg,
+and fancy buttons, and go with his coat flying all open to show his
+white shirt. I think, when folks have a pair of such broad shoulders,
+they're meant to do some work; but he'll never do none. He'll please
+himself, and hold himself up high over them that _does_ work. And he'll
+live to die poor. I. won't have you take after such a fellow, Diana;
+mind, I won't. I won't have _you_ settin' yourself up above your mother
+and despisin' the ways you was brought up to. And I want you to be
+mistress o' Will Flandin's house and lands and money; and you can, if
+you're a mind to."
+
+Diana was a little uncertain between laughing and crying, and thought
+best not to trust her voice. So they went up to their rooms and
+separated for the night. But all inclination to tears was shut out with
+the shutting of her door. Was not the moonlight streaming full and
+broad over all the fields, filling the whole world with quiet radiance?
+So came down the clear, quiet illumination of her happiness upon all
+Diana's soul. There was no disturbance; there was no shadow; there was
+no wavering of that full flood of still ecstasy. All things not in
+harmony with it were hidden by it. That's the way with moonlight.
+
+And the daylight was sweeter. Early, Diana always saw it; in those
+prime hours of day when strength, and freshness, and promise, and
+bright hope are the speech and the eye-glance of nature. How much help
+the people lose who lose all that! When the sun's first look at the
+mountains breaks into a smile; when morning softly draws off the veil
+from the work there is to do; when the stir of the breeze speaks
+courage or breathes kisses of sympathy; and the clear blue sky seems
+waiting for the rounded and perfected day to finish its hours, now just
+beginning. Diana often saw it so; she did not often stop so long at her
+window to look and listen as she did this morning. It was a clear,
+calm, crisp morning, without a touch of frost, promising one of those
+mellow, golden, delicious days of September that are the very ripeness
+of the year; just yet six o'clock held only the promise of it. Like her
+life! But the daylight brought all the vigour of reality; and last
+night was moonshine. Diana sat at her window a few minutes drinking it
+all in, and then went to her dairy.
+
+Alas! one's head may be in rare ether, and one's feet find bad walking
+spots at the same time. It was Diana's experience at breakfast.
+
+"How are those pigs getting along, Josiah?" Mrs. Starling demanded.
+
+"Wall, I don' know," was the somewhat unsatisfactory response. "Guess
+likely the little one's gettin' ahead lately."
+
+"He hadn't ought to!" said Mrs. Starling. "What's the reason the others
+ain't gettin' ahead as fast as him?"
+
+"He's a different critter--that's all," said Josiah stolidly. "He'll be
+the biggest."
+
+"They're all fed alike?"
+
+"Fur's my part goes," said Josiah; "but when it comes to the
+eatin'--tell you! that little feller'll put away consid'able more'n his
+share. That's how he's growd so."
+
+"They are not any of 'em the size they ought to be, Josiah."
+
+"We ain't feedin' 'em corn yet."
+
+"But they are not as big as they were last year this time."
+
+"Don't see how you'll help it," said Josiah. "I ain't done nothin' to
+'em."
+
+With which conclusion Mrs. Starling's 'help' finished his breakfast and
+went off.
+
+"There ain't the hay there had ought to be in the mows, neither," Mrs.
+Starling went on to her daughter. "I know there ain't; not by tons. And
+there's no sort o' a crop o' rye. I wish to mercy, Diana, you'd do
+somethin'."
+
+"Do what, mother?" Diana said gaily. "You mean, you wish Josiah would
+do something."
+
+"I know what I mean," said Mrs. Starling, "and I commonly say it. That
+is, when I say anything. I _don't_ wish anything about Josiah. I've
+given up wishin'. He's an unaccountable boy. There's no dependin' on
+him. And the thing is, he don't care. All he thinks on is his own
+victuals; and so long's he has 'em, he don't care whether the rest of
+the world turns round or no."
+
+"I suppose it's the way with most people, mother; to care most for
+their own."
+
+"But if I had hired myself to take care of other folks' things, I'd
+_do_ it," said Mrs. Starling. "That ain't my way. Just see what I
+haven't done this morning already! and he's made out to eat his
+breakfast and fodder his cattle. I've been out to the barn and had a
+good look at the hay mow and calculated the grain in the bins; and seen
+to the pigs; and that was after I'd made my fire and ground my coffee
+and set the potatoes on to boil and got the table ready and the rooms
+swept out. Is that cream going to get churned to-day, Diana?"
+
+"No, mother."
+
+"It's old enough."
+
+"It is not ready, though."
+
+"It ought to be. I tell you what, Diana, you must set your cream pot in
+here o' nights; the dairy's too cold."
+
+"Warm enough yet, mother. Makes better butter."
+
+"You don't get nigh so much, though. That last buttermilk was all thick
+with floatin' bits of butter; and that's what I call wasteful."
+
+"I call it good, though."
+
+"There's where you make a mistake, Diana Starling; and if you ever want
+to be anything but a poor woman, you've got to mend. It's just those
+little holes in your pocket that let out the money; a penny at a time,
+to be sure; but by and by when you come to look for the dollars, you
+won't find 'em; and you'll not know where they're gone. And you'll want
+'em."
+
+"Mother," said Diana, laughing, "I can't feel afraid. We have never
+wanted 'em yet."
+
+"You've been young, child. You will want 'em as you grow older. Marry
+Will Flandin, and you'll have 'em; and you may churn your cream how you
+like. I tell you what, Diana; when your arm ain't as strong as it used
+to be, and your back gets to aching, and you feel as if you'd like to
+sit down and be quiet instead of delvin' and delvin', _then_ you'll
+feel as if 't would be handy to put your hand in your pocket and find
+cash somewhere. My! I wish I had all the money your father spent for
+books. Books just makes some folks crazy. Do you know it's the
+afternoon for Society meeting, Diana?"
+
+"I had forgotten it. I shall not go."
+
+"One of us must," said Mrs. Starling. "I don't see how in the world I
+can; but I suppose I'll have to. You'll have to make the bread then,
+Diana. Yesterday's put me all out. And what are you going to do with
+all those blackberries? They're too ripe to keep."
+
+"I'll do them up this afternoon, mother. I'll take care of them."
+
+The morning went in this way, with little intermission. Mrs. Starling
+was perhaps uneasy from an undefined fear that something was going not
+right with Diana's affairs. She could lay hold on no clue, but perhaps
+the secret fear or doubt was the reason why she brought up, as if by
+sheer force of affinity, every small and great source of annoyance that
+she knew of. All the morning Diana had to hear and answer a string of
+suggestions and complainings like the foregoing. She was not
+unaccustomed to this sort of thing, perhaps; and doubtless she had her
+own hidden antidote to annoyance: yet it belonged still more to the
+large sweet nature of the girl, that though annoyed she was never
+irritated. Wrinkles never lined themselves on the fair smooth brow;
+proper token of the depth and calm of the character within.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+
+IN SUGAR.
+
+
+
+Dinner was over, and talk ceased, for Mrs. Starling went to dress
+herself for the sewing society, and presently drove off with Prince.
+Diana's motions then became as swift as they were noiseless. Her
+kitchen was in a state of perfected order and propriety. She went to
+dress herself then; a modest dressing, for business, and kitchen
+business, too, must claim her all the afternoon; but it is possible to
+combine two effects in one's toilet; and if you had seen Diana that
+day, you would have comprehended the proposition. A common print gown,
+clean and summery-looking, showed her soft outlines at least as well as
+a more modish affair would; and the sleeves rolled up to the elbows
+revealed Diana's beautiful arms. I am bound to confess she had chosen a
+white apron in defiance of possible fruit stains; and the dark hair
+tucked away behind her ears gave the whole fair cheek and temple to
+view; fair and delicate in contour, and coloured with the very hues of
+a perfect physical condition. I think no man but would like to see his
+future wife present such a picture of womanly beauty and housewifely
+efficiency as Diana was that day. And the best was, she did not know it.
+
+She went about her work. Doubtless she had a sense that interruptions
+might come that afternoon; however, that changed nothing. She had
+moulded her bread and put it in the pans and got it out of the way; and
+now the berries were brought out of the pantry, and the preserving
+kettle went on the fire, and Diana's fingers were soon red with the
+ripe wine of the fruit. All the time she had her ears open for the
+sound of a horse's hoofs upon the road; it had not come, so that a
+quick step outside startled her, and then the figure of Mr. Knowlton in
+the doorway took her by surprise. Certainly she had been expecting him
+all the afternoon; but now, whether it were the surprise or somewhat
+else, Diana's face flushed to the most lovely rose. Yet she went to
+meet him with simple frankness.
+
+"I've not a hand to give you!" she said.
+
+"Not a hand!" he echoed. "What a mercy it is that I am independent of
+hands. Yesterday I should have been in despair;--to-day"--
+
+"You must not abuse your privileges," said Diana, trying to free
+herself. "And O, Mr. Knowlton, I have a great deal of work to do."
+
+"So have I," said he, holding her fast; and indeed she was too pretty a
+possession to be easily let go. "Whole loads of talking, and no end of
+arrangements.--Di, I never saw you with such a charming colour. My
+beauty! Do you know what a beauty you are?"
+
+"I am glad you think so!" she said.
+
+"Think so? Wait till you are my wife, and I can dress you to please
+myself. I think you will be a very princess of loveliness."
+
+"In the meantime, Mr. Knowlton, what do you think of letting me finish
+my berries?"
+
+"Berries?" he said, laughing. "Tell me first, Di, what do you think of
+me?"
+
+"Inconvenient," said Diana. "And I think, presuming. I must finish my
+berries, Mr. Knowlton."
+
+"_Evan_," he said.
+
+"Well; but let me do my work."
+
+"Do your work?--My darling! How am I going to talk to you, if you are
+going into your work? However, in consideration of yesterday--you may."
+
+"What made you come to this door?" Diana asked.
+
+"I knew you were here."
+
+"You would have been much more likely to find mother, most days."
+
+"Ah, but I met Prince, as I came along, with Mrs. Starling behind him;
+and then I thought"--
+
+"What?"
+
+"I remembered," said Knowlton, laughing, "that the same person cannot
+be in two places at once!"
+
+The comfort of this fact being upon them, the two took advantage of it.
+Mr. Knowlton drew his chair close to the table over which Diana's
+fingers were so busy; and a talk began, which in the range and variety
+and arbitrary introduction of its topics, it would be in vain to try to
+follow. Through it all Diana's work went on, except now and then when
+her fingers made an involuntary pause. The berries were picked over,
+and weighed, and put over the fire, and watched and tended there; while
+the tall form of the young officer stood beside Diana as she handled
+her skimmer, and went back and forth as she went, helping her to carry
+her jars of sweetmeat.
+
+"Have you told your mother?" Mr. Knowlton asked.
+
+"No."
+
+"Why not?" he asked quickly.
+
+"I did not think it was a good time, last night or this morning."
+
+"Does she not like me?"
+
+"I think she wants to put some one else in your place, Evan."
+
+"Who?" he asked instantly.
+
+"Nobody you need fear," said Diana, laughing. "Nobody I like."
+
+"Is there anybody you do like?"
+
+"Plenty of people--that I like a little."
+
+"How much do you like me, Diana?"
+
+She lifted her eyes and looked at him; calm, large, grey eyes, into
+which there had come a new depth since yesterday and an added light.
+She looked at him a moment, and dropped them in silence.
+
+"Well?" said he eagerly. "Why don't you speak?"
+
+"I cannot," said Diana.
+
+"Why? I can speak to you."
+
+"I suppose people are different," said Diana. "And I am a woman."
+
+"Well, what then?"
+
+She turned away, with the shyest, sweetest grace of reserve; turned
+away to her fruit, quite naturally; there was no shadow of affectation,
+nor even of consciousness. But her eyes did not look up again; and Mr.
+Knowlton's eyes had no interruption.
+
+"Di, where do you think we shall go when we are married?"
+
+"I don't know," she said simply; and the tone of her voice said that
+she did not care. It was as quiet as the harebells when no wind is
+blowing.
+
+"And _I_ don't know!" Knowlton echoed with a half-sigh. "I don't know
+where I am going myself. But I shall know in a day or two. Can you be
+ready in a week, do you think, Diana?"
+
+"Shall you have to go so soon as that?" she asked with a startled look
+up.
+
+"Pretty near. What of that? You are going with me. It may be to some
+rough out-of-the-way place; we never can tell; you know we are a sort
+of football for Uncle Sam to toss about as he pleases; but you are not
+afraid of being a soldier's wife, Di?"
+
+She looked at him without speaking; a look clear and quiet and glad,
+like her voice when she spoke. So full of the thought of the reality he
+suggested, evidently, that she never perceived the occasion for a
+blush. Her eyes went through him, to the rough country or the frontier
+post where she could share--and annul--all his harsh experiences.
+
+"What sort of places are those where you might go, Evan?"
+
+"Nearly all sorts on the face of the earth, my beauty. I might be sent
+to the neighbourhood of one of the great cities; we should have a good
+time then, Di! I would wait for nothing; I could come and fetch you
+just as soon as I could get a furlough of a day or two. But they are
+apt to send us, the young officers, to the hardest places; posts beyond
+civilisation, out west to the frontier, or south to Texas, or across to
+the Pacific coast."
+
+"California!" Diana cried.
+
+"California; or Oregon; or Arizona. Yes; why?"
+
+"California is very far off."
+
+"Rather," said Knowlton, with a half sigh again. "It don't make any
+difference, if we were once there, Diana."
+
+Diana looked thoughtful. It had never occurred to her, before this
+time, to wish that the country were not so extended; and certainly not
+to fancy that California and she had any interest in common. Lo, now it
+might be. "How soon _must_ you go, Evan?" she asked, as thoughts of
+longitude and latitude began to deepen the cloud shadow which had just
+touched her.
+
+"A few days--a week or two more."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"Can you go with me?" he whispered, bending forward to pick up a few of
+her berries, for the taste of which he certainly did not care at that
+moment.
+
+And she whispered, "No."
+
+"Can't you?"
+
+"You know it's impossible, Evan."
+
+"Then I must go by myself," he said, in the same half breath, stooping
+his head still so near that a half breath could be heard; and his hair,
+quite emancipated from the regulation cut, touched Diana's cheek. "I
+don't know how I can! But, Di--if I can get a furlough at Christmas and
+come for you--will you be ready then?"
+
+She whispered, "Yes."
+
+"That is, supposing I am in any place that I can take you to," he went
+on, after a hearty endorsement of the contract just made. "It is quite
+possible I may not be! But I won't borrow trouble. This is the first
+trouble I ever had in my life, Di, leaving you."
+
+"They say prosperity makes people proud," she said, with an arch glance
+at him.
+
+"'Proud?" echoed Knowlton. "Yes, I _am_ proud. I have a right to be
+proud. I do not think, Diana, there is such a pearl in all the waters
+of Arabia as I shall wear on my hand. I do not believe there is a rose
+to equal you in all the gardens of the world. Look up, my beauty, and
+let me see you. I sha'n't have the chance pretty soon."
+
+And yielding to the light touch of his fingers under her chin,
+caressing and persuading, Diana's face was lifted to view. It was like
+a pearl, for the childlike purity of all its lines; it was like enough
+a rose, too; like an opening rose, for the matter of that. Her thoughts
+went back to the elegance of Mrs. Reverdy and Gertrude Masters, and she
+wondered in herself at Mr. Knowlton's judgment of her; but there was
+too much of Diana ever to depreciate herself unworthily. She said
+nothing.
+
+"I wonder what will become you best?" said Evan in a very satisfied
+tone.
+
+"Become me?" said Diana lifting her eyes.
+
+"Yes. What's your colour?"
+
+"I am sure I don't know," said Diana, laughing. "No one in particular,
+I guess."
+
+"Wear everything, can you? I shouldn't wonder! But I think I should
+like you in white. That's cold for winter--in some regions. I think I
+should like you in--let me see--show me your eyes again, Diana. If you
+wear so much rose in your cheeks, my darling," said he, kissing first
+one and then the other, "I should be safe to get you green. You will be
+lovely in blue. But of all, _except_ white, I think I should like you,
+Diana, in royal red."
+
+"I thought purple was the colour of kings and queens," Diana remarked,
+trying to get back to her berries.
+
+"Purple is poetical. I am certain a dark, rich red would be magnificent
+on you; for it is you who will beautify the colour, not the colour you.
+I shall get you the first stuff of that colour I see that is of the
+right hue."
+
+"Pray don't, Evan. Wait," said Diana, flushing more and more.
+
+"Wait? I'll not wait a minute longer than till I see it. My beauty!
+what a delight to get things for you--and with you! Officers' quarters
+are sorry places sometimes, Diana; but won't it be fun for you and me
+to work transformations, and make our own world; that is our own home?
+What does Mrs. Starling think of me?"
+
+"I have told her nothing, Evan, yet. She was so busy this morning, I
+had not a good chance."
+
+"I'll confront her when she comes home this evening."
+
+"O no, Evan; leave it to me; I want to take a _good_ time. She will not
+like it much anyhow."
+
+"I don't see really how she should. I have sympathy--no, I haven't! I
+haven't a bit. I am so full of my own side of the question, it is sheer
+hypocrisy to pretend I have any feeling for anybody else. When will you
+come down to Elmfield?"
+
+"To Elmfield?" said Diana.
+
+"To begin to learn to know them all. I want them to know you."
+
+"You have not spoken to them about me?"
+
+"No," said he, laughing; "but I mean to."
+
+"Evan, don't say anything to anybody till mother has been told. Promise
+me! That would not do."
+
+"All's safe yet, Di. But make haste with your revelations; for I shall
+be here to-morrow night and every night now, and astonish her; and it
+isn't healthy for some people to be astonished. Besides, Di, my orders
+will be here in a week or two; and then I must go."
+
+"Do you like being under orders?" said Diana innocently.
+
+Knowlton's grave face changed again; and laughing, he asked if _she_
+did not like it? and how she would do when she would be a soldier's
+wife, and so under _double_ orders? And he got into such a game of
+merriment, at her and with her, that Diana did not know what to do with
+herself or her berries either. How the berries got attended to is a
+mystery; but it shows that the action of the mind can grow mechanical
+where it has been very much exercised. It can scarce be said that Diana
+thought of the blackberries; and yet, the jam was made and the wine
+prepared for in a most regular and faultless manner; the jars were
+filled duly, and nothing was burned, and all was done and cleared away
+before Mrs. Starling came home. Literally; for Mr. Knowlton had been
+sent away, and Diana had gone up to the sanctuary of her own room. She
+did not wish to encounter her mother that night. While the dew was not
+yet off her flowers, she would smell their sweetness alone.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+
+A STORM IN SEPTEMBER.
+
+
+
+Diana was not put to the trial next day of venturing her precious
+things to harsh handling. A very uncommon thing happened. Mrs. Starling
+was not well, and kept her bed.
+
+She had caught cold, she confessed, by some imprudence the day before;
+and symptoms of pleurisy made it impossible that she should fight
+sickness as she liked to fight it, on foot. The doctor was not to be
+thought of; Mrs. Starling gave her best and only confidence to her own
+skill; but even that bade her lie by and "give up."
+
+Diana had the whole house on her hands, as well as the nursing. Truth
+to tell, this last was not much. Mrs. Starling would have very little
+of her daughter's presence; still less of her ministrations. To be "let
+alone" was her principal demand, and that Diana should "keep things
+straight below." Diana did that. The house went on as well as ever; and
+even the farm affairs received the needful supervision. Josiah Davis
+was duly ordered, fed, and dismissed; and when evening came, Diana was
+dressed in order, bright, and ready for company. Company it pleased her
+to receive in the lean-to kitchen; the sound of voices and laughter
+beneath her would have roused Mrs. Starling to a degree of excitement
+from which it would have been impossible to keep back anything; and
+probably to a degree of consequent indignation which would have been
+capable of very informal measures of ejectment regarding the intruder.
+No; Diana could not risk that. She must wait till her mother's nerves
+and temper were at least in their ordinary state of wholesome calm,
+before she would shock them by the disclosures she had to make. And
+almost by their preciousness to herself, Diana gauged their
+unwelcomeness to her mother. It was always so. The two natures were so
+unlike, that not even the long habit of years could draw them into
+sympathy. They thought alike about nothing except the housewifely
+matters of practical life. So these evenings when Mrs. Starling was
+ill, Diana had her lamp and her fire in the lean-to kitchen; and there
+were held the long talks with Mr. Knowlton which made all the days of
+September so golden,--days when Diana's hands were too busy to let her
+see him, and he was told he must not come except at night; but through
+all the business streamed the radiant glow of the last night's talk,
+like the September sunlight through the misty air.
+
+So the days went by; and Mrs. Starling was kept a prisoner; pain and
+weakness warning her she must not dare try anything else. And in their
+engrossment the two young people hardly noticed how the time flew.
+People in Pleasant Valley were not in the habit of paying visits to one
+another in the evenings, unless specially invited; so nobody discovered
+that Evan came nightly to Mrs. Starling's house; and if his own people
+wondered at his absence from home, they could do no more. Suspicion had
+no ground to go upon in any particular direction.
+
+The month had been glorious with golden leaves and golden sunshine,
+until the middle was more than past. Then came a September storm; an
+equinoctial, the people said; as furious as the preceding days had been
+gentle. Whirlwinds of tempest, and floods of rain; legions of clouds,
+rank after rank, bringing the winds in their folds; or did the winds
+bring them? All one day and night and all the next day, the storm
+continued; and night darkened early upon Pleasant Valley with no
+prospect of a change. Diana had watched for it a little eagerly; Evan's
+visit was lost the night before, of course; it was much to lose, when
+September days were growing few; and now another night he could not
+come. Diana stood at the lean-to door after supper, looking and making
+her conclusions sorrowfully. It was darkening fast; very dark it would
+be, for there was no moon. The rain came down in streams, thick and
+grey. The branches of the elm trees swung and swayed pitilessly in the
+wind, beating against each other; while the wind whistled and shouted
+its intention of keeping on so all night. "He can't come," sighed Diana
+for the fifth or sixth time to herself; and she shut the door. It could
+be borne, however, to lose two evenings, when they had enjoyed so many
+together, and had so many more to look forward to; and with that
+mixture in her heart of content and longing, which everybody knows,
+Diana trimmed her lamp and sat down to sew. How the wind roared! She
+must trim her fire too, or the room would be full of smoke. She made
+the fire up; and then the snare of its leaping flames and glowing coal
+bed drew her from her work; she sat looking and thinking, in a fulness
+of happiness to which all the roar of the storm only served for a foil.
+She heard the drip, drip of the rain; the fast-running stream from the
+overcharged eaves trough; then the thunder of the wind sweeping over
+the house in a great gust; and the whistle of the elm branches as they
+swung through the air like tremendous lithe switches, beating and
+writhing and straining in the fury of the blast. Looking into the
+clear, glowing flames, Diana heard it all, with a certain sense of
+enjoyment; when in the midst of it she heard another sound, a little
+thing, but distinguishable from all the rest; the sound of a foot upon
+the little stone before the door. Only one foot it could be in the
+world; Diana started up, and was standing with lips apart, facing the
+door, when it opened, and a man came in enveloped in a huge cloak,
+dripping at every point.
+
+"Evan!" Diana's exclamation was, with an utterance between joy and
+dread.
+
+"Yes," said he as he came forward into the room,--"I've got orders."
+
+Without another word she helped relieve him of his cloak and went with
+it to the outer kitchen, where she hung it carefully to dry. As she
+came back, Evan was standing in front of the fire, looking gravely into
+it. The light danced and gleamed upon the gold buttons on his breast,
+and touched the gold bands on his shoulders; it was a very stately and
+graceful figure to Diana's eyes. He turned a little, took her into his
+arms, and then they both stood silent and still.
+
+"I've got my orders," Knowlton repeated in a low tone.
+
+"To go soon, Evan?"
+
+"Immediately."
+
+"I knew it, when I heard your foot at the door."
+
+They were both still again, while the storm swept over the house in a
+fresh burst, the wind rushing by as if it was glad he was going and
+meant he should. Perhaps the two did not hear it; but I think Diana
+did. The rain poured down in a kind of fury.
+
+"How could you get here, Evan?" she asked, looking up at him.
+
+"I must, I had only to-night."
+
+"You are not _wet?_"
+
+"No, darling! Rain is nothing to me. How are you? and how is your
+mother?"
+
+"She is better. She is getting well."
+
+"And you? You are most like a magnolia tree, full of its white
+magnificent blossoms; sweet in a kind of wealth of sweetness and
+bountiful beauty. One blossom would do for a comparison for ordinary
+women; but you are like the whole tree."
+
+"Suppose I were to find comparisons for you?"
+
+"Ay, suppose you did. What would you liken me to?" said he with a
+sparkle of the eyes, which quite indisposed Diana from giving any more
+fuel to the fire that supplied it.
+
+"What, Di? You might as well give me all the comfort you can to take
+away with me. I shall need it. And it will be long before I can come
+back for more. What am I like?"
+
+"Would you feel any better for thinking yourself like a pine tree? or a
+green hemlock? one of those up in our ravine of the brook?"
+
+"Ah, our ravine of the brook! Those days are all gone. I wish I were a
+green hemlock anywhere, with you a magnolia beside me; or better, a
+climbing rose hanging upon me! If I could take you, Di!"
+
+The pang of the wish was very keen in her; the leap of the will towards
+impossibilities; but she said nothing and stood quite motionless.
+
+"I cannot come back for you at Christmas, Di."
+
+"Where are you going, Evan."
+
+"Where I would not take you, anyhow. I am under orders to report myself
+at a post away off on the Indian frontier, a long journey from here;
+and a rough, wild place never fit for such as you. Of course we young
+officers are the ones to be sent to such places; unless we happen to
+have influence at headquarters, which I haven't. But I shall not stay
+there for ever."
+
+"Must you go just where they send you?"
+
+"Yes," he said with a laugh. "A soldier cannot choose."
+
+"Must you stay as long as they keep you there?"
+
+"Yes, of course. But there is no use in looking at it gloomily, Di. The
+months will pass, give them time; and years are made of months. The
+good time will come at last. I'm not the first who has had to bear this
+sort of thing."
+
+"Will you have to stay _years_ there?"
+
+"Can't tell. I may. It depends on what is doing, and how much I am
+wanted. Probably I may have to stay two years at least; perhaps three."
+
+"But you can get a furlough and come for a little while, Evan?" said
+Diana; her voice sounded frightened.
+
+"That's the worst of it!" said Knowlton. "I don't know whether I can or
+not."
+
+"Why, Evan? don't they always?"
+
+"Generally it can be done if the distance is not too great, and you are
+not too useful. You see, there are seldom too _many_ officers on hand,
+at those out-of-the-way posts."
+
+"Is there so much to do?" said Diana, half mechanically. Her thoughts
+were going farther; for grant the facts, what did the reasons matter?
+
+"There's a good deal to do sometimes," Evan answered in the same way,
+thinking of more than he chose to speak. They stood silent again
+awhile. Diana was clasped in Knowlton's arms; her cheek rested on his
+shoulder; they both looked to the fire for consolation. Snapping,
+sparkling, glowing, as it has done in the face of so many of our
+sorrows, small and great, is there no consolation or suggestion to be
+got out of it? Perhaps from it came the suggestion at last that they
+should sit down. Evan brought a chair for Diana and placed one for
+himself close beside it, and they sat down, holding fast each other's
+hands.
+
+Was it also the counsel of the fire that they should sit there all
+night? For it was what they did. The fire burned gloriously; the lamp
+went out; the red lights leaped and flickered all over floor and
+ceiling; and in front of the blaze sat the two, and talked; enough to
+last two years, you and I might say; but alas! to them it was but a
+whetting of the appetite that was to undergo such famine.
+
+"If I could only take you with me, my darling!" Evan said for the
+twentieth time. And Diana was silent at first; then she said,
+
+"It would be pleasant to go through hardships together."
+
+"No, it wouldn't!" said Evan. "Not hardships for you, my beauty! They
+are all very well for me; in a soldier's line; but not for you!"
+
+"A soldier's wife ought not to be altogether unworthy of him," Diana
+answered.
+
+"Nor he of her. So I wouldn't take you if I could where I am going. A
+soldier's wife will have hardships enough, first and last, no fear; but
+some places are not fit for women anyhow. I wish I could have seen Mrs.
+Starling, though, and had it out with her."
+
+"Had it out!" repeated Diana.
+
+"Yes. I should have a little bit of a fight, shouldn't I? She _don't_
+like me much. I wonder why?"
+
+"Evan," said Diana after a minute's thought, "if you are to be so long
+away, there is no need to speak to anybody about our affair just now.
+It is our affair; let it stay so. It is our secret. I should like it
+much better to keep it a secret. I don't want to hear people's talk.
+Will you?"
+
+"But our letters, my dear; they will tell your mother."
+
+"Mother will not see mine. And she is not likely to see yours; I shall
+go to the post office myself. If she did, and found it out, I could
+keep _her_ quiet easily enough. She would not want to speak, any more
+than I."
+
+Evan combated this resolution for some time. He wished to have Diana
+friends with his sisters and at home at Elmfield. But Diana had her own
+views, and desired so strongly to keep her secret to herself, during
+the first part at least of what threatened to be a long engagement,
+that at last he yielded. It did not matter much to him, he said, away
+off in the wilds.
+
+So that subject was dismissed; and before the fantasia of the flames
+they sat and composed a fantasia of life for themselves; as bright, as
+various, as bewitching, as evanishing; the visions of which were
+mingled with the leaping and changing purple and flame tints, the
+sparkle and the flash of the fire. Diana could never stand before a
+fire of hickory logs and fail to see her life-story reappear as she had
+seen it that night.
+
+The hours went by.
+
+"It's too bad to keep you up so, my darling!" Evan remarked. "I am
+selfish."
+
+"No indeed! But you must want something, Evan! I had forgotten all
+about it."
+
+He said he wanted nothing, but her; however, Diana's energies were
+roused. She ran into the back kitchen, and came from thence with the
+tea-kettle in her hands, filled. She was not allowed to set it down, to
+be sure, but under her directions it was bestowed in front of the
+glowing coals. Then, with noiseless, rapid movements, she brought a
+little table to the hearth and fetched cups and plates. And then she
+spread the board. There was a cold ham on the big table; and round
+white slices of bread, such as cities never see; and cake, light and
+fruity; and yellow butter; and a cream pie, another dainty that
+confectioners are innocent of; and presently the fragrance of coffee
+filled the old lean-to to the very roof. Evan laughed at her, but
+confessed himself hungry, and Diana had it all her own way. For once,
+this rare once, she would have the pleasure, she and Evan alone; many a
+day would come and go before she might have it again. So she thought as
+she poured coffee upon the cream in his cup. And whether the pleasure
+or the pain were the keenest even then, I cannot tell; but it was one
+of those minutes when one chooses the pleasure, and will have it and
+will taste it, whatever lies at the bottom of the draught. The small
+hours of night, the fire-lit kitchen, the daintily-spread table, she
+and Evan at opposite sides of it; the pleasure of ministering, such as
+every woman knows; the beauty of her bread, the magnificence of her
+coffee, the perfection of her cookery, the exultation of seeing him
+enjoy it; while her heart was storing up its treasure of sorrow for the
+unfolding by and by, and knew it, and covered it up, and went on
+enjoying the minute. The criticism is sometimes made upon a writer here
+and there, that he talks too much about _eating;_ and in a
+high-finished and artificial state of society it is indeed true that
+eating is eating, and nothing more. Servants prepare the viands, and
+servants bring them; and the result is more or less agreeable and
+satisfactory, but can hardly be said to have much of poetry or
+sentiment about it. The case is not so with humbler livers on the
+earth's surface. Sympathy and affection and tender ministry are wrought
+into the very pie-crust, and glow in the brown loaves as they come out
+of the oven; and are specially seen in the shortcake for tea, and the
+favourite dish at dinner, and the unexpected dumpling. Among the
+working classes, too,--it is true only of them?--the meals are the
+breathing spaces of humanity, the resting spots, where the members of
+the household come together to see each other's faces for a moment at
+leisure, and to confer over matters of common interest that have no
+chance in the rush and the whirl of the hours of toil. At any rate, I
+know there was much more than the mere taste of the coffee in the cups
+that Diana filled and Knowlton emptied; much more than the supply of
+bodily want in the bread they eat.
+
+The repast was prolonged and varied with very much talk; but it was
+done at last. The kettle was set on one side, the table pushed back,
+and Evan looked at his watch. Still talk went on quietly for a good
+while longer.
+
+"At what hour does your chief of staff open his barn doors?" said Evan,
+looking at his watch again.
+
+"Early," said Diana, not showing the heart-thrust the question had
+given her. "Not till it is light, though."
+
+"It will be desirable that I should get off before light, then. It is
+not best to astonish him on this occasion."
+
+"It is not near light yet, Evan?"
+
+He laughed, and looked at her. "Do you know, I don't know when that
+moment comes? I have not seen it once since I have been at Elmfield. It
+shows how little truth there is in the theories of education."
+
+Diana did not ask what he meant. She went to the door and looked out.
+It was profoundly dark yet. It was also still. The rain was not
+falling; the wind had ceased; hush and darkness were abroad. She came
+back to the fire and asked what o'clock it was. Evan looked. They had
+an hour yet; but it was an hour they could make little use of. The
+night was gone. They stood side by side on the hearth, Evan's arm round
+her; now and then repeating something which had been already spoken of;
+really endeavouring to make the most of the mere fact of being
+together. But the minutes went too fast. Again and again Diana went to
+the window; the second time saw, with that nameless pang at her heart,
+that the eastern horizon was taking the grey, grave light of coming
+dawn. Mr. Knowlton went out then presently, saddled his horse, and
+brought him out to the fence, all ready. For a few minutes they waited
+yet, and watched the grey light creeping up; then, before anything was
+clearly discernible through the dusky gloom, the last farewell was
+taken; Evan mounted and walked his horse softly away from the door.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+
+THE ASHES OF THE FIRE.
+
+
+
+Diana sat down with her face in her hands, and was still. She felt like
+a person stunned. It was very still all around her. The fire gently
+breathed and snapped; the living presence that had been there was gone.
+A great feeling of loneliness smote her. But there was leisure for few
+tears just then; and too high-wrought a state of the nerves to seek
+much indulgence in them. A little while, and Josiah would be there with
+his pails of milk; there was something to be done first.
+
+And quick, as another look from the window assured her. Things were
+becoming visible out of doors. Diana roused herself, though every
+movement had to be with pain, and went about her work. It was hard to
+move the chair in which Evan had been sitting; it was hard to move the
+table around which they had been so happy; even that little trace of
+last night could not be kept. Evan's cup, Evan's plate, the bit of
+bread he had left on it, Diana's fingers were dilatory and unwilling in
+dealing with them. But then she roused herself and dallied no longer.
+Table and cups and eatables were safely removed; the kitchen brushed
+up, and the table set for breakfast: the fire made in the outer stove,
+and the kettle put on; though the touch of the kettle hurt her fingers,
+remembering when she had touched it last. Every tell-tale circumstance
+was put out of the way, and the night of watching locked up among the
+most precious stores of Diana's memory. She opened the lean-to door
+then.
+
+The morning was rising fair. Clouds and wind had wearied themselves
+out, as it might be; and nature was in a great hush. Racks of vapour
+were scattered overhead, slowly moving away in some current of air that
+carried them; but below there was not a breath stirring. A little drip,
+drip from the leaves only told how heavily they had been surcharged;
+the long pendent branches of the elm hung moveless, as if they were
+resting after last night's thrashing about. And as Diana looked, the
+touches of gold began to come upon the hills and then on the tree-tops.
+It was lovely and fair as ever; but to Diana it was a changed world.
+She was not the same, and nothing would ever be just the same as
+yesterday it had been. She felt that, as she looked. She had lost and
+she had gained. Just now the loss came keenest. The world seemed
+singularly empty. The noise of entering feet behind her brought her
+back to common life. It was Josiah and the milk pails.
+
+"Hain't set up all night, hev' ye?" was Josiah's startling remark. "I
+vow! you get the start of the old lady herself. I b'ain't ready for
+breakfast yet, if you be."
+
+"It will be ready soon, Josiah."
+
+"Mornin's is gettin' short," Josiah went on. "One o' them pesky barn
+doors got loose in the night, and it's beat itself 'most off the
+hinges, I guess. I must see and get it fixed afore Mis' Starlin's
+round, or she'll be hoppin'. The wind was enough to take the ruff off,
+but how it could lift that 'ere heavy latch, I don't see."
+
+Diana went to the dairy without any discussion of the subject. Coming
+back to the kitchen, she was equally startled and dismayed to see her
+mother entering by the inner door. If there was one thing Diana longed
+for this morning, it was, to be alone. Josiah and the farm boys were
+hardly a hindrance. She had thought her mother could not be.
+
+"Are you fit to be down-stairs, mother?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Might as well be down as up," said Mrs. Starling. "Can't get well
+lying in bed. I'm tired to death with it all these days; and last night
+I couldn't sleep half the night; seemed to me I heard all sorts of
+noises. If I'd had a light I'd ha' got up then. I thought the house was
+coming down about my ears; and if it was, I'd rather be up to see."
+
+"The wind blew so."
+
+"You heard it too, did you? When did you come down, Diana? I hain't
+heard the first sound of your door. 'Twarn't light, was it?"
+
+"I have been up a good while. But you are not fit to do the least
+thing, mother. I was going to bring you your breakfast."
+
+"If there's a thing I hate, it's to have my meals in bed. I don't want
+anything, to begin with; and I can take it better here. What have you
+got, Diana? You may make me a cup of tea. I don't feel as though I
+could touch coffee. What's the use o' _your_ gettin' up so early?"
+
+"I've all to do, you know, mother."
+
+"No use in burning wood and lights half the night, though. The day's
+long enough. When did you bake?"
+
+Diana answered this and several other similar household questions, and
+got her mother a cup of tea. But though it was accompanied with a nice
+bit of toast, Mrs. Starling looked with a dissatisfied air at the more
+substantial breakfast her daughter was setting on the table.
+
+"I never could eat slops. Diana, you may give me some o' that pork. And
+a potato."
+
+"Mother, I do not believe it is good for you."
+
+"Good for me? And I have eat it all my life."
+
+"But when you were well."
+
+"I'm well enough. Put some of the gravy on, Diana. I'll never get my
+strength back on toasted chips."
+
+The men came in, and Mrs. Starling held an animated dialogue with her
+factotum about farm affairs; while Diana sat behind her big
+coffee-pot--not the one she had used last night, and wondered if that
+was all a dream; more sadly, if she should ever dream again. And why
+her mother could not have staid in her room one day more. One day
+more!--
+
+"He hain't begun to get his ploughing ahead," said Mrs. Starling, as
+the door closed on the delinquent.
+
+"What, mother?" Diana asked, starting.
+
+"Ploughing. You haven't kept things a-going, as I see," returned her
+mother. "Josiah's all behind, as usual. If I could be a man half the
+time, I could get on. He ought to have had the whole west field
+ploughed, while I've been sick."
+
+"I don't know so much about it as you do, mother."
+
+"I know you don't. You have too much readin' to do. There's a pane of
+glass broken in that window, Diana."
+
+"Yes, mother. I know it."
+
+"How did it come?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"You'll never get along, Diana, till you know everything that happens
+in your house. You aren't fit anyhow to be a poor woman. If you're
+rich, why you can get a new pane of glass, and there's the end of it.
+I'm not so rich as all that comes to."
+
+"Getting a pane of glass, mother?"
+
+"Without knowing what for."
+
+"But how does it help the matter to know what for? The glass must be
+got anyway."
+
+"If you know what for, it won't be to do another time. You'll find a
+way to stop it. I'll warrant, now, Diana, you haven't had the ashes
+cleared out of that stove for a week."
+
+"Why, mother?"
+
+"It smokes. It always does smoke when it gets full of ashes; and it
+never smokes when it ain't."
+
+"There is no smoke _here_, surely."
+
+"I smell it. I can smell anything there is about. I don't know whatever
+there was in the house last night that smelled like coffee; but I
+a'most thought there was somebody makin' it down-stairs. I smelled it
+as plain as could be. If I could ha' got into my shoes, I believe I
+would ha' come down to see, just to get rid of the notion, it worried
+me so. It beats me now, what it could ha' been."
+
+Diana turned away with the cups she had been wiping, that she might not
+show her face.
+
+"Don't you never have your ashes took up, Diana?" cried Mrs. Starling,
+who, when much exercised on household matters, sometimes forgot her
+grammar.
+
+"Yes, mother."
+
+"When did you have 'em took up in this chimney?"
+
+"I do not remember--yesterday, I guess," said Diana vaguely.
+
+"You never burnt all the ashes there is there since yesterday morning.
+You'd have had to sit up all night to do it; and burn a good lot o'
+wood on your fire, too."
+
+"Mother," exclaimed Diana in desperation, "I don't suppose everything
+is just as it would be if you'd been round all these days."
+
+"I guess it ain't," said Mrs. Starling. "There's where you are wanting,
+Diana. Your hands are good enough, but I wouldn't give much for your
+eyes. There's where you'd grow poor, if you weren't poor a'ready. Now
+you didn't know when that pane o' glass was broke. You'd go round and
+round, and a pane o' glass'd knock out here, and a quart of oil 'ud
+leak out there, and you'd lose a pound of flour between the sieve and
+the barrel, and you'd never know how or where."
+
+"Mother," said Diana, "you know I _never_ spill flour or anything else;
+no more than you do."
+
+"No, but it would go, I mean, and you never the wiser. It ain't the way
+to get along, unless you mean to marry a rich man. Now look at that
+heap o' ashes! I declare, it beats me to know what you _have_ been
+doing to burn so much wood here; and mild weather, too. Who has been
+here to see you, since I've been laid up?"
+
+"Several people came to ask about you."
+
+"Who did? and who didn't? that came at all."
+
+"Joe Bartlett--and Mr. Masters--and Mrs. Delamater,--I can't tell you
+all, mother; there's been a good many."
+
+"Tell me the men that have been here.
+
+"Well, those I said; and Will Flandin, and Nick, and Mr. Knowlton."
+
+"Was _he_ here more than once?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How much more?"
+
+"Mother, how do I know? I didn't keep count."
+
+"Didn't keep count, eh?" Mrs. Starling repeated. "Must have been
+frequent company, I judge. Diana, you mind what I told you?"
+
+Diana made no answer.
+
+"You shall have nothing to do with him," Mrs. Starling went on. "You
+never shall. You sha'n't take up with any one that holds himself above
+me. I'll be glad when his time's up; and I hope it'll be long before
+he'll have another. Once he gets away, he'll think no more of _you_,
+that's one comfort."
+
+Diana knew that was not true; but it hurt her to have it said. She
+could stand no more of her mother's talk; she left her and went off to
+the dairy, till Mrs. Starling crept up-stairs again. Then Diana came
+and opened the lean-to door and looked out for a breath of refreshment.
+The morning was going on its way in beauty. Little clouds drifted over
+the deep blue sky; the mellow September light lay on fields and hills;
+the long branches of the elm swayed gently to and fro in the gentle air
+that drove the clouds. But oh for the wind and the storm of last night,
+and the figure that stood beside her before the chimney fire! The
+gladsome light seemed to mock her, and the soft breeze gave her touches
+of pain. She shut the door and went back to her work.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+
+FROM THE POST OFFICE.
+
+
+
+Mrs. Starling's room was like her; for use, and not for show, with some
+points of pride, and a general air of humble thrift. A patchwork quilt
+on the bed; curtains and valance of chintz; a rag carpet covering only
+part of the floor, the rest scrubbed clean; rush-bottomed chairs; and
+with those a secretary bureau of old mahogany, a dressing-glass in a
+dark carved frame, and a large oaken press. There were corner
+cupboards; a table holding work and work-basket; a spinning-wheel in a
+corner; a little iron stove, but no fire. Mrs. Starling lay down on her
+bed, simply because she was not able to sit up any longer; but she was
+scarcely less busy, in truth, than she had been down-stairs. Her eyes
+roamed restlessly from the door to the window, though with never a
+thought of the sweet September sunlight on the brilliant blue sky.
+
+"Diana's queer this morning," she mused. "Yes, she was queer. What made
+her so mum? She was not like herself. Sailing round with her head in
+the clouds. And a little bit _blue_, too; what Diana never is; but she
+was to-day. What's up? I've been lying here long enough for plenty of
+things to happen; and she's had the house to herself. Knowlton has been
+here--she owned that; well, either he has been here too often, or not
+often enough. I'll find out which. She's thinkin' about him. Then that
+coffee--_was_ it coffee, last night? I could have sworn to it; just the
+smell of fresh, steaming coffee. I didn't dream it. She wasn't
+surprised, either; she had nothing to say about it. She would have
+laughed at it once. And the ashes in the chimney! There's been a sight
+o' wood burned there, and just burned, too; they lay light, and hadn't
+been swep' up. There's mischief! but Diana never shall go off with that
+young feller; never; never! Maybe she won't have Will Flandin; but she
+sha'n't have him."
+
+Mrs. Starling lay thinking and staring out of her window, till she felt
+she could go down-stairs again. And then she watched. But Diana had put
+every possible tell-tale circumstance out of the way. The very ashes
+were no longer where her mother could speculate upon them; pies and
+cakes showed no more suspiciously-cut halves or quarters; she had even
+been out to the barn, and found that Josiah, for reasons of his own,
+was making the door-latch and hinges firm and fast. It was no time now,
+to tell her mother her secret. Her heart was too sore to brave the
+rasping speech she would be certain to provoke. And with a widely
+different feeling, it was too rich in its prize to drag the treasure
+forth before scornful eyes. For this was part of Diana's experience,
+she found; and the feeling grew, the feeling of being rich in her
+secret possession; rich as she never had been before; perhaps the
+richer for the secresy. It was all hers, this beautiful, wonderful love
+that had come to her; this share in another person's heart and life;
+her own wholly; no one might intermeddle with her joy; she treasured it
+and gloated over it in the depths of her glad consciousness.
+
+And so, as the days went by, there was no change that her mother could
+see in the sweet lines of her daughter's face. Nothing less sweet than
+usual; nothing less bright and free; if the eyes had a deeper depth at
+times, it was not for Mrs. Starling to penetrate; and if the childlike
+play of the mouth had a curve of beauty that had never until then
+belonged to it, the archetype of such a sign did not lie in Mrs.
+Starling's nature. Yet once or twice a jealous movement of suspicion
+did rise in her, only because Diana seemed so happy. She reasoned with
+herself immediately that Evan's absence could never have such an
+effect, if her fears were true; and that the happiness must therefore
+be referred to some purely innocent cause. Nevertheless, Mrs. Starling
+watched. For she was pretty sure that the young soldier had pushed his
+advances while he had been in Pleasant Valley; and he might push them
+still, though there no longer. She would guard what could be guarded.
+She watched both Diana and other people, and kept an especial eye upon
+all that came from the post office.
+
+Evan had gone to a distant frontier post; the journey would take some
+time; and it would be several days more still, in the natural course of
+things, before Diana could have a letter. Diana reasoned out all that,
+and was not anxious. For the present, the pleasure of expecting was
+enough. A letter from _him;_ it was a fairylandish, weird, wonderful
+pleasure, to come to her. She took to studying the newspaper, and,
+covertly, the map. From the map she gained a little knowledge; but the
+columns of the paper were barren of all allusion to the matter which
+was her world, and Evan's. Newspapers are very partial sometimes. She
+was afraid to let her mother see how eagerly she scanned them. The map
+and Diana had secret and more satisfactory consultations. Measuring the
+probable route of Evan's journey by the scale of miles; calculating the
+rate of progress by different modes of travel; counting the nights, and
+places where he might spend them; she reckoned up over and over again
+the days that were probably necessary to enable him to reach his post.
+Then she allowed margins for what she did not know, and accounted for
+the blanks she could not fill up; and reasoned with herself about the
+engrossments which might on his first arrival hinder Evan from
+writing--for a few hours, or a night. So at last she had constructed a
+scheme by which she proved to herself the earliest day at which it
+would do to look for a letter, and the latest to which a letter might
+reasonably be delayed. Women do such things. How many men are worthy of
+it?
+
+That farthest limit was reached, and no letter yet.
+
+About that time, one morning the family at Elmfield were gathered at
+breakfast. It was not exactly like any other breakfast table in
+Pleasant Valley, for a certain drift from the great waves of the world
+had reached it; whereas the others were clean from any such contact.
+The first and the third generation were represented at the table; the
+second was wanting; the old gentleman, the head of the family, was
+surrounded by only his grand-daughters. Now old Mr. Bowdoin was as
+simple and plain-hearted a man as all his country neighbours, if
+somewhat richer than most of them; he had wrought at the same labour,
+and grown up with the same associations. He was not more respectable
+than respected; generous, honest, and kindly. But the young ladies, his
+grandchildren, Evan's sisters, were different. They came to spend the
+summer with him, and they brought fancies and notions from their
+far-away city life, which made a somewhat incongruous mixture with the
+elemental simplicity of their grandfather's house. All this appeared
+now. The old farmer's plain strong features, his homespun dress and his
+bowl of milk, were at one end of the table, where he presided heartily
+over the fried ham and eggs. Look where you would beside, and you saw
+ruffled chintzes and little fly-away breakfast-caps, and fingers with
+jewels on them. Miss Euphemia had her tresses of long hair unbound and
+unbraided, hanging down her back in a style that to her grandfather
+savoured of barbarism; he could not be made to understand that it was a
+token of the highest elegance. For these ladies there was some attempt
+at elaborate and dainty cookery, signified by sweetbreads and a puffed
+omelette; and Mrs. Reverdy presided over a coffee-pot that was the
+wonder of the Elmfield household, and even a little matter of pride to
+the old squire himself; though he covered it with laughing at her mimic
+fires and doubtful steam engines. Gertrude Masters was still at
+Elmfield, the only one left of a tribe of visitors who had made the old
+place gay through the summer.
+
+"I have had an invitation," said Mrs. Reverdy as she sent her
+grandfather his cup of coffee. And she laughed. I wish I could give the
+impression of this little laugh of hers, which, in company, was the
+attendant of most of her speeches. A little gracious laugh, with a
+funny air as if she were condescending, either to her subject or
+herself, and amused at it.
+
+"What is it, Vevay? what invitation?" inquired her sister; while
+Gertrude tossed her mass of tresses from her neck, and looked as if
+nothing at Pleasant Valley concerned _her_.
+
+"An invitation to the sewing society!" said Mrs. Reverdy. "We are all
+asked." And the laugh grew very amused indeed.
+
+"What do they do?" inquired Gertrude absently.
+
+"O, they bring their knitting at two or three o'clock,--and have a good
+time to tell all the news till five or six; and then they have supper,
+and then they put up their knitting and go home."
+
+"What news can they have to tell at Pleasant Valley?"
+
+"Whose hay is in first, and whose orchard will yield the most cider,"
+said Euphemia.
+
+"Yes; and how all their children are, and how many eggs go in a
+pudding."
+
+"I don't believe they make puddings with eggs very often," said the
+other sister again. "Their puddings are more like hasty puddings, I
+fancy."
+
+"Some of 'em make pretty good things," said old Mr. Bowdoin. "Things
+you can't beat, Phemie. There's Mrs. Mansfield--she's a capital
+housekeeper; and Mrs. Starling. _She_ can cook."
+
+"What do they expect you to do at the sewing meeting, Vevay?"
+
+"Show myself, I suppose," said Mrs. Reverdy.
+
+"Well, I guess I'd go," said her grandfather, looking at her. "It would
+be as good a thing as you could do."
+
+"Go, grandpa? O, how ridiculous!" exclaimed Mrs. Reverdy, with her
+pretty face all wrinkled up with amusement.
+
+"Go? yes. Why not?"
+
+"I don't know how to knit; and I shouldn't know how to talk orchards
+and puddings."
+
+"I think you had better go. It is not a knitting society, as I
+understand it; and I am sure you can be useful."
+
+"Useful!" echoed Mrs. Reverdy. "It's the last thing I know how to be.
+And I don't belong to the society, grandpa."
+
+"I shouldn't like them to think that," said the old gentleman. "You
+belong to me; and I belong to them, my dear."
+
+"Isn't it dreadful!" said Mrs. Reverdy in a low aside. "Now he's got
+this in his head--whatever am I going to do?--Suppose I invite them all
+to Elmfield; how would you like that, sir?" she added aloud.
+
+"Yes, my dear, yes," said the old gentleman, pushing back his chair;
+for the cup of coffee was the last part of his breakfast; "it would be
+well done, and I should be glad of it. Ask 'em all."
+
+"You are in for it now, Vevay," said Gertrude, when the ladies were
+left. "How will you manage?"
+
+"O, I'll give them a grand entertainment and send them away delighted,"
+said Mrs. Reverdy. "You see, grandpa wishes it; and I think it'll be
+fun."
+
+"Do you suppose Evan really paid attentions to that pretty girl we saw
+at the blackberrying?"
+
+"I don't know," Mrs. Reverdy answered. "He told me nothing about it. I
+should think Evan was crazy to do it; but men do crazy things. However,
+I don't believe it of him, Gerty. What nonsense!"
+
+"I can find out, if she comes," said Miss Masters. "You'll ask her,
+Genevieve?"
+
+So it fell out that an invitation to hold the next meeting of the
+sewing society at Elmfield was sent to the ladies accustomed to be at
+such meetings; and a great stir of expectation in consequence went
+through all Pleasant Valley. For Elmfield, whether they acknowledged it
+or not, was at the top of their social tree. The invitation came in due
+course to Mrs. Starling's house.
+
+It came not alone. Josiah brought it one evening on his return from the
+Corners, where the store and the post office were, and Mrs. Reverdy's
+messenger had fallen in with him and intrusted to him the note for Mrs.
+Starling. He handed it out now, and with it a letter of more bulk and
+pretensions, having a double stamp and an unknown postmark. Mrs.
+Starling received both and Josiah's explanations in silence, for her
+mind was very busy. Curious as she was to know upon what subject Mrs.
+Reverdy could possibly have written to her, she lingered yet with her
+eyes upon this other letter. It was directed to "Miss D. Starling."
+
+"That's a man's hand," said Mrs. Starling to herself. "He's had the
+assurance to go and write to her, I do believe!"
+
+She stood looking at it, doubtful, suspicious, uneasy; then turned into
+the dairy for fear Diana might surprise her, while she opened Mrs.
+Reverdy's note. She had a vague idea that both epistles might relate to
+the same subject. But this one was innocent enough, at least. Hiding
+the large letter in her bosom, she came back and gave the invitation to
+Diana, whose foot she had heard.
+
+"At Elmfield! What an odd thing! Will you go, mother?"
+
+"I always go, don't I? What's the reason I shouldn't go now?"
+
+"I didn't know whether you would like to go there."
+
+"What if I don't? No, I don't care particularly about goin' to
+Elmfield; they're a kind o' stuck up folks; but I'll go to let them see
+that I ain't."
+
+There was silence for a little; then Mrs. Starling broke it by
+inquiring if Diana had finished her chintz gown. Diana had.
+
+"I'd wear it, if I was you."
+
+"Why, mother?"
+
+"Let 'em see that other folks can dress as well as them."
+
+"O, mother, my dresses are nothing alongside of theirs."
+
+"What's the reason they ain't?" inquired Mrs. Starling, looking
+incredulous.
+
+"Their things are beautiful, mother; more costly a great deal; and
+fashionable. We can't make things so in Pleasant Valley. We don't know
+how."
+
+"I don't see any sense in that," rejoined Mrs. Starling. "One fashion's
+as good as another. Anyhow, there's better-lookin' folks in Pleasant
+Valley than ever called themselves Bowdoin, or Knowlton either. So be
+as smart as you can, Diana. I guess you needn't be ashamed of yourself."
+
+Diana thought of nothing less. Indeed she thought little about her
+appearance. While she was putting on her bright chintz dress, there was
+perhaps a movement of desire that she might seem pleasant in the eyes
+of Evan's people--something that _he_ need not be ashamed of; but her
+heart was too full of richer thoughts to have much room for such as
+these. For Evan had chosen her; Evan loved her; the secret bond between
+them nothing on earth could undo; and any day now that first letter of
+his might arrive, which her eyes were bright only to think of looking
+upon. Poor Diana! that letter was jammed up within the bones of Mrs.
+Starling's stays.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+
+A MEETING AT ELMFIELD.
+
+
+
+It was one of the royal days of a New England autumn; the air clear and
+bracing and spicy; the light golden and glowing, and yet softened to
+the dreamiest, richest, most bounteous aureole of hope, by a slight
+impalpable haze; too slight to veil anything, but giving its tender
+flattery to the landscape nevertheless. And through that to the mind.
+Who can help but receive it? Suggestions of waveless peace, of endless
+delight, of a world-full glory that must fill one's life with riches,
+come through such a light and under such a sky. Diana's life was full
+already; but she took the promise for all the years that stretched out
+in the future. The soft autumn sky where the clouds were at rest,
+having done their work, bore no symbol of the storms that might come
+beneath the firmament; the purple and gold and crimson of nature's gala
+dress seemed to fling their soft luxury around the beholder, enfolding
+him, as it were, from all the dust and the dimness and the dullness of
+this world's working days for evermore. So it was to Diana; and all the
+miles of that long drive, joggingly pulled along by Prince, she rode in
+a chariot of the imagination, traversing fields of thought and of
+space, now to Evan and now with him; and in her engrossment spoke never
+a word from the time she mounted into the waggon till they came in
+sight of Elmfield. And Mrs. Starling had her own subjects for thought,
+and was as silent on her part. She was thinking all the way what she
+should do with that letter. Suppose things had gone too far to be
+stopped? But Diana had told her nothing; she was not bound to know by
+guess-work. And if this were the _beginning_ of serious proposals, then
+it were better known to but herself only. She resolved finally to watch
+Diana and the Elmfield people this afternoon; she could find out, she
+thought, whether there were any matter of common interest between them.
+With all this, Mrs. Starling's temper was not sweetened.
+
+Elmfield was a rare place. Not by the work of art or the craft of the
+gardener at all; for a cunning workman had never touched its turf or
+its plantations. Indeed it had no plantations, other than such as were
+intended for pure use and profit; great fields of Indian corn, and
+acres of wheat and rye, and a plot of garden cabbages. Mrs. Reverdy's
+power of reform had reached only the household affairs. But the corn
+and the rye and the cabbages were out of sight from the immediate home
+field; and there the grace of nature had been so great that one almost
+forgot to wish that anything had been added to it. A little river
+swept, curving in sweet leisure, through a large level tract of
+greenest meadows. In front of one of these large curves the house
+stood, but well back, so that the meadow served instead of a lawn. It
+had no foreign beauties of tree growth to adorn it, nor needed them;
+for along the bank of the river, from space to space, irregularly, rose
+a huge New England elm, giving the shelter of its canopy of branches to
+a wide spot of turf. The house added nothing to the scene, beyond the
+human interest; it was just a large old farmhouse, nothing more;
+draped, however, and half covered up by other elms and a few fir trees.
+But in front of it lay this wide, sunny, level meadow, with the wilful
+little stream meandering through, with the stately old trees spotting
+it and breaking its monotony; and in the distance a soft outline of
+hills, not too far away, and varied enough to be picturesque, rounded
+in the whole picture. A picture one would stand long to look at;
+thoroughly New England and characteristic; gentle, homelike, lovely,
+with just a touch of wildness, intimating that you were beyond the
+rules of conventionality. Being New England folk themselves, Mrs.
+Starling and Diana of course would not read some of these features.
+They only thought it was a "fine place."
+
+Long before they got there this afternoon, before anybody got there,
+the ladies of the family gathered upon the wide old piazza.
+
+"It's as a good as a play," said Gertrude Masters. "I never saw such
+society in my life, and I am curious to know what they will be like."
+
+"You have seen them in church," said Euphemia.
+
+"Yes, but they all feel poky there. I can't tell anything by that.
+Besides, I don't hear them talk. There's somebody now!"
+
+"Too fast for any of our good sewing friends," said Mrs. Reverdy; "and
+there is no waggon. It's Mr. Masters, Gerty! How he does ride; and yet
+he sits as if he was upon a rocking-horse."
+
+"I don't think he'd sit very quiet upon a rocking-horse," said Gerty.
+And then she lifted up her voice and shouted musically a salutation to
+the approaching rider.
+
+He alighted presently at the foot of the steps, and throwing the bridle
+over his horse's head, joined the party.
+
+"So delighted!" said Mrs. Reverdy graciously. "You are come just in
+time to help us take care of the people."
+
+"Are you going to entertain the nation?" asked Mr Masters.
+
+"Only Pleasant Valley," Mrs. Reverdy answered with her little laugh;
+which might mean amusement at herself or condescension to Pleasant
+Valley. "Do you think they will be hard to entertain?"
+
+"I can answer for one," said the minister. "And looking at what there
+is to see from here, I could almost answer for them all." He was
+considering the wide sunlit meadow, where the green and the gold, yea,
+and the very elm shadows, as well as the distant hills, were
+spiritualized by the slight soft haze.
+
+"Why, what is there to see, Basil?" inquired his cousin Gertrude.
+
+"The sky."
+
+"You don't think that is entertaining, I hope? If you were a polite
+man, you would have said something else."
+
+She was something to see herself, in one sense, and the something was
+pretty, too; but very self-conscious. From her flow of curly tresses
+down to the rosettes on her slippers, every inch of her showed it. Now
+the best dressing surely avoids this effect; while there is some, and
+not bad dressing either, which proclaims it in every detail. The
+crinkles of Gertrude's hair were crisp with it; her French print dress,
+beautiful in itself, was made with French daintiness and worn with at
+least equal coquettishness; her wrists bore two or three bracelets both
+valuable and delicate; and Gertrude's eyes, pretty eyes too, were
+audacious with the knowledge of all this. Audacious in a sweet, secret
+way, understand; they were not bold eyes, openly. Her cousin looked her
+over, with a glance quite recognisant of all I have described, yet
+destitute of a shade of compliment or even of admiration; very clear
+and very cool.
+
+"Basil, you don't say all you think!" exclaimed the young lady.
+
+"Not always," said her cousin. "We have it on Solomon's authority, that
+a 'fool uttereth all his mind. A wise man keepeth it till afterwards.'"
+
+"What are you keeping?"
+
+But the answer was interrupted by Mrs. Reverdy.
+
+"Where shall we put them, do you think, Mr. Masters? I'm quite anxious.
+Here, on the verandah, do you think?--or on the green, where we mean to
+have supper? or would it be better to go into the house?"
+
+"As a general principle, Mrs. Reverdy, I object to houses. When you
+can, keep out of them. So I say. And there comes one of your guests. I
+will take my horse out of the road."
+
+Mrs. Reverdy objected and protested and ran to summon a servant, but
+the minister had his way and led his horse off to the stable. While he
+was gone, the little old green waggon which brought Miss Barry came at
+a soft jog up the drive and stopped before the door. Mrs. Reverdy came
+flying out and then down the steps to help her alight.
+
+"It's a long ways to your place, Mis' Reverdy; I declare, I'm kind o'
+stiff," said the old lady as she mounted to the piazza. There she stood
+still and surveyed the prospect. And her conclusion burst forth in an
+unequivocal, "Ain't it elegant!"
+
+"I am delighted you like it," said Mrs. Reverdy with her running laugh.
+"Won't you sit down?"
+
+"I hain't got straightened out yet, after drivin' the horse so long. It
+does put me in a kind o' cramp, somehow, to drive,--'most allays."
+
+"Is the horse so hard-mouthed?"
+
+"La! bless you, I never felt of his mouth. He don't do nothin'; I don't
+expect he would do nothin'; but I allays think he's a horse, and
+there's no tellin'."
+
+"That's very true," said Mrs. Reverdy, the laugh of condescending
+acquiescence mingled with a little sense of fun now. "But do sit down;
+you'll be tired standing."
+
+"There's Mrs. Flandin's waggin, I guess, comin'; she was 'most ready
+when I come by. Is this your sister?"--looking at Gertrude.
+
+"No, the other is my sister. This is Miss Masters; a cousin of your
+minister."
+
+"I thought she was, maybe,--your sister, I mean,--because she had her
+hair the same way. Ain't it very uncomfortable?" This to Gertrude.
+
+"It is very comfortable," said the young lady; "except in hot weather."
+
+"Don't say it is!" quoth Miss Barry, looking at the astonishing hair
+while she got out her needles. "Seems to me I should feel as if my hair
+never was combed."
+
+"Not if it _was_ combed, would you?" said Gertrude gravely.
+
+"Well, yes; seems to me I should. I allays liked to have my hair
+sleeked up as tight as I could get it; and then I knowed there warn't
+none of it flyin'. But la! it's a long time since I was young, and
+there's new fashions. Is the minister your cousin?"
+
+"Yes. How do you like him?"
+
+"I hain't got accustomed to him yet," said the little old lady,
+clicking her needles with a considerate air. "He ain't like Mr.
+Hardenburgh, you see; and Mr. Hardenburgh was the minister afore him."
+
+"What was the difference?"
+
+"Well--Mr. Hardenburgh, you could tell he was a minister as fur as you
+could see him; he had that look. Now Mr. Masters hain't; he's just like
+other folks; only he's more pleasant than most."
+
+"Oh, he is more pleasant, is he?"
+
+"Well, seems to me he is," said the little old lady. "It allays makes
+me feel kind o' good when he comes alongside. He's cheerful. Mr.
+Hardenburgh _was_ a good man, but he made me afeard of him; he was sort
+o' fierce, in the pulpit and out o' the pulpit. Mr. Masters ain't nary
+one."
+
+"Do you think he's a good preacher, then?" said Gertrude demurely,
+bending over to look at Miss Barry's knitting.
+
+"Well, I do!" said the old lady. "There! I ain't no judge; but I love
+to sit and hear him. 'Tain't a bit like a minister, nother, though it's
+in church; he just speaks like as I am speakin' to you; but he makes
+the Bible kind o' interestin'."
+
+It was very well for Gertrude that Mrs. Carpenter now came to take her
+seat on the piazza, and the conversation changed. She had got about as
+much as she could bear. And after Mrs. Carpenter came a crowd; Mrs.
+Flandin, and Mrs. Mansfield, and Miss Gunn, and all the rest, with
+short interval, driving up and unloading and joining the circle on the
+piazza; which grew a very wide circle indeed, and at last broke up into
+divisions. Gertrude was obliged to suspend operations for a while, and
+use her eyes instead of her tongue. Most of the rest were inclined to
+do the same; and curious glances went about in every direction, not
+missing Miss Masters herself. Some people were absolutely tongue-tied;
+others used their opportunity.
+
+"Don't the wind come drefful cold over them flats in winter?" asked one
+good lady who had never been at Elmfield before. Mrs. Reverdy's running
+little laugh was ready with her answer.
+
+"I believe it does; but we are never here in winter. It's too cold."
+
+"Your gran'ther's here, ain't he?" queried Mrs. Salter.
+
+"Yes, O yes; grandpa is here, of course. I don't suppose anything would
+draw him away from the old place."
+
+"How big is the farm?" went on the first speaker.
+
+Mrs. Reverdy did not know; three or four hundred acres, she believed.
+Or it might be five. She did not know the difference!
+
+"I guess your father misses you when you all go away," remarked Mrs.
+Flandin, who had hardly spoken, at least aloud.
+
+The reply was prevented, for Mrs. Starling's waggon drew up at the foot
+of the steps, and Mrs. Reverdy hastened down to give her assistance to
+the ladies in alighting. Gertrude also suspended what she was saying,
+and gave her undivided attention to the view of Diana.
+
+She was only a country girl, Miss Masters said to herself. Yet what a
+lovely figure, as she stood there before the waggon; perfectly
+proportioned, light and firm in action or attitude, with the grace of
+absolute health and strength and faultless make. More; there always is
+more to it; and Gertrude felt that without in the least having power to
+reason about it; felt in the quiet pose and soft motion those spirit
+indications of calm and strength and gracious dignity, which belonged
+to the fair proportions and wholesome soundness of the inward
+character. The face said the same thing when it was turned, and Diana
+came up the steps; though it was seen under a white sun-bonnet only;
+the straight brows, the large quiet eyes, the soft creamy colour of the
+skin, all testified to the fine physical and mental conditions of this
+creature. And Gertrude felt as she looked that it would not have been
+very surprising if Evan Knowlton or any other young officer had lost
+his heart to her. But she isn't dressed, thought Gertrude; and the next
+moment a shadow crossed her heart as Diana's sun-bonnet came off, and a
+wealth of dark hair was revealed, knotted into a crown of nature's
+devising, which art could never outdo. "I'll find out about Evan," said
+Miss Masters to herself.
+
+
+She had to wait. The company was large now, and the buzz of tongues
+considerable; though nothing like what had been in Mrs. Starling's
+parlour. So soon as the two new-comers were fairly seated and at work,
+Mrs. Flandin took up the broken thread of her discourse.
+
+"Ain't your father kind o' lonesome here in the winters, all by
+himself?"
+
+"My grandfather, you mean?" said Mrs. Reverdy,
+
+"I mean your grandfather. I forget you ain't his own; but it makes no
+difference. Don't he want you to hum all the year round?"
+
+"I daresay he would like it."
+
+"He's gettin' on in years now. How old is Squire Bowdoin?"
+
+"I don't know," said Mrs. Reverdy. "He's between seventy and eighty,
+somewhere."
+
+"You won't have him long with you."
+
+"O, I hope so!" said Mrs. Reverdy lightly, and with the unfailing laugh
+which went with everything; "I think grandpa is stronger than I am. I
+shouldn't wonder if he'd outlive _me_."
+
+"Still, don't you think it is your duty to stay with him?"
+
+Mrs. Reverdy laughed again. "I suppose we don't always do our duty,"
+she said. "It's too cold here in the winter--after October or
+September--for me."
+
+"Then it is not your duty to be here," said her sister Euphemia,
+somewhat distinctly. But Mrs. Flandin was bound to "free her mind" of
+what was upon it.
+
+"I should think the Squire'd want Evan to hum," she went on.
+
+"It would be very nice if Evan could be in two places at once," Mrs.
+Reverdy owned conciliatingly.
+
+"Where _is_ Captain Knowlton now?" asked Mrs. Boddington.
+
+"O, he is not a captain yet," said Mrs. Reverdy. "He is only a
+lieutenant. I don't know when he'll get any higher than that. He's a
+great way off--on the frontier--watching the Indians."
+
+"I should think it was pleasanter work to watch sheep," said Mrs.
+Flandin "Don't it make you feel bad to have him away so fur?"
+
+"O, we're accustomed to having him away, you know; Evan has never been
+at home; we really don't know him as well as strangers do. We have just
+got a letter from him at his new post."
+
+They had got a letter from him! Two bounds Diana's heart made: the
+first with a pang of pain that they should have the earliest word; the
+next with a pang of joy, at the certainty that hers must be lying in
+the post office for her. The blood flowed and ebbed in her veins with
+the violent action of extreme excitement. Yet nature did for this girl
+what only the practice and training of society do for others; she gave
+no outward sign. Her head was not lifted from her work; the colour of
+her cheek did not change; and when a moment after she found Miss
+Masters at her side, and heard her speaking, Diana looked and answered
+with the utmost seeming composure.
+
+"I've been trying ever since you came to get round to you," Gertrude
+whispered. "I'm so glad to see you again."
+
+But here Mrs. Flandin broke in. She was seated near.
+
+"Ain't your hair a great trouble to you?"
+
+Gertrude gave it a little toss and looked up.
+
+"How do you get it all flying like that?"
+
+"Everybody's hair is a trouble," said Gertrude. "This is as little as
+any."
+
+"Do you sleep with it all round your shoulders? I should think you'd be
+in a net by morning."
+
+"I suppose you would," said Gertrude.
+
+"Is that the fashion now?"
+
+"It is one fashion," Miss Masters responded.
+
+"If it warn't, I reckon you'd do it up pretty quick. Dear me! what a
+thing it is to be in the fashion, I do suppose."
+
+"Don't you like it yourself, ma'am?" queried Gertrude.
+
+"Never try. _I've_ something else to do in life."
+
+"Well, but there's no _harm_ in being in the fashion, Mis' Flandin,"
+said Miss Gunn. "The minister said he thought there warn't."
+
+"The minister had better take care of himself," Mrs. Flandin retorted.
+
+Whereupon they all opened upon her. And it could be seen that for the
+few months during which he had been among them, the minister had made
+swift progress in the regards of the people. Scarce a tongue now but
+spoke in his praise or his justification, or called Mrs. Flandin to
+account for her hasty remark.
+
+"When you're all done, I'll speak," said that lady coolly. "I'm not a
+man-worshipper--never was; and nobody's fit to be worshipped. _I_
+should like to see the dominie put down that grey horse of his."
+
+"Are grey horses fashionable?" inquired Mrs. Reverdy, with her little
+laugh.
+
+"What would he do without his horse?" said Mrs. Boddington. "How could
+he fly round Pleasant Valley as he does?"
+
+"He ain't bound to fly," said Mrs. Flandin.
+
+"How's he to get round to folks, then?" said Mrs. Salter. "The houses
+are pretty scattering in these parts; he'd be a spry man if he could
+walk it."
+
+"Seems to me, that 'ere grey hoss is real handy," said quiet Miss
+Barry, who never contradicted anybody. "When Meliny was sick, Mr.
+Masters'd be there, to our house, early in the mornin' and late at
+night; and he allays had comfort with him. There! I got to set as much
+by the sight o' that grey hoss, you wouldn't think; just to hear him
+come gallopin' down the road did me good."
+
+"Yes; and so it was to our house, when Liz was overturned," said Mary
+Delamater. "He'd be there every day, just as punctual as could be; and
+he could never have walked over. It's a cruel piece of road between our
+house and his'n."
+
+"I don't want him to walk," said Mrs. Flandin; "there's more ways than
+one o' doin' most things; but I _do_ say, all the ministers ever I see
+druv a team; and it looks more religious. To see the minister flyin'
+over the hills like a racer is altogether too gay for my likin's."
+
+"But he ain't gay," said Miss Gunn, looking appalled.
+
+"He's mighty spry, for anybody that gets up into a pulpit on the
+Sabbath and tells his fellow-creaturs what they ought to be doin'."
+
+"But he does do that, Mrs. Flandin," said Diana. "He speaks plain
+enough, too."
+
+"I _do_ love to hear him!" said Miss Barry. "There, his words seem to
+go all through me, and clear up my want of understandin'; for I never
+was smart, you know; but seems to me I see things as well agin when
+he's been talkin' to me. I say, it was a good day when he come to
+Pleasant Valley."
+
+"He ain't what you call an eloquent man," said Miss Babbage, the
+schoolmaster's sister.
+
+"What is an 'eloquent man,' Lottie Babbage?" Mrs. Boddington asked.
+"It's a word, I know; but what is the thing the word means? Come, you
+ought to be good at definitions."
+
+"Mr. Masters don't pretend to be an eloquent man!" cried Mrs. Carpenter.
+
+"Well, tell; come! what do you mean by it? I'd like to know," said Mrs.
+Boddington. "I admire to get my idees straight. What is it he don't
+pretend to be?"
+
+"I don't think he pretends to be anything," said Diana.
+
+"Only to have his own way wherever he goes," added Diana's mother.
+
+"I'd be content to let him have his own way," said Mrs. Carpenter.
+"It's pretty sure to be a good way; that's what _I_ think. I wisht he
+had it, for my part."
+
+"And yet he isn't eloquent?" said Mrs. Boddington.
+
+"Well," said Miss Babbage with some difficulty, "he just says what he
+has got to say, and takes the handiest words he can find; but I've
+heard men that eloquent that they'd keep you wonderin' at 'em from the
+beginning of their sermon to the end; and you'd got to be smart to know
+what they were sayin'. A child can tell what Mr. Masters means."
+
+"So kin I," said Miss Barry. "I'm thankful I kin. And I don't want a
+man more eloquent than he is, for my preachin'."
+
+"It ain't movin' preachin'," said Mrs. Flandin.
+
+"It moves the folks," said Mrs. Carpenter. "I don't know what you'd
+hev', Mis' Flandin; there's Liz Delamater, and Florry Mason, jined the
+church lately; and old Lupton; and my Jim," she added with softened
+voice; "and there's several more serious."
+
+No more could be said, for the minister himself came upon the scene at
+this instant. There was not an eye that did not brighten at the sight
+of him, with the exception of Mrs. Starling and Diana; there was not a
+lady there who was not manifestly glad to have him come near and speak
+to her; even Mrs. Flandin herself, beside whom the minister presently
+sat down and entered into conversation respecting some new movement in
+parish matters, for which he wished to enlist her help. General
+conversation returned to its usual channels.
+
+"I can't stand this," whispered Gertrude to Diana; "I am tired to
+death. Do come down and walk over to the river with me. Do! you can
+work another day."
+
+Diana hesitated; glanced around her. It was manifest that this was an
+exceptional meeting of the society, and not for the purposes of work
+chiefly. Here and there needles were suspended in lingering fingers,
+while their owners made subdued comments to each other or used their
+eyes for purposes of information getting. One or two had even left
+work, and were going to the back of the house, through the hall, to see
+the garden. Diana not very unwillingly dropped her sewing, and followed
+her conductor down the steps and over the meadow.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+
+CATECHIZING.
+
+
+
+"The sun isn't hot, through all this cloud," said Gertrude, "so I don't
+mind it. We'll get into the shade under the elm yonder."
+
+"There is no cloud," said Diana.
+
+"No cloud? What is it then? _Something_ has come over the sun."
+
+"No, it's haze."
+
+"What is haze?"
+
+"I don't know. We have it in Indian summer, and sometimes in October,
+like this."
+
+"Isn't it hot?" said Gertrude; "and last week we were having big fires.
+It's such queer weather. Now this shade is nice."
+
+Under one or two of the elm canopies along the verge of the little
+river some rustic seats had been fixed. Gertrude sat down. Diana stood,
+looking about her. The dreamy beauty through which she had ridden that
+afternoon was all round her still; and the meadow and the scattered
+elms, with the distant softly-rounded hills, were one of New England's
+combinations, in which the gentlest beauty and the most characteristic
+strength meet and mingle. But what was more yet to Diana, she was among
+Evan's haunts. Here _he_ was at home. There seemed to her fancy to be a
+consciousness of him in the silent trees and river; as if they would
+say if they could,--as if they were saying mutely,--"We know him--we
+know him; and we are old friends of his. We could tell you a great deal
+about him."
+
+"Elmfield is a pretty place," said Gertrude. She had been eyeing her
+companion while Diana was receiving the confidences of the trees.
+
+"Lovely!"
+
+"If it didn't grow so cold in winter," said the young lady, shrugging
+her airy shoulders.
+
+"I like the cold."
+
+"I should like to have it always hot enough to wear muslin dresses.
+Come, sit down. Evan put these seats here."
+
+But Diana continued standing.
+
+"Did you hear that woman scolding because he don't stay here and give
+up his army life?"
+
+"She takes her own view of it," said Diana.
+
+"Do _you_ think he ought to give up everything to take care of his
+grandfather?"
+
+"I daresay his grandfather likes to have him do as he is doing."
+
+"But it must be awfully hard, mustn't it, for them to have him so far
+away, and fighting the Indians?"
+
+"Is he fighting the Indians?" Diana asked quietly; though she made the
+words quiet, she knew, by sheer force of necessity. But quiet they
+were; slow, and showing no eagerness; while her pulse had made one mad
+jump, and then seemed to stand still.
+
+"O, the Indians are always making trouble, you know, on the frontier;
+that's what our men are there for, to watch them. I didn't mean that
+Evan was fighting just at this minute; but he might be, any minute.
+Shouldn't you feel bad if he was your brother?"
+
+"Mrs. Reverdy doesn't seem to be uneasy."
+
+"She? no," said Gertrude with a laugh; "nothing makes _her_ uneasy.
+Except thinking that Evan has fallen in love with somebody."
+
+"She must expect that sooner or later," said Diana, with a calmness
+which told her companion nothing.
+
+"Ah, but she would rather have it later. She don't want to lose Evan.
+She is very proud of him."
+
+"Would she lose him in such a case?" Diana asked, smiling, though she
+wished the talk ended.
+
+"Why, you know brothers are good for nothing to sisters after they are
+married--worse! they are tantalizing. You are obliged to see what you
+used to have in somebody else's possession--and much more than ever you
+used to have; and it's tiresome. I'm glad I've no brothers. Basil is a
+good deal like a brother, and I am jealous of _him_."
+
+"It must be very uncomfortable to be jealous," said Diana,
+
+"Horrid! You saw a good deal of Evan, didn't you?"
+
+A question that might have embarrassed Diana if she had not had an
+instant perception of the intent of it. She answered thereupon with
+absolute self-possession,
+
+"I don't know what you would call a 'good deal.' I saw what _I_ call a
+good deal of him that day in the blackberry field."
+
+"Don't you think he is charming?"
+
+Diana laughed, and was vexed to feel her cheeks grow warm.
+
+"That's a word that belongs to women."
+
+"Not to many of 'em!" said Gertrude, with a slight turning up of her
+pretty nose. Then, struck with the fine, pure face and very lovely
+figure before her, she suddenly added, "Didn't he think you charming?"
+
+"Are you laughing at me?" said Diana.
+
+"No, indeed I am not. Didn't he?" said Gertrude caressingly.
+
+Amusement almost carried off the temptation to be provoked. Diana
+laughed merrily as she answered, "Do you think a person of so good
+taste would?"
+
+"Yes, I do," said Gertrude, half sulkily, for she was baffled, and
+besides, her words spoke the truth. "I am sure he did. Isn't life very
+stupid up here in the mountains, when visitors are all gone away?"
+
+"I don't think so. We never depend upon visitors."
+
+"It has been awfully slow at Elmfield since Mr. Knowlton went away. We
+sha'n't stay much longer. I can't live where I can't dance."
+
+"What is that?" said a voice close at hand--a peculiarly clear, silvery
+voice.
+
+"Cousin Basil!" cried Gertrude, starting. "What did you come here for?
+I brought Miss Starling here to have a good talk with her."
+
+"Have you had it?"
+
+"I haven't had time. I was just beginning."
+
+"What! about dancing?"
+
+"I was not speaking for you to hear. I was relieving myself by the
+confession that I can't live--happily, I mean--without it."
+
+"Choice of partners immaterial?"
+
+"I couldn't bear a dull life!"
+
+"Nor I."
+
+He looked as if he certainly did not know what dulness was, Diana
+thought. She listened, much amused.
+
+"But you think it is wrong to dance, don't you?" Gertrude went on.
+
+"'Better not' is wrong to a Christian," he replied.
+
+"It must be dreadful to be a Christian!"
+
+"Because--?" he said, with a quiet and good-humoured glance and tone of
+inquiry.
+
+"O, because it is slavery. So many things you cannot do, and dresses
+you cannot wear."
+
+"By what rule?" Mr. Masters asked.
+
+"O, people think you are dreadful if you do those things; the Church,
+and all that. So I think it is a great deal better to keep out of it,
+and make no pretensions."
+
+"Better to keep out of what? let me understand," said the minister.
+"You are getting my ideas in a very involved state."
+
+"No, I am not! I say, it is better to make no profession."
+
+"Better than what? What is the alternative?"
+
+"O, you know. Now you are catechizing me. It is better to make no
+profession, than to make it and not live up to it."
+
+"I understand. That is to say, it is wicked to pay your debts with
+counterfeit notes, so it is better not to pay them at all."
+
+"Nonsense, Basil! I am not talking of paying debts."
+
+"But I am."
+
+"What have debts got to do with it?"
+
+"I beg your pardon. I understood you to declare your disapprobation of
+false money, and your preference for another sort of dishonesty."
+
+"Dishonest, Basil! there is no dishonesty."
+
+"By what name do you call it?"
+
+He was speaking gravely, though with a surface pleasantry; both gravity
+and pleasantry were of a very winning kind. Diana looked on and
+listened, much interested, as well as amused; Gertrude puzzled and
+impatient, though unable to resist the attraction. She hesitated, and
+surveyed him.
+
+"There can't be dishonesty unless where one owes something."
+
+"Precisely"--he said, glancing at her. His hands were busy at the time
+with a supple twig he had cut from one of the trees, which he was
+trimming of its leaves and buds.
+
+"What do I owe?" said the beauty, throwing her tresses of hair off from
+her shoulders.
+
+He waited a bit, the one lady looking defiant, the other curious; and
+then he said, with a sort of gentle simplicity that was at the same
+time uncompromising,
+
+"'The Lord hath made all things for himself.'"
+
+Gertrude's foot patted the turf; after a minute she answered,
+
+"Of course you say that because you are a clergyman."
+
+"No, I don't. I am stating a fact, which I thought it likely you had
+forgotten."
+
+Gertrude stood up, as if she had got enough of the conversation. Diana
+wished for another word.
+
+"It is a fact," she said; "but what have we to do with it?"
+
+"Only to let the Lord have his own," said the minister with a full look
+at her.
+
+"How do you mean, Mr. Masters? I don't understand."
+
+Gertrude was marching over the grass, leading to the house. The other
+two followed.
+
+"When you have contrived and made a thing, you reckon it is your own,
+don't you? and when you have bought something, you think it is at your
+disposal?"
+
+"Certainly; but"--
+
+"'_You_ were bought with a price.'"
+
+"Of course, God has a right to dispose of us," Diana assented in an "of
+course" way.
+
+"_Does_ he?" said the minister. Then, seeing her puzzled expression, he
+went on--"He cannot dispose of you as he wishes, without your consent."
+
+Diana stopped short, midway in the meadow. "I do not in the least
+understand, Mr. Masters," she said. "How does He wish to dispose of me?"
+
+"When you are his own, he will let you know," said the minister,
+beginning to stroll onward again; and no more words passed till they
+were nearing the house, when he said suddenly, "Whom do you think you
+belong to now?"
+
+Diana's thought made an instant leap at the words, a leap over hundreds
+of miles of intervening space, and alighted beside a fine officer-like
+figure in a dark blue military coat with straps on the shoulders. That
+was where she "belonged," she thought; and a soft rose colour mantled
+on her cheek, and deepened, half with happiness, halt with pride. The
+question that had provoked it was forgotten; and the neighbourhood of
+the house was now too near to allow of the inquiry being pressed or
+repeated. The minister, indeed, was aware that for some time he and his
+companion had been facing a battery; but Diana was in happy
+unconsciousness; it was the thought of nothing present or near which
+made her eyes droop and her cheeks take on such a bloom of loveliness.
+
+
+Among the eyes that beheld, Mrs. Starling's had not been the least
+keen, though she watched without seeming to watch. She saw how the
+minister and her daughter came slowly over the meadow, engaged with
+each other's conversation, while Miss Masters tripped on before them.
+She noticed the pause in their walk, Diana's slow, thoughtful step; and
+then, as they came near, her flush and her downcast eye.
+
+"The minister's talk's very interestin'," whispered Mrs. Carpenter in
+her ear.
+
+"Not to me," said Mrs. Starling, wilfully misunderstanding. "Some folks
+thinks so, I know. I can't somehow never get along with him."
+
+"And Diana sha'n't," was her inward resolve; "but she can't be thinkin'
+of the other feller."
+
+As if to try the question, at the moment, Mrs. Reverdy appeared at the
+top of the steps, just as the minister and Diana got to the foot of
+them. She was in high glee, for her party was going off nicely, and the
+tables were just preparing for supper.
+
+"We want nothing now but Evan," she said with her unfailing laugh.
+"Miss Starling, don't you think he might have come for this afternoon,
+just to see so many friends?"
+
+Diana never knew where she got the coolness to answer, "How long a
+journey is it, Mrs. Reverdy?"
+
+"O, I don't know! How far is it, Mr. Masters?--a thousand miles?--or
+two thousand? I declare I have no idea. But love laughs at distances,
+they say."
+
+"Is Cupid a contractor on this road?" inquired the minister gravely.
+
+"A contractor!" exclaimed Mrs. Reverdy, laughing, "oh, dear, what a
+funny idea! I never thought of putting it so. But I didn't know but
+Miss Starling could tell us."
+
+"Do you know anything about it, Miss Diana?" asked the minister.
+
+"About what?"
+
+"Why Lieutenant Knowlton is not here this afternoon?"
+
+Diana knew that several pairs of eyes were upon her. It was a dangerous
+minute. But she had failed to discern in Mrs. Reverdy or in Gertrude
+any symptom of more than curiosity; and curiosity she felt she could
+meet and baffle. It was impertinent, and it was unkind. So, though her
+mind was at a point which made it close steering, she managed to sheer
+off from embarrassment and look amused. She laughed in the eyes that
+were watching her, and answered carelessly enough to Mr. Masters'
+question that she "dared say Mr. Knowlton would have come if he could."
+Mrs. Starling put up her work with a sigh of relief; and the rest of
+the persons concerned felt free to dismiss the subject from their minds
+and pay attention to the supper.
+
+It was a great success, Mrs. Reverdy's sewing party. The excellent
+entertainment provided was heartily enjoyed, all the more for the
+little stimulus of curiosity which hung about every article and each
+detail of the tea-table. Old Mr. Bowdoin delighted himself in
+hospitable attentions to his old neighbours, and was full of genial and
+gratified talk with them. The stiffness of the afternoon departed
+before the tea and coffee; and when at last the assembly broke up, and
+a little file of country waggons drove away, one after another, from
+the door, it was with highly gratified loads of people.
+
+Diana may be quoted as a single exception. In the tremor of her spirits
+which followed the bit of social navigation noticed above, she had
+hardly known how anything tasted at the supper; and the talk she had
+heard without hearing. There was nothing but relief in getting away.
+
+The drive home was as silent between her and her mother as the drive
+out had been. Mrs. Starling was full of her own cogitations. Diana's
+thoughts were not like that,--hard-twisted and hard-knotted lines of
+argument, growing harder and more twisted towards their end; but wide
+flowing and soft changing visions, flowing sweet and free as the clouds
+borne on the air-currents of heaven; catching such colours, and
+drifting as insensibly from one form into another. The evening kept up
+the dreamy character of the afternoon, the haze growing duskier as the
+light waned; till the tender gleam of a full moon began to supply here
+and there the glory of the lost sunlight. It was a colder gleam,
+though; and so far, more practical than that flush of living promise
+which a little while ago had filled the sky and the world. Diana's
+thoughts centred on Evan's letter. Where was it? When should she get
+it? Josiah, she knew, had been to the post office that morning, and
+brought home nothing! She wished she could go to the post office
+herself; she sometimes had done so; but she would not like to take
+Evan's letter, either, from the knowing hands of the postmaster. She
+might not be able to command her looks perfectly.
+
+"They don't know how to make soda biscuit down yonder," Mrs. Starling
+broke out abruptly, just as their drive was near ended.
+
+"Don't they?" said Diana absently.
+
+"All yellow!" said Mrs. Starling disdainfully. "Nobody would ever know
+there was any salaratus in _my_ biscuit--or in yours either."
+
+"Except from the lightness, mother."
+
+"The lightness wouldn't tell what made 'em light," said Mrs. Starling
+logically. "They had salaratus in their pickles too."
+
+"How could you tell?"
+
+"Tell? As if I couldn't tell! Tell by the colour."
+
+"Ours are green too."
+
+"Not green like that. I would despise to make my pickles green that
+way. I'd as soon paint 'em."
+
+"It was very handsome, mother, the supper altogether."
+
+"Hm! It was a little too handsome," said Mrs. Starling, "and that was
+what they liked about it. I'd like to know what is the use o' having
+great clumsy forks of make-believe silver"--
+
+"O, they were real, mother."
+
+"Well, the more fools if they were. I'd like to know what is the use of
+having great clumsy forks of silver, real or make-believe, when you can
+have nice, sharp, handy steel ones, and for half or a quarter the
+price?"
+
+Diana liked the silver forks, and was silent.
+
+"I could hardly eat my pickles with 'em. I couldn't, if they had been
+_mine;_ but Genevieve's cucumbers were spongy."
+
+To Diana's relief, their own door was gained at this moment. She did
+not know what her mother's discourse might end in, and was glad to have
+it stopped. Yet the drive had been pretty!
+
+The men had had their supper, which had been left ready for them; and
+Josiah's care had kept up a blazing fire in the lean-to kitchen. Diana
+went up-stairs to change her dress, for she had the dishes now to wash
+up; and Mrs. Starling stood in front of the fire-place, pondering. She
+had been pondering all the time of the drive home, as well as much of
+the time spent at Elmfield; she believed she had come to a conclusion;
+and yet she delayed her purpose. It was clear, she said to herself,
+that Diana did not care for Lieut. Knowlton; at least not much; her
+fancy might have been stirred. But what is a girl's fancy? Nothing
+worth considering. Letters, if allowed, might nourish the fancy up into
+something else. She would destroy this first one. She had determined on
+that. Yet she lingered. Conscience spoke uneasily. What if she were
+misled by appearances, and Diana had more than a fancy for this young
+fellow? Then she would crush it! Nobody would be the wiser, and nobody
+would die of grief; those things were done in stories only. Mrs.
+Starling hesitated nevertheless, with her hand on the letter, till the
+sound of Diana's step in the house decided her action. She was afraid
+to wait; some accident might overthrow all her arrangements; and with a
+hasty movement she drew the packet from her bosom and tucked it under
+the fofestick, where a bed of glowing nutwood coals lay ready. Quick
+the fire caught the light tindery edges, made a little jet of
+excitement about the large wax seal, fought its way through the thick
+folds of paper, and in a moment had left only a mock sheet of cinder,
+with mock marks of writing still traceable vividly upon it. A letter
+still, manifestly, sharp-edged and square; it glowed at Mrs. Starling
+from its bed of coals, with the curious impassiveness of material
+things; as if the happiness of two lives had not shrivelled within it.
+Mrs. Starling stood looking. What had been written upon that fiery
+scroll? It was vain to ask now; and hearing Diana coming down-stairs,
+she took the tongs and punched the square cinder that kept its form too
+well. Little bits of paper, grey cinder with red edges, fluttered in
+the draught, and flew up in the smoke.
+
+"What are you burning there, mother?" said Diana.
+
+And Mrs. Starling answered a guilty "Nothing," and walked away. Diana
+looked at the little fluttering cinders, and an uneasy sensation came
+over her, that yet took no form of suspicion; and passed, for the thing
+was impossible. So near she came to it.
+
+
+Why had Mrs. Starling not at least read the letter before destroying
+it? The answer lies in some of the strange, hidden involutions of
+feeling and consciousness, which are hard to trace out even by the
+person who knows them best. After the thing was done, she wished she
+had read it. It may be she feared to find what would stay her hand, or
+make her action difficult. It may be that certain stirrings of
+conscience warned her that delay might defeat her whole purpose. She
+was an obstinate woman, by nature; obstinate to the point of wilful
+blindness when necessary; and to do her justice, she was perfectly
+incapable of estimating the gain or the loss of such an affection as
+Diana's, or of sympathizing with the suffering such a nature may know.
+It was not in her; she had no key to it; grant the utmost mischief that
+she supposed it even possible she might be doing, and it was as a
+summer gale to the cyclone of the Indian seas.
+
+So her conscience troubled her little, and that little was soon
+silenced. Perhaps not quite forgotten; for it had the effect, not to
+make her more than usual tender of her daughter and indulgent towards
+her, as one would expect, but stern, carping and exacting beyond all
+her wont. She drove household matters with a tighter rein than ever,
+and gave Diana as little time for private thought or musing as the
+constant and engrossing occupation of her hands could leave free. But,
+however, thoughts are not chained to fingers. Alas! what troubled
+calculations Diana worked into her butter, those weeks; and how many
+heavy possibilities she shook down from her fingers along with the
+drops of water she scattered upon the clothes for the ironing. Her very
+nights at last became filled with the anxious cogitations that never
+ceased all the day; and Diana awoke morning after morning unrefreshed
+and weary from her burdened sleep, and from dreams that reproduced in
+fantastic combinations the perplexities of her waking life. Her face
+began to grow shadowed and anxious, and her tongue was still. Mrs.
+Starling had generally done most of the talking; she did it all now.
+
+Days passed on, and weeks. Mrs. Starling did not find out that anything
+was the matter with Diana; partly because she was determined that
+nothing should be the matter; and partly because young Flandin came
+about the house a good deal, and Mrs. Starling thought Diana to be
+vexed, or perhaps in a state of vexed indecision about him. And in
+addition, she was a little anxious herself, lest another letter should
+come and somehow reach the hands it was meant for. Having gone so far
+already, Mrs. Starling did not mean to spoil or lose her work for want
+of a few finishing touches. She watched the post office as never in her
+life, for any cause, she had watched it before.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+
+IS IT WELL WITH THEE?
+
+
+
+Diana would have written to Mr. Knowlton to get her mystery solved; she
+was far too simple and true to stand upon needless punctilio; but she
+did not know how to address to him a letter. Evan himself had not known
+when he parted from her; the information came in that epistle that
+never reached her hands, that first letter. Names and directions had
+all perished in the flames, and for want of them Diana could do
+nothing. Meanwhile, what would Evan think? He would expect an answer,
+and a quick answer, to his letter; he was looking for it now, no doubt;
+wondering why it did not come, and disappointed, and fearing something
+wrong. That trouble, of fearing something wrong, Diana was spared; for
+she knew the family at Elmfield had heard, and all was well; but
+sometimes her other troublesome thoughts made her powerless hands come
+together with a clasp of wild pain. How long must she wait now? how
+long would Evan wait, before in desperation he wrote again? And where
+was her letter? for it had been written and sent; that she knew;--was
+it lost? was it stolen? Had somebody's curiosity prevailed so far, and
+was her precious secret town property by this time? Every day became
+harder to bear; every week made the suspense more intolerable. Mrs.
+Starling was far out in one of her suppositions. Will Flandin came a
+good deal about the house, it is true; but Diana hardly knew he was
+there. If she thought about it at all, she was half glad, because his
+presence might serve to mask her silence and abstraction. She was
+conscious of both, and the effort to cover the one and hide the other
+was very painful sometimes.
+
+October glories were passed away, and November days grew shorter and
+shorter, colder and more dreary. It seemed now and then to Diana that
+summer had gone to a distance from which it would never revisit her.
+And after those days of constant communication with Evan, the blank
+cessation of it, the ignorance of all that had befallen or was
+befalling him, the want of a word of remembrance or affection, grew
+almost to a blank of despair.
+
+It was late in the month.
+
+"What waggon's that stopping?" exclaimed Mrs. Starling one afternoon.
+Mother and daughter were in the lean-to. Diana looked out, and saw with
+a pang of various feelings what waggon it was.
+
+"Ain't that the Elmfield folks?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"I know so. I thought Mrs. Reverdy and the rest had run away from the
+cold."
+
+"Didn't you know Miss Masters had been sick?"
+
+"How should I know it?"
+
+"I heard so. I didn't know but you had heard it."
+
+"I can't hear things without somebody tells me. Go along up-stairs,
+Diana, and put on something."
+
+Diana obeyed, but she was very quick about it; she was nervously afraid
+lest while she was absent some word should be said that she would not
+have lost for the whole world. What had they come for, these people?
+Was the secret out, perhaps, and had they come to bring her a letter?
+Or to say why Evan had not written? Could he have been sick? A feverish
+whirlwind of thoughts rushed through Diana's head while she was
+fastening her dress; and she went down and came into the parlour with
+two beautiful spots of rose colour upon her cheeks. They were
+fever-spots. Diana had been pale of late; but she looked gloriously
+handsome as she entered the room. Bad for her. A common-looking woman
+might have heard news from Evan; the instant resolve in the hearts of
+the two ladies who had come to visit her was, that this girl should
+hear none.
+
+They were, however, exceedingly gracious and agreeable. Mrs. Reverdy
+entered with flattering interest into all the matters of household and
+farm detail respecting which Mrs. Starling chose to be communicative;
+responded with details of her own. How it was impossible to get good
+butter made, unless you made it yourself. How servants were
+unsatisfactory, even in Pleasant Valley; and how delightful it was to
+be able to do without them, as Mrs. Starling did and Diana.
+
+"I should like it of all things," said Mrs. Reverdy with her unfailing
+laugh; a little, well-bred, low murmur of a laugh. "It must be so
+delightful to have your biscuits always light and never tasting of
+soda; and your butter always as if it was made of cowslips; and your
+eggs always fresh. We never have fresh eggs," continued Mrs. Reverdy,
+shaking her head solemnly;--"never. I never dare to have them boiled."
+
+"What becomes of them?" said a new voice; and Mr. Masters entered the
+field--in other words, the room. Diana's heart contracted with a pang;
+was this another hindrance in the way of her hearing what she wanted?
+But the rest of the ladies welcomed him.
+
+"Charming!" said Mrs. Reverdy; "now you will go home with us."
+
+"I don't see just on what you found your conclusion."
+
+"O, you will have made your visit to Mrs. Starling, you know; and then
+you will have nothing else to do."
+
+"There spoke a woman of business!" said the minister.
+
+"Yes, why not?" said the lady. "I was just telling Mrs. Starling how I
+should delight to do as she does, without servants, and how pleasant I
+should find it; only, you know, I shouldn't know how to do anything if
+I tried." Mrs. Reverdy seemed to find the idea very entertaining.
+
+"You wouldn't like to get up in the morning to make your biscuits,"
+said Gertrude.
+
+"O yes, I would! I needn't have breakfast very early, you know."
+
+"The good butter wouldn't be on the table if you didn't," said Mrs.
+Starling.
+
+"Wouldn't it? Why? Does it matter when butter is made, if it is only
+made right?"
+
+"No; but the trouble is, it cannot be made right after the sun is an
+hour or two high."
+
+"An hour or two!" Mrs. Reverdy uttered a little scream.
+
+"Not at this time of year, mother," interposed Diana.
+
+"Do you get up at these fearful times?" inquired Miss Masters
+languidly, turning her eyes full upon the latter speaker.
+
+Diana scarce answered. Would all the minutes of their visit pass in
+these platitudes? could nothing else be talked of? The next instant she
+blessed Mr. Masters.
+
+"Have you heard from the soldier lately?" he asked.
+
+"O yes! we hear frequently," Mrs. Reverdy said.
+
+"He likes his post?"
+
+"I really don't know," said her sister, laughing; "a soldier can't
+choose, you know; I fancy they have some rough times out there; but
+they manage to get a good deal of fun too. Evan's last letter told of
+buffalo hunting, and said they had some very good society too. You
+wouldn't expect it, on the outskirts of everything; but the officers'
+families are very pleasant. There are young ladies, sometimes; and
+every one is made a great deal of."
+
+"Where is Mr. Knowlton?" Diana asked. She had been working up her
+courage to dare the question; it was hazardous; she was afraid to trust
+her voice; but the daring of desperation was on her, and the words came
+out with sufficiently cool utterance. A keen observer might note a
+change in Mrs. Reverdy's look and tone.
+
+"O, he's in one of those dreadful posts out on the frontier; too near
+the Indians; but I suppose if there weren't Indians there wouldn't be
+forts, and they wouldn't want officers or soldiers to be in them," she
+added, looking at Mr. Masters, as if she had found a happy final cause
+for the existence of the aborigines of the country.
+
+"What is the name of the place?" Diana asked.
+
+"I declare I've forgotten. Fort----,I can't think of any name but
+Vancouver, and it isn't that. Gertrude, what _is_ the name of that
+place? Do you know, I can't tell whether it is in Arizona or
+Wisconsin!" And Mrs. Reverdy laughed at her geographical innocence.
+
+Gertrude "didn't remember."
+
+"He is not so far off as Vancouver, I think," said Mr. Masters.
+
+"No,--O no, not so far as that; but he might just as well. When you get
+to a certain distance, it don't signify whether it is more or less; you
+can't get at people, and they can't get at you. _You_ have seemed to be
+at that distance lately, Basil. What a dreadful name! How came you to
+be called such a name?"
+
+"Be thankful it is no worse," said the minister gravely. "I might have
+been called Lactantius."
+
+"Lactantius! Impossible. Was there ever a man named Lactantius?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"'Tain't any worse than Ichabod," remarked Mrs. Starling.
+
+"Nothing can be worse than Ichabod," said Mr. Masters in the same dry
+way. "It means, 'The glory is departed.'"
+
+"The Ichabods I knew, never had any glory to begin with," said Mrs.
+Starling.
+
+But the minister laughed at this, and so gaily that it was infectious.
+Mrs. Starling joined in, without well knowing why; the lady visitors
+seemed to be very much amused. Diana tried to laugh, with lips that
+felt rigid as steel. The minister's eye came to hers too, she knew, to
+see how the fun went with her. And then the ladies rose, took a very
+flattering leave, and departed, carrying Mr. Masters off with them.
+
+"I am coming to look at those books of yours soon," he said, as he
+shook hands with Diana. "May I?"
+
+Diana made her answer as civil as she could, with those stiff lips; how
+she bade good-bye to the others she never knew. As her mother attended
+them to the garden gate, she went up the stairs to her room, feeling
+now it was the first time that the pain _could not be borne_. Seeing
+these people had brought Evan so near, and hearing them talk had put
+him at such an impossible distance. Diana pressed both hands on her
+heart, and stood looking out of her window at the departing carriage.
+What could she do? Nothing that she could think of, and to do nothing
+was the intolerable part of it. Any, the most tedious and lingering
+action, yes, even the least hopeful, anything that would have been
+action, would have made the pain supportable; she could have drawn
+breath then, enough for life's purposes; now she was stifling. There
+was some mystery; there was something wrong; some mistake, or
+misapprehension, or malpractice; _something_, which if she could put
+her hand on, all would be right. And it was hidden from her; dark; it
+might be near or far, she could not touch it, for she could not find
+it. There was even no place for suspicion to take hold, unless the
+curiosity of the post office, or of some prying neighbour; she did not
+suspect Evan; and yet there was a great throb at her heart with the
+thought that in Evan's place _she_ would never have let things rest.
+Nothing should have kept the silence so long unbroken; if the first
+letter got no answer, she would have written another. So would Diana
+have done now, without being in Evan's place, if only she had had his
+address. And that cruel woman to-day! did she know, or did she guess,
+anything? or was it another of the untoward circumstances attending the
+whole matter?
+
+It came to her now, a thought of regret that she had not ventured the
+disagreeableness and told her mother long ago of her interest in Evan.
+Mrs. Starling could take measures that her daughter could not take. If
+she pleased, that is; and the doubt also recurred, whether she would
+please. It was by no means certain; and at any rate now, in her
+mortification and pain, Diana could not invite her mother into her
+counsels. She felt that as from her window she watched the receding
+waggon, and saw Mrs. Starling turn from the gate and walk in.
+Uncompromising, unsympathizing, even her gait and the set of her head
+and shoulders proclaimed her to be. Diana was alone with her trouble.
+
+An hour afterwards she came down as usual, strained the milk, skimmed
+her cream, went through the whole little routine of the household
+evening; her hands were steady, her eye was true, her memory lost
+nothing. But she did not speak one word, unless, which was seldom, a
+word was spoken to her. So went on the next day, and the next.
+November's days were trailing along, December's would follow; there was
+no change from one to another; no variety. Less than ever before; for,
+with morbid sensitiveness, Diana shrank from visitors and visiting.
+Every contact gave her pain.
+
+Meanwhile, where was Evan's second letter? On its way, and in the post
+office.
+
+It was late in November; Diana was sitting at the door of the lean-to,
+where she had been sitting on that June day when our story began. She
+was alone this time, and her look and attitude were sadly at variance
+with that former time. The November day was not without a charm of its
+own which might even challenge comparison with the June glory; for it
+was Indian summer time, and the wonder of soft spiritual beauty which
+had settled down upon the landscape, brown and bare though that was,
+left no room to regret the full verdure and radiant sunlight of high
+summer. The indescribable loveliness of the haze and hush, the winning
+tender colouring that was through the air and wrapped round everything,
+softening, mellowing, harmonizing somehow even the most unsightly;
+hiding where it could not beautify, and beautifying where it could not
+hide, like Christian charity; gave a most exquisite lesson to the
+world, of how much more mighty is spirit than matter. Diana did not see
+it, as she had seen the June day; her arms were folded, lying one upon
+another in idle fashion; her face was grave and fixed, the eyes aimless
+and visionless, looking at nothing and seeing nothing; cheeks pale, and
+the mouth parted with pain and questioning, its delicious childlike
+curves just now all gone. So sitting, and so abstracted in her own
+thoughts, she never knew that anybody was near till the little gate
+opened, and then with a start she saw Mr. Masters coming up the walk.
+Diana rose and stood in the doorway; all traces of country-girl
+manners, if she had ever had any, had disappeared before the dignity of
+a great and engrossing trouble.
+
+"Good evening!" she said quietly, as they shook hands. "Mother's gone
+out."
+
+"Gone out, is she?" said Mr. Masters, but not with a tone of particular
+disappointment.
+
+"Yes. I believe she has gone to the Corner--to the post office."
+
+"The Corner is a good way off. And how do you do?"
+
+Diana thought he looked at her a little meaningly. She answered in the
+customary form, that she was well.
+
+"That says a great deal--or nothing at all," the minister remarked.
+
+"What?" said Diana, not comprehending him.
+
+"That form of words,--'I am well'."
+
+"It is very apt to mean nothing at all," said Diana, "for people say it
+without thinking."
+
+"As you did just now?"
+
+"Perhaps--but I _am_ well."
+
+"Altogether?" said the minister. "Soul and mind and body?"
+
+The word read dry enough; his manner, his tone, half gentle, half bold,
+with a curious inoffensive kind of boldness, took from them their
+dryness and gave them a certain sweet acceptableness that most persons
+knew who knew Mr. Masters. Diana never dreamed that he was intrusive,
+even though she recognised the fact that he was about his work.
+Nevertheless she waived the question.
+
+"Can anybody say that he is well _so?_" she asked.
+
+"I hope he can. Do you know the old lady who is called Mother Bartlett?"
+
+"O yes."
+
+"Do you think she would hesitate about answering that question? or be
+mistaken in the answer?"
+
+"But what do you mean by it exactly?" said Diana.
+
+"Don't you know?"
+
+"I suppose I do. I know what it means to be well in body. I have been
+well all my life."
+
+"How would you characterize that happy condition?"
+
+"Why," said Diana, unused to definitions of abstractions, but following
+Mr. Masters' lead as people always did, gentle or simple,--"I mean, or
+it means, sound, and comfortable, and fit for what one has to do."
+
+"Excellent," said the minister. "I see you understand the subject.
+Cannot those things be true of soul and mind, as well as of body?"
+
+"What is the difference between soul and mind?" said Diana.
+
+"A clear departure!" said the minister, laughing; then gravely, "Do you
+read philosophy?"
+
+"I don't know"--said Diana. "I read, or I used to read, a good many
+sorts of books. I haven't read much lately."
+
+The minister gave her another keen look while she was attending to
+something else, and when he spoke again it was with a change of tone.
+
+"I had a promise once that I should see those books."
+
+"Any time," said Diana eagerly; "any time!" For it would be an easy way
+of entertaining him, or of getting rid of him. Either would do.
+
+"I think I proposed a plan of exchange, which might be to the advantage
+of us both."
+
+"To mine, I am sure," said Diana. "I don't know whether there can be
+anything you would care for among the books up-stairs; but if there
+should be-- Would you like to go up and look at them?"
+
+"I should,--if it would not give you too much trouble."
+
+It would be no trouble just to run up-stairs and show him where they
+were; and this Diana did, leaving him to overhaul the stock at his
+leisure. She came down and went on with her work.
+
+Diana's heart was too sound and her head too clear to allow her to be
+more than to a certain degree distressed at not hearing from Evan. She
+did not doubt him more than she doubted herself; and not doubting him,
+things must come out all right by and by. She was restive under the
+present pain; at times wild with the desire to find and remove the
+something, whatever it was, which had come between Evan and her; for
+this girl's was no calm, easy-going nature, but one with depths of
+passionate reserve and terrible possibilities of suffering or enjoying.
+She had been calm all her life until now, because these powers and
+susceptibilities had been in an absolute poise; an equilibrium that
+nothing had shaken. Now the depths were stirred, and at times she was
+in a storm of impatient pain; but there came revulsions of hope and
+quiet lulls, when the sun almost shone again under the clearance made
+by faith and hope. One of these revulsions came now, after she had set
+the minister to work upon her books. Perhaps it was simple reaction;
+perhaps it was something caught from the quiet sunshiny manner and
+spirit of her visitor; but at her work in the kitchen Diana grew quite
+calm-hearted. She fancied she had discerned somewhat of more than usual
+earnestness in the minister's observation of her, and she began to
+question whether her looks or behaviour had furnished occasion. Perhaps
+she had not been ready enough to talk; poor Diana knew it was often the
+case now; she resolved she would try to mend that when he came down.
+And there was, besides, a certain lurking impatience of the bearing of
+his words; they had probed a little too deep, and after the manner of
+some morbid conditions, the probing irritated her. So by and by, when
+Mr. Masters came down with a brown volume in his hand, and offered to
+borrow it if she would let him lend her another of different colour,
+Diana met him and answered quite like herself, and went on--
+
+"Mr. Masters, how can people be always well in body, mind, and spirit,
+as you say? I am sure people's bodies get sick without any fault of
+their own; and there are accidents; and just so there are troubles.
+People can't help troubles, and they can't be 'well' in mind, I
+suppose, when they are in pain?"
+
+"Are you sure of that?" the minister answered quietly, while he turned
+to the window to look at something in the volume he had brought down
+with him.
+
+"Why, yes; and so are you, Mr. Masters; are you not?"
+
+"You need to know a great deal to be sure of anything," he answered in
+the same tone.
+
+"But you are certain of this, Mr. Masters?"
+
+"I shouldn't like to expose myself to your criticism. Let us look at
+facts. It seems to me that David was 'well' when he could say, 'Thou
+hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet
+from falling.' Also the man described in another place--'He that
+dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the
+shadow of the Almighty.'"
+
+There came a slight quiver across Diana's face, but her words were
+moved by another feeling.
+
+"Those were people of the old times; I don't know anything about them.
+I mean people of to-day."
+
+"I think Paul was 'well' when he could say, 'I have learned, in
+whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.'"
+
+"O, but that is nonsense, Mr. Masters!"
+
+"It was Paul's experience."
+
+"Yes, but it cannot be the experience of other people. Paul was
+inspired."
+
+"To write what was true,--not what was false," said the minister,
+looking at her. "You don't think peace and content come by inspiration,
+do you?"
+
+"I did not think about it," said Diana. "But I am sure it is impossible
+to be as he said."
+
+"I never heard Paul's truth questioned before," said the minister, with
+a dry sort of comicality.
+
+"No, but, Mr. Masters," said Diana, half by way of apology, "I spoke
+from my own experience."
+
+"And he spoke from his."
+
+"But, sir,--Mr. Masters,--seriously, do you think it is possible to be
+contented when one is in trouble?"
+
+"Miss Diana, One greater than David or Paul said this, 'If a man love
+me, he will keep my words; and my Father will love him; and we will
+come unto him, and make our abode with him.' Where there is that
+indwelling, believe me, there is no trouble that can overthrow content."
+
+"Content and pain together?" said Diana.
+
+"Sometimes pain and very great joy."
+
+"You are speaking of what I do not understand in the least," said
+Diana. And her face looked half incredulous, half sad.
+
+"I wish you did know it," he said. No more; only those few words had a
+simplicity, a truth, an accent of sympathy and affection, that reached
+the very depth of the heart he was speaking to; as the same things from
+his lips had often reached other hearts. He promised to take care of
+the book in his hand, and presently went away, with one of the warm,
+frank, lingering grasps of the hand, that were also a characteristic of
+Basil Masters. Diana stood at the door watching him ride away. It
+cannot be said she was soothed by his words, and perhaps he did not
+mean she should be. She stood with a weary feeling of want in her
+heart; but she thought only of the want of Evan.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+
+THE USE OF LIVING.
+
+
+
+It was quite according to Diana's nature, that as the winter went on,
+though still without news of Evan, her tumult and agony of mind quieted
+down into a calm and steadfast waiting. Her spirit was too healthy for
+suspicion, too true for doubt; and put away doubt and suspicion, what
+was left but the assurance that there had been some accident or
+mistake; from the consequences of which she was suffering, no doubt,
+but which would all be made right, and come out clear so soon as there
+could be an opportunity for explanation. For that there was nothing to
+do but to wait a little; with the returning mild weather, Evan would be
+able to procure a furlough, he would be at her side, and then--nothing
+then but union and joy. She could wait; and even in the waiting, her
+healthy spirit as it were sloughed off care, and came back again to its
+usual placid, strong, bright condition.
+
+So the winter went; a winter which was ever after a blank in Diana's
+remembrance; and the cold weather broke up into the frosts and thaws
+that sugar-makers love; and in such a March day it was, the word came
+to Mrs. Starling's house that old Squire Bowdoin was dead. The like
+weather never failed in after years to bring back to Diana that one day
+and its tidings and the strange shock they gave her.
+
+"'Twas kind o' sudden," said the news-bringer, who was Joe Bartlett;
+"he was took all to once and jes' dropped--like a ripe chestnut."
+
+"Why, like a ripe chestnut?" said Mrs. Starling sharply.
+
+"Wall, I had to say suthin', and that come first. The Scripter doos
+speak of a shock o' corn in his season, don't it, Mis' Starling?"
+
+"What's the likeness between a shock o' corn and a chestnut, Joe? I
+can't abide to hear folks talk nonsense. Who's at Elmfield?"
+
+"Ain't nary one there that had ought to be there; nary one but the
+help."
+
+"But they're comin'?" said Mrs. Starling, lifting up her head for the
+answer.
+
+"Wall, I can't say. Evan, he's too fur; and I guess men in his place
+hain't their ch'ice. And his folks is flourishy kind o' bodies; I don't
+set no count on 'em, for my part."
+
+"Well, everybody else'll be there, and shame 'em if they ain't," said
+Mrs. Starling. "How's your mother, Joe?"
+
+"Wall, I guess _she's_ ripe," said Joe with a slow intonation, loving
+and reverent; "but she's goin' to hold on to this state o' things yet
+awhile. Good day t'ye!"
+
+Diana went to the old man's funeral with her mother; in a sort of
+tremble of spirits, looking forward to what she might possibly see or
+hear. But no one was there; no one in whom she had any interest; none
+of Mr. Bowdoin's grandchildren could make it convenient to come to his
+funeral. The large gathering of friends and neighbours and distant
+relations were but an unmeaning crowd to Diana's perceptions.
+
+What difference would this change at Elmfield make in her own
+prospects? Would Mrs. Reverdy and her set come to Elmfield as usual,
+and so draw Evan as a matter of course? They might not, perhaps. But
+what difference could it be to Diana? Evan would come, at all events,
+and under any circumstances; even if his coming let the secret out; he
+would come, and nothing would keep him from it; the necessity of seeing
+her would be above all other except military necessities. Diana thought
+she wished the old gentlemen had not died. But it could make no
+difference. As soon as he could, Evan would be there.
+
+She returned to her quiet waiting. But now nature began to be noisy
+about her. It seemed that everything had a voice. Spring winds said,
+"He is coming;" the perfume of opening buds was sweet with his far-off
+presence; the very gales that chased the clouds, to her fancy chased
+the minutes as well; the waking up of the household and farm
+activities, said that now Diana's inner life would come back to its
+wonted course and arrangements.
+
+The spring winds blew themselves out; spring buds opened into full
+leafage; spring activities gradually merged into the steady routine of
+summer; and still Diana saw nothing, and still she heard nothing of
+Evan.
+
+She was patient now by force of will; doggedly trusting. She _would_
+not doubt. None of the family came to Elmfield; so there was no news by
+the way that could reach her. Mrs. Starling watched the success of her
+experiment, and was satisfied. Will began to come about the house more
+and more.
+
+It was near the end of summer, more than a year since her first
+introduction to Evan, that Diana found herself again one day at Mother
+Bartlett's cottage. She always made visits there from time to time;
+to-day she had come for no special reason, but a restlessness which
+possessed her at home. The old lady was in her usual chimney corner,
+knitting, as a year ago; and Diana, having prepared the mid-day repast
+and cleared away after it, was sitting on the doorstep at the open
+door; whence her eye went out to the hillside pasture and followed the
+two cows which were slowly moving about there. It was as quiet a bit of
+nature as could be found anywhere; and Diana was very quiet looking at
+it. But Mrs. Bartlett's eye was upon her much more than upon her work;
+which, indeed, could go on quite well without such supervision. She
+broke silence at last, speaking with an imperceptible little sigh.
+
+"And so, dear, the minister preached his sermon about the fashions last
+Sabbath?"
+
+"About fashion," said Diana. "He had promised it long ago."
+
+"And what did he say, dear?"
+
+"He said, 'The fashion of this world passeth away.'"
+
+"But he said something more, I suppose? _I_ could have said that."
+
+"He said a great deal more," replied Diana. "It was a very curious
+sermon."
+
+"As I hain't heard it, and you hev', perhaps you'll oblige me with some
+more of it."
+
+"It was a very curious sermon," Diana repeated. "Not in the least like
+what you would have expected. There wasn't much about fashion in it;
+and yet, somehow it seemed to be _all_ that."
+
+"What was his text?"
+
+"I can't tell; something about 'the grace of the fashion of it.' I
+don't remember how the words went."
+
+"I know, I guess," said the old lady. "'Twas in James, warn't it?
+Something like this--'The sun is no sooner risen with a burning heat.'"
+
+"Yes, yes, that was it."
+
+"'--but it withereth the grass, and the flower thereof falleth, and the
+grace of the fashion of it perisheth.'"
+
+"That was it," assented Diana.
+
+"So he preached about the shortness of life?"
+
+"No, not at all. He began with those words, and just a sentence or
+two--and it was beautiful, too, mother--explaining them; and then he
+said the Bible hadn't much in it directly speaking of our fashions; he
+would give us what there was, and let us make what we could of it; so
+he did."
+
+"You can make a good deal of it if you try," said Mrs. Bartlett. "And
+then, dear?"
+
+"Then he went off, you'd never think where--to the last chapter of
+Proverbs; and he described the woman described there; and he made her
+out so beautiful and good and clever and wise, that somehow, without
+saying a word about fashion, he made us feel how _she_ would never have
+had any concern about it; how she was above it, and five times more
+beautiful without, than she would have been with, the foolish ways of
+people now-a-days. But he didn't say that; you only felt it. I don't
+much believe there are any such women, mother."
+
+"I hope and believe you'll make just such a one, Diana."
+
+"I?" said the girl, with a curious intonation; then subsiding again
+immediately, she sat as she had sat at her own door a year ago, with
+arms folded, gazing out upon the summery hill pasture where the cows
+were leisurely feeding. But now her eyes had a steady, hard look, not
+busy with the sunshiny turf or the deep blue sky against which the line
+of the hill cut so soft and clear. _Then_ the vision had been all
+outward.
+
+"And that was his sermon?" said the old lady with a dash of
+disappointment.
+
+"No! O no," said Diana, rousing herself. "He went on then--how shall I
+tell you? Do you remember a verse in the Revelation about the Church
+coming down as a bride adorned for her husband?"
+
+"Ay!" said the old lady with a gratified change of voice. "Well?"
+
+"He went on to describe that adornment. I can't tell you how he did it;
+I can't repeat what he said; but it was inner adornment, you know; 'all
+glorious within,' I remember he said; and without a word more about
+what he started with, he made one feel that there is no real adornment
+but that kind, nor any other worth a thought. I heard Kate Boddington
+telling mother, as we came out of church, that she felt as cheap as
+dirt, with all her silk dress and new bonnet; and Mrs. Carpenter, who
+was close by, said she felt there wasn't a bit of her that would bear
+looking at."
+
+"What did your mother say?"
+
+"Nothing. She didn't understand it, she said."
+
+"And, Di, how did you feel?"
+
+"I don't think I felt anything, mother."
+
+"How come that about?"
+
+"I don't know. I believe it seems to me as if the fashion of this world
+never passed away; it's the same thing, year in and year out."
+
+"What ails you, Diana?" her old friend asked after a pause.
+
+"Nothing. I'm sort o' tired. I don't see how folks stand it, to live a
+long life."
+
+"But life has not been very hard to you, honey."
+
+"It needn't be _hard_ for that," Diana answered, with a kind of choke
+in her voice. "Perhaps the hardest of all would be to go on an
+unvarying jog-trot, and to know it would always be so all one's life."
+
+"What makes life all of a sudden so tiresome to you, Di?"
+
+"Something I haven't got, I suppose," said the girl drearily. "I have
+enough to eat and drink."
+
+"You ain't as bright as you used to be a year ago."
+
+"I have grown older, and have got more experience."
+
+"If life is good for nothin' else, Di, it's good to make ready for what
+comes after."
+
+"I don't believe that doctrine, mother," said Diana energetically.
+"Life is meant to be life, and not getting ready to live. _'Tisn't_
+meant to be all brown and sawdusty here, that people may have it more
+fresh and pleasant by and by."
+
+"No; but to drive them out o' this pasture, maybe. If the cows found
+always the grass long in the meadow, when do you think they'd go up the
+hill?"
+
+A quick, restless change of position was the only answer to this; an
+answer most unlike the natural calm grace of Diana's movements. The old
+lady looked at her wistfully, doubtfully, two or three times up and
+down from her knitting, before speaking again. And then speaking was
+prevented, for the other door opened and the minister came in.
+
+Basil was always welcome, whatever house or company he entered; he
+could fall in with any mood, take up any subject, sympathize in
+anybody's concerns. That was part of his secret of power, but that was
+not all. There was about him an _aura_ of happiness, so to speak; a
+steadfastness of the inner nature, which gave a sense of calm to others
+almost by the force of sympathy; and the strength of a quiet will,
+which was, however, inflexible. All that was restless, uncertain, and
+unsatisfied in men's hearts and lives, found something in him to which
+they clung as if it had been an anchor of hope; and so his popularity
+had a very wide, and at first sight very perplexing range.
+
+The two women in Mrs. Bartlett's cottage were glad to see him; and they
+had reason. Perhaps, for he was very quick, he discerned that the
+social atmosphere had been somewhat hazy when he came in; for through
+all his stay his talk was so bright and strong that it met the needs of
+both hearers. Even Diana laughed with him and listened to him; and when
+he rose to take leave, she asked if he came on horseback to-day?
+
+"No, I am ease-loving. I borrowed Mr. Chalmers' buggy."
+
+"Which way are you going now, sir, if you please?"
+
+He hesitated an instant, looked at her, and answered quite demurely, "I
+think, your way."
+
+"Would you be so kind as to take me so far as home with you, then?"
+
+"I don't see any objection to that," said Basil in the same cool
+manner. And Diana hastily took her bonnet and kissed her old friend,
+and in another minute or two she was in the buggy, and they were
+driving off.
+
+If the minister suspected somewhat, he would spoil nothing by being in
+a hurry. He drove leisurely, saying that it was too hot weather to ask
+much exertion even from a horse; and making little slight remarks, in a
+manner so gentle and quiet as to be very reassuring. But if that was
+what Diana wanted, she wanted a great deal of it; for she sat looking
+straight between the edges of her sun-bonnet, absolutely silent, hardly
+even making the replies her companion's words called for. At last he
+was silent too. The good grey horse went very soberly on, not urged at
+all; but yet even a slow rate of motion will take you to the end of
+anything, given the time; and every minute saw the rods of Diana's road
+getting behind her. I suppose she felt that, and spoke at last in the
+desperate sense of it. When a person is under that urgency, he does not
+always choose his words.
+
+"Mr. Masters, is there any way of making life anything but a miserable
+failure?"
+
+The lowered cadences of Diana's voice, a thread of bitterness in her
+utterance, quite turned the minister's thought from anything like a
+light or a gay answer. He said very gravely,
+
+"Nobody's life need be that."
+
+"How are you to get rid of it?"
+
+"Of that result, you mean?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Will you state the difficulty, as it appears to you?"
+
+"Why, look at it," said Diana, more hesitatingly; "what do most
+people's lives amount to?--what does mine? To dress oneself, and eat
+and drink, and go through a round of things, which only mean that you
+will dress yourself and eat and drink again and do the same things
+to-morrow, and the next day;--what does it all amount to in the end?"
+
+"Is life no more than that to you?"
+
+Diana hesitated, but then, with a tone still lowered, said, "No."
+
+The minister was silent now, and presently Diana went on again.
+
+"The whole world seems to me just so. People live, and die; and they
+might just as well not have lived, for all that their being in the
+world has done. And yet they have lived--and suffered."
+
+More than she knew was told in the utterance of that last word. The
+minister was still not in a hurry to speak. When he did, his question
+came as a surprise.
+
+"You believe the first chapter of Genesis, Miss Diana?"
+
+"Certainly," she said, feeling with downcast heart, "O, now a sermon!"
+
+"You believe that God made the earth, and made man to occupy it?"
+
+"Yes--certainly."
+
+"What do you think he made him for?"
+
+"I know what the catechism says," Diana began slowly.
+
+"No, no; my question has nothing to do with the catechism. Do you
+believe that the Creator's intention was that men should live
+purposeless lives, like what you describe?"
+
+"I can't believe it."
+
+"Then what purpose are we here for? Why am I, and why are you, on the
+earth?"
+
+"I don't know," said Diana faintly. The talk was not turning out well
+for her wish, she thought.
+
+"To find that out,--and to get in harmony with the answer,--is the
+great secret of life."
+
+"Will you help me, Mr. Masters?" said Diana humbly. "It is all dark and
+wild to me,--I see no comfort in anything. If there were nothing better
+than this, one would rather _not_ be on the earth."
+
+Mr. Masters might have pondered with a little surprise on the strength
+of the currents that flow sometimes where the water looks calm; but he
+had no time, and in truth was in no mood for moralizing just then. His
+answer was somewhat abrupt, though gentle as possible.
+
+"What do you want, Miss Diana?"
+
+But the answer to that was a choked sob, and then, breaking all bounds
+of her habit and intention, a passionate storm of tears. Diana was
+frightened at herself; but, nevertheless, the sudden probe of the
+question, with the sympathetic gentleness of it, and the too great
+contrast between the speaker's happy, calm, strong content and her own
+disordered, distracted life, suddenly broke her down. Neither, if you
+open the sluice-gates to such a current, can you immediately get them
+shut again. This she found, though greatly afraid of the conclusions
+her companion might draw. For a few minutes her passion was utterly
+uncontrolled.
+
+If Basil drew conclusions, he was not in a hurry to make them known. He
+did not at that time follow the conversation any further; only
+remarking cheerfully, and sympathetically too, "We must have some more
+talk about this, Miss Diana; but we'll take another opportunity," and
+so presently left her at her own door, with the warm, strong grasp of
+the hand that many a one in trouble had learned to know. There is
+strange intelligence, somehow, in our fingers. They can say what lips
+fail to say. Diana went into the house feeling that her minister was a
+tower of strength and a treasury of kindness.
+
+She found company. Mrs. Flandin and her mother were sitting together.
+
+"Hev' you come home to stay, Diana?" was her mother's sarcastic
+salutation.
+
+"How come you and the Dominie to be a ridin' together?" was the other
+lady's blunter question.
+
+"I had the chance," said Diana, "and I asked him to bring me. It's too
+hot for walking."
+
+"And how come he to be in a buggy, so convenient? He always goes
+tearin' round on the back of that 'ere grey horse, I thought. I never
+see a minister ride so afore; and I don't _think_, Mis' Starling, it's
+suitable. What if he was to break his neck, on the way to visit some
+sick man?"
+
+"Jim Treadwell broke _his_ neck out of a waggon," responded Mrs.
+Starling.
+
+"Ah, well! there ain't no security, no place; but don't it strike you,
+now, Mis' Starling, that a minister had ought to set an example of
+steady goin', and not turn the heads of the young men, and young women,
+with his capers?"
+
+"He is a young man himself, Mrs. Flandin," Diana was bold to say.
+
+"Wall--I know he is," said the lady in a disapproving way. "I know he
+is; and he can't help it; but if I had my way, I'd allays have a
+minister as much as fifty year old. It looks better," said Mrs. Flandin
+complacently; "and it _is_ better."
+
+"What is he to do all the first fifty years of his life then?"
+
+"Wall, my dear, I hain't got the arrangement of things; I don't know. I
+know Will would hitch up and carry you anywheres you want to go--if
+it's a waggon you want any time."
+
+After that, Will made good his mother's promise, so far as intentions
+went. He was generally on hand when anything was to be done in which
+himself and his smart buggy could be useful. Indeed, he was very often
+on hand at other times; dropping in after supper, and appearing with
+baskets, which were found to contain some of the Flandin pears or the
+fine red apples that grew in a corner of the lot, and were famous. Some
+of his own bees' honey Will brought another time, and a bushel of
+uncommonly fine nuts. Of course this was in the fall, to which the
+weary weeks of Diana's summer had at length dragged themselves out. But
+if Will hoped that honey would sweeten Diana's reception of him and his
+attentions, as yet it did not seem to have the desired effect. In
+truth, though Will could never suspect it, her brain was so heavy with
+other thoughts that she was only in a vague and general way conscious
+of his presence; and of his officious gallantries scarcely aware. So
+little aware, indeed, of their bearing, that on two or three occasions
+she suffered herself to be conveyed in Will's buggy to or from some
+gathering of the neighbours; Mrs. Starling or Mrs. Flandin had arranged
+it, and Diana had quite blindly fallen into the trap. And then the
+young man, not unreasonably elated and inspirited, began to make his
+visits to Mrs. Starling's house more frequent than ever. It was little
+he did to recommend himself when he was there; he generally sat
+watching Diana, carrying on a spasmodic and interrupted conversation
+with Mrs. Starling about farm affairs, and seizing the opportunity of a
+dropped spool or an unwound skein of yarn to draw near Diana and
+venture some word to her. Poor Diana felt in those days so much like a
+person whose earthly ties are all broken, that it did not come into her
+head in what a different light she stood to other eyes.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+
+A SNOWSTORM.
+
+
+
+As the weeks of September rolled away, they brought by the necessary
+force of associations a sharp waking up to Diana's torpor. These, last
+year, had been the weeks of her happiness; happiness had come to her
+dressed in these robes of autumn light and colour; and now every breath
+of the soft atmosphere, every gleam from the changing foliage, the
+light's peculiar tone, and the soft indolence of the hazy days, stole
+into the recesses of Diana's heart, and smote on the nerves that
+answered every touch with vibrations of pain. The AEolian harp that had
+sounded such soft harmonies a year ago, when the notes rose and fell in
+breathings of joy, clanged now with sharp and keen discords that Diana
+could scarcely bear. The time of blackberries passed without her
+joining the yearly party which went as usual; she escaped that; but
+there was no escaping September. And when in due course the time for
+the equinoctial storms came, and the storms did not fail, though coming
+this year somewhat later than the last, Diana felt like a person
+wakened up to life to die the second time. Her mood all changed. From a
+dull, miserable apathy, which yet had somewhat of the numbness of death
+in it, she woke up to the intense life of pain, and to a corresponding,
+but in her most unwonted, irritability of feeling. All of a sudden, as
+it were, she grew sensitive to whatever in her life and surroundings
+was untoward or trying. She read through Will Flandin's devotion; she
+saw what her mother was "driving at," as she would have expressed it.
+And the whole reality of her relations to Evan and his relations to her
+stood in colours as distinct as those of the red and green maple
+leaves, and unsoftened by the least haze of self-delusion. In the dash
+of the rain and the roar of the wind, in the familiar swirl of the elm
+branches, she read as it were her sentence of death. Before this she
+had not been dead, only stunned; now she was wakened up to die. Nature
+herself, which had been so kind a year ago, brought her now the
+irrevocable message. A whole year had gone by, a year of silence; it
+was merely impossible that Evan could be true to her. If he had been
+true, he would have overleaped all barriers, rather than let this
+silence last; but indeed he had no barriers to overleap; he had only to
+write; and he had plenty of time for it. _She_ might have overleaped
+barriers, earlier in the year, if she could have known the case was so
+desperate; and yet, Diana reflected, she could not and would not, even
+so. It was well she had not tried. For if Evan needed to be held, she
+would not put out a finger to hold him.
+
+Of this change in Diana's mood it is safe to say that nothing was
+visible. Feeling as if every nerve and sense were become an avenue of
+living pain, dying mentally a slow death, she showed nothing of it to
+others. Mind and body were so sound and strong, and the poise of her
+nature was matched with such a sweet dignity, that she was able to go
+through her usual round of duties in quite her usual way; "die and make
+no sign." Nothing was neglected in any wise, nothing was slurred or
+hurried over; thoroughly, diligently, punctually, she did the work from
+which all heart was gone out, and even Mrs. Starling, keen enough to
+see anything if only she had a clue to it, watched and saw nothing. For
+Diana's cheek had been pale for a good while now, and she had never
+been a talkative person, lately less than ever; so the fact that in
+these days she never talked at all did not strike her mother. But such
+power of self-containing is a dangerous gift for a woman.
+
+No doubt the extreme bustle and variety of the autumn and early winter
+work helped Mrs. Starling to shut her eyes to what she did not want to
+see; helped Diana too. Fall ploughing and sowing were to be attended
+to; laying down the winter's butter, storing the vegetables, disposing
+of the grain, fatting cattle, wood cutting and hauling, and repairing
+of fences, which Mrs. Starling always had done punctually in the fall
+as soon as the ploughs were put up. For nothing under Mrs. Starling's
+care was ever left at loose ends; there was not a better farmer in
+Pleasant Valley than she. Then the winter closed in, early in those
+rather high latitudes; and pork-killing time came, when for some time
+nothing was even thought of in the house but pork in its various
+forms,--lard, sausage, bacon, and hams, with extras of souse and
+headcheese. Snow had fallen already; and winter was setting in betimes,
+the knowing ones said.
+
+So came one Sunday a little before Christmas. It brought a lull in the
+midst of the pork business. Hands were washed finally for the whole
+day, and the kitchen "redd up." The weariness of Diana's nerves
+welcomed the respite; for business, which oftimes is a help to bearing
+pain, in some moods aggravates it at every touch; and Diana was glad to
+think that she might go into her own room and lock the door and be
+alone with her misery. The day was cloudy and threatening, and Mrs.
+Starling had avowed her purpose not to go to church. She was "tuckered
+out," she said. "And I am sure the Sabbath was given us for rest."
+Diana made no answer; she was washing up the breakfast things.
+
+"I guess we ain't early, neither," Mrs. Starling went on. "Well--one
+day in seven, folks must sleep; and I didn't get that headcheese out of
+my hands till 'most eleven o'clock. I guess it's first-rate, Diana;
+we'll try a bit this noon. Who's that stoppin'?--Will Flandin, if I see
+straight; that's thoughtful of him; now he'll take you to church, Di."
+
+Will he? thought Diana. Flandin came in. Dressed in his Sunday best he
+always seemed to Diana specially lumbering and awkward; and to-day his
+hair was massed into smoothness by means of I know not what bountiful
+lubrication, which looked very greasy and smelt very strong of cloves.
+His necktie was blue with yellow spots; about the right thing, Will
+thought; it was strange what a disgust it gave Diana. What's in a
+necktie?
+
+"Goin' to snow, Will?" asked Mrs. Starling.
+
+"Wall--guess likely. Not jes' yet, though."
+
+"Your mother got through with her pork?"
+
+"Wall--I guess not. Seems to me, ef she was through, there wouldn't be
+so many pickle tubs round."
+
+"Good weight?"
+
+"Wall--fair."
+
+"Our'n's better than that. Tell you what, Will, your pigs don't get the
+sunshine enough."
+
+"Don't reckon they know the difference," said Will, smiling and
+glancing over towards Diana; but Diana was gone. "Were you calculatin'
+to go to meetin' to-day, Mis' Starling?"
+
+"Guess not to-day, Will. I'm gettin' too old to work seven days in a
+week--in pork-killin' time, anyhow. I'm calculatin' to stay home.
+Diana's always for goin', though; she's gone to get ready, I guess. She
+ain't tired."
+
+Silence. Diana's room was too far off for them to hear her moving
+about, and Mrs. Starling sat down and stretched out her feet towards
+the fire. Both parties meditating.
+
+"You and she hain't come to any understanding yet?" the lady began.
+Will shifted his position uneasily and spoke not.
+
+"I wouldn't wait _too_ long, if I was you. She might take a notion to
+somebody else, you know, and then you and me'd be nowhere."
+
+"Has she, Mis' Starling?" Will asked, terrified.
+
+"She hain't told _me_ nothing of it, if she has; and I hain't seen her
+look sweet on anybody; but she might, you know, Will, if anybody came
+along that she fancied. I always like to get the halter over my horse's
+head, and then I know I've got him."
+
+The image suggested nothing but difficulty to Will's imagination. A
+halter over Diana's stately neck!
+
+"I allays catch a horse by cornerin' him," he said sheepishly, and
+again moving restlessly in his chair.
+
+"That won't answer in this chase," said Mrs. Starling. "Diana'll walk
+up to you of her own accord, if she comes at all; but you must hold out
+your hand, Will."
+
+"Ain't I a-doin' that all the while, Mis' Starling?" said Will, whom
+every one of his friend's utterances seemed to put farther and farther
+away from his goal.
+
+"I reckon she'll come, all right," said Mrs. Starling reassuringly;
+"but, you know, girls ain't obliged to see anybody's hand till they
+have to. You all like 'em better for bein' skittish. I don't. She ain't
+skittish with me, neither; and she won't be with you, when you've
+caught her once. Take your time, only I wouldn't be _too_ long about
+it, as I said."
+
+Poor Will! The sweat stood upon his brow with the prospect of what was
+before him, perhaps that very day; for what time could be better for
+"holding out his hand" to Diana than a solitary sleigh ride? Then, if
+he held out his hand and she wouldn't see it!
+
+
+Meanwhile.--Diana had, as stated, left the kitchen, and mounted the
+stairs with a peculiarly quick, light tread which meant business; for
+the fact was that she did discern the holding out of Will's hand, and
+was taking a sudden sheer. Nothing but the sheer was quite distinct to
+her mind as she set her foot upon the stair; but before she reached the
+top landing-place, she knew what she would do. Her mother was not going
+to church; Will Flandin was; and the plan, she saw, was fixed, that he
+should drive herself. Her mother would oblige her to go; or else, if
+she made a determined stand, Will on the other hand would not go; and
+she would have to endure him, platitudes, blue necktie, cloves, and
+all, for the remainder of the morning. Only one escape was left her.
+With the swiftness and accuracy of movement which is possible in a
+moment of excitement to senses and faculties habitually deft and true,
+Diana changed her dress, put on the grey, thick, coarse wrappings which
+were very necessary for any one going sleigh-riding in Pleasant Valley,
+took her hood in her hand, and slipped down the stairs as noiselessly
+as she had gone up. It was not needful that she should go through the
+kitchen, where her mother and her visitor were; there was a side door,
+happily; and without being seen or heard, Diana reached the barn.
+
+The rest was easy. Prince was fast by his halter, instead of wandering
+at will over the sunny meadow; and without any delay or difficulty,
+Diana got his harness on and hitched him to the small cutter which was
+wont to convey herself and her mother to church and wherever else they
+wanted to go in winter time. Only Diana carefully took the precaution
+to remove the sleigh bells from the rest of Prince's harness; then she
+led him out of the barn where she had harnessed him, closed the barn
+doors securely, remembering how they had been left on another occasion,
+mounted, and drove slowly away. It had been a dreamy piece of work to
+her; for it had so fallen out that she had never once harnessed Prince
+again since that June day, when she, indeed, did not harness him, but
+had been about it, when somebody else had taken the work out of her
+hand. It was very bitter to Diana to handle the bridle and the traces
+that _he_ had handled that day; she did it with fingers that seemed to
+sting with pain at every touch; her brain got into a whirl; and when
+she finally drove off, it was rather instinctively that she went slowly
+and made no sound, for Will and his hopes and his wooing and his
+presence had faded out of her imagination. She went slowly, until she,
+also instinctively, knew that she was safe, and then still she went
+slowly. Prince chose his own gait. Diana, with the reins slack in her
+hand, sat still and thought. There was no need for hurry; it was not
+near church time, not yet even church-going time; Will would be quiet
+for a while yet, before it would be necessary to make any hue-and-cry
+after the runaway; and she and Prince would be far beyond ken by that
+time. And meanwhile there was something soothing in the mere being
+alone under the wide grey sky. Nobody to watch her, nothing to exert
+herself about; for a few moments in her life, Diana could be still and
+drift.
+
+Whither? She was beginning to feel that the chafing of home, her
+mother's driving and Will's courting, were becoming intolerable. Heart
+and brain were strained and sore; if she could be still till she died,
+Diana felt it to be the utmost limit of desirableness. She knew she was
+not likely to die soon; brain and nerve might be strained, but they
+were sound and whole; the full capacity for suffering, the unimpaired
+energy for doing, were hers yet. And stillness was not likely to be
+granted her. It was inexpressibly suitable to Diana's mood to sit quiet
+in the sleigh and let Prince walk, and feel alone, and know that no one
+could disturb her. A few small flakes of snow were beginning to flit
+aimlessly about; their soft, wavering motion suggested nothing ruder
+than that same purposeless drift towards which Diana's whole soul was
+going out in yearning. If she had been in a German fairy tale, the
+snow-flakes would have seemed to her spirits of peace. She welcomed
+them. She put out her hand and caught two or three, and then brought
+them close to look at them. The little fair crystals lay still on her
+glove; it was too cold for them to melt. O to be like that!--thought
+Diana,--cold and alone! But she was in no wise like that, but a living
+human creature, warm at heart and quick in brain; in the midst of
+humanity, obliged to fight out or watch through the life-battle, and
+take blows and wounds as they came. Ah, she would not have minded the
+blows or the wounds; she would have girded herself joyfully for the
+struggle, were it twice as long or hard; but now,--there was nothing
+left to fight for. The fight looked dreary. She longed to creep into a
+corner, under some cover, and get rid of it all. No cover was in sight.
+Diana knew, with the subtle instinct of power, that she was one of
+those who must stand in the front ranks and take the responsibility of
+her own and probably of others' destinies. She could not creep into a
+corner and be still; there was work to do. And Diana never shirked
+work. Vaguely, even now, as Prince walked along and she was revelling,
+so to speak, in the loveliness and the peace of momentary immunity, she
+began to look at the question, how and where her stand must be and her
+work be done. Not as Will Flandin's wife, she thought! No, she could
+never be that. But her mother would urge and press it; how much worry
+of that sort could she stand, when she was longing for rest? Would her
+mother's persistence conquer in the end, just because her own spirit
+was gone for contending? No; never! Not Will Flandin, if she died for
+it. Anything else.
+
+The truth was, the girl's life-hope was so dead within her, that for
+the time she looked upon all things in the universe through a veil of
+unreality. What did it matter, one thing or the other? what did it
+signify any longer which way she took through the wilderness of this
+world? Diana's senses were benumbed; she no longer recognised the forms
+of things, nor their possible hard edges, nor the perspectives of time.
+Life seemed unending, long, it is true, to look forward to; but she saw
+it, not in perspective, but as if in a nightmare it were all in mass
+pressing upon her and taking away her breath. So what did points here
+and there amount to? What did it matter? any more than this snow which
+was beginning to come down so fast.
+
+Fast and thick; the aimless scattering crystals, which had come
+fluttering about as if uncertain about reaching earth at all, had given
+place to a dense, swift, driving storm. Without much wind perceptible
+yet, the snowfall came with a steady straight drift which spoke of an
+impelling force somewhere, might it be only the weight of the cloud
+reservoirs from which it came. It came in a way that could no longer be
+ignored. The crystals struck Diana's face and hands with the force of
+small missiles. But just now she had been going through a grey and
+brown lonely landscape; it was covered up, and nothing to see but this
+white downfall. Even the nearest outlines were hidden; she could barely
+distinguish the fences on either hand of her road; nothing further;
+trees and hills were all swallowed up, and the road itself was not
+discernible at a very few paces' distance. Indeed, it was not too easy
+to keep her eyes open to see anything, so beat the crystals, sharp and
+fast, into her face. Diana smiled to herself, to think that she was
+safe now from even distant pursuit; no fear that Flandin would by and
+by come up with her, or even make his appearance at the church at all
+that day; the storm was violent enough to keep any one from venturing
+out of doors, or to make any one turn back to his house who had already
+left it. Diana had no thought of turning back; the more impossible the
+storm made other people's travelling, the better it was for hers.
+Prince knew the way well enough, and could go to church like a
+Christian; she left the way to him, and enjoyed the strange joy of
+being alone, beyond vision or pursuit, set aside as it were from her
+life and life surroundings for a time. What did she care how hard the
+storm beat? To the rough treatment of life this was as the touch of a
+soft feather. Diana welcomed it; loved the storm; bent her head to
+shield her from the blast of it, and went on. The wind began to make
+itself known as one of the forces abroad, but she did not mind that
+either. Gusts came by turns, sweeping the snow in what seemed a solid
+mass upon her shoulder and side face; and then, in a little time more,
+there was no question of gusts, but a steady wild fury which knew no
+intermission. The storm grew tremendous, and everybody in Pleasant
+Valley was well aware that such storms in those regions did not go as
+soon as they came. Diana herself began to feel glad that she must be
+near her stopping-place. No landmarks whatever were visible, but she
+thought she had been travelling long enough, even at Prince's slow
+rate, to put most of the three miles behind her; and she grew a little
+afraid lest in the white darkness she might miss the little church;
+once past it, though never so little, and looking back would be in
+vain. It was a question if she would not pass it even with her best
+endeavour. In her preoccupation it had never once occurred to Diana to
+speculate on what she would find at the church, if she reached it; and
+now she had but one thought, not to miss reaching it. She had some
+anxious minutes of watching, for her rate of travelling had been slower
+than she knew, and there was a good piece of a mile still between her
+and the place when she began to look for it. Now she eyed with greatest
+care the road and the fences, when she could see the latter, and indeed
+it is poetical to speak of her seeing the road, for the tracks were all
+covered up. But at last Diana recognised a break in the fence at her
+left; checked Prince, turned his head carefully in that direction,
+found he seemed to think it all right, and presently saw just before
+her the long low shed in which the country people were wont to tie
+their horses for the time of divine service. Prince went straight to
+his accustomed place.
+
+Diana got out. There was no need to tie Prince to-day. The usual equine
+sense of expediency would be quite sufficient to keep any horse under
+cover. She left the sleigh, and groped her way--truly it was not easy
+to keep on her feet, the wind blew so--till she saw the little white
+church just before her. There was not a foot-track on the snow which
+covered the steps leading to the door. But the wind and the snow would
+cover up or blow away any such tracks in very short time, she
+reflected;--yet,--what if the door were locked and nobody there! One
+moment her heart stood still. No; things were better than that; the
+door yielded to her hand. Diana went in, welcomed by the warm
+atmosphere, which contrasted so pleasantly with the wind and the
+snow-flakes, shut the door, shook herself, and opened one of the inner
+doors which led into the audience room of the building.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+
+OUT OF HUMDRUM.
+
+
+
+Warm, how good and warm! but empty. Perfectly empty. Perfectly still.
+Empty pews, and empty pulpit; nobody, not a head visible anywhere. Not
+a breath to be heard. The place was awful; it was like the ghost of a
+church; all the life out of it. But how, then, came it to be warm?
+Somebody must have made the fires; where was somebody gone? And had
+none of all the congregation come to church that day? was it too bad
+for everybody? Diana began to wake up to facts, as she heard the blast
+drive against the windows, and listened to the swirl of it round the
+house. And how was she going to get home, if it was so bad as that? At
+any rate, here was still solitude and quiet and freedom; she could get
+warm and enjoy it for awhile, and let Prince rest; she would not be in
+a hurry. She turned to go to one of the corners of the room, where the
+stoves were screened off by high screens in the interest of the
+neighbouring pews; and then, just at the corner of the screen, from
+where he had been watching her, she saw Mr. Masters. Diana did not know
+whether to be sorry or glad. On the whole, she rather thought she was
+glad; the church was eerie all alone.
+
+"Mr. Masters!--I thought nobody was here."
+
+"I thought nobody was going to be here. Good morning! Who else is
+coming?"
+
+"Who else? Nobody, I guess."
+
+"How am I to understand that?"
+
+"Just so,"--said Diana, coming up to the stove and putting her fingers
+out towards the warmth.
+
+"Where is the other half of your family?"
+
+"I left mother at home."
+
+"You came alone?"
+
+"Yes, I came alone." Diana began to wonder a little at the situation in
+which she found herself, and to revolve in her mind how she could make
+use of it.
+
+"Miss Diana, you have dared what no one else has dared."
+
+"It was not daring," said the girl. "I did not think much of the storm,
+till I was so far on the way that it was as easy to come on as to go
+back."
+
+A light rejoinder, which would have been given to anybody else, was
+checked on Mr. Masters' lips by the abstracted, apart air with which
+these words were spoken. He gave one or two inquisitive glances at the
+speaker, and was silent. Diana roused herself.
+
+"Has nobody at all come to church?"
+
+"Nobody but Mr. St. Clair"--(he was the old sexton.) "And he has such a
+bad cold that I took pity on him and sent him home. I promised him I
+would shut up the church for him--when it was necessary to leave it.
+_He_ was in no condition to be preached to."
+
+
+He half expected Diana would propose the shutting up of the church at
+once, and the ensuing return home of the two people there; but instead
+of that, she drew up a stool and sat down.
+
+"You will not be able to preach to-day," she remarked.
+
+"Not to much of a congregation," said the minister. "I will do my best
+with what I have."
+
+"Are you going to preach to me?" said Diana, with a ghost of a smile.
+
+"If you demand it! You have an undoubted right."
+
+Diana sat silent. The warmth of the room was very pleasant. Also the
+security. Not from the storm, which howled and dashed upon the windows
+and raged round the building and the world generally; but from that
+other storm and whirl of life. Diana did not want just yet to be at
+home. Furthermore, she had a dim notion of using her opportunity. She
+thought how she could do it; and the minister, standing by, watched
+her, with some secret anxiety but an extremely calm exterior.
+
+"You must give me the text, Miss Diana," he ventured presently.
+
+Diana sat still, musing. "Mr. Masters," she said at last, very slowly,
+in order that the composure of it might be perfect,--"will you tell me
+what is the good of life?"
+
+"To yourself, you mean?"
+
+"Yes. For me--or for anybody."
+
+"I should say briefly, that God makes all His creatures to be happy."
+
+"Happy!" echoed Diana, with more sharpness of accent than she knew.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But, Mr. Masters, suppose--suppose that is impossible?"
+
+"It never is impossible."
+
+"That sounds--like--mockery," said Diana. "Only you never do say
+mocking things."
+
+"I do not about this."
+
+"But, Mr. Masters!--surely there are a great many people in the world
+that are not happy?"
+
+"A sorrowful truth. How comes Diana Starling to be one of them?"
+
+And saying this, the minister himself drew up a chair and sat down. The
+question was daring, but the whole way and manner of the man were so
+quiet and gentle, so sympathizing and firm at once, that it would have
+lured a bird off its nest; much more the brooding reserve from a heart
+it is not nursing but killing. Diana looked at him, met the wise, kind,
+grave eye she had learned long ago to trust,--and broke down. All of a
+sudden; she had not dreamed she was in any danger; she was as much
+surprised as he was; but that helped nothing. Diana buried her face in
+her hands and burst into tears.
+
+He looked very much concerned. Wisely, however, he kept perfectly quiet
+and let the storm pass; the little inner storm which caused the outer
+violence of winds and clouds to be for the time forgotten. Diana sobbed
+bitterly. When after a few minutes she checked herself, the minister
+went off and brought her a glass of water. Diana lifted her flushed
+face and drank it, making no word of excuse or apology. As he took the
+glass back, Mr. Masters spoke in the tone of mixed sympathy and
+authority--it was a winning kind of authority--which was peculiar to
+him.
+
+"Now, Miss Diana, what is it?"
+
+But there was a long pause. Diana was regaining self-command and
+searching for words. The minister was patient, and waited.
+
+"There seems to be nothing left in life," she said at last.
+
+"Except duty, you mean?"
+
+"There is enough of that; common sort of duties. But duty is very cold
+and bare if it is all alone, Mr. Masters."
+
+"Undoubtedly true. But who has told you that your life must be filled
+with only common sorts of duties?"
+
+"It has nothing else," said Diana despondently. "And I look forward and
+see nothing else. And when I think of living on and on so--my brain
+almost turns, and I wonder why I was made."
+
+"Not to live so. Our Maker meant none of us to live a humdrum life;
+don't you know, we were intended for 'glory, honour, and immortality'?"
+
+"How can one get out of humdrum?" Diana asked disconsolately.
+
+"By living to God."
+
+"I don't understand you."
+
+"You understand how a woman can live to a beloved human creature, doing
+everything in the thought and the joy of her affection."
+
+Was he probing her secret? Diana's breath came short; she sat with eyes
+cast down and a feeling of oppression; growing pale with her pain. But
+she said, "Well?"
+
+"Let it be God, instead of a fellow-creature. Your life will have no
+humdrum then."
+
+"But--one can only love what one knows," said Diana, speaking carefully.
+
+"Precisely. And the Bible cry to men is, that they would 'know the
+Lord.' For want of that knowledge, all goes wild."
+
+"Do you mean that that will take the place of everything else?" said
+Diana, lifting her weary eyes to him. They were strong, beautiful eyes
+too, but the light of hope was gone, and all sparkle of pleasure, out
+of them. The look struck to the minister's heart. He answered, however,
+with no change of tone.
+
+"I mean, that it more than takes the place of everything else."
+
+"Not replace what is lost," said Diana sadly.
+
+"More than replace it, even when one has lost all."
+
+"That can't be!--that must be impossible, sometimes," said Diana. "I
+don't believe you know."
+
+"Yes, I do," said the minister gravely.
+
+"People would not be human."
+
+"Very human--tenderly human. Do you really think, Miss Diana, that he
+who made our hearts, made them larger than he himself can fill?"
+
+Diana sat silent a while, and the minister stood considering her; his
+heart strained with sympathy and longing to give her help, and at the
+same time doubting how far he might or dared venture. Diana on her part
+fearing to show too much, but remembering also that this chance might
+never repeat itself. The fear of losing it began to overtop all other
+fear. So she began again.
+
+"But, Mr Masters--this, that you speak of--I haven't got it; and I
+don't understand it. What shall I do?"
+
+"Get it."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Seek it in the appointed way."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"Jesus said, 'He that hath my commandments and keepeth them, he it is
+that loveth me; and he that loveth me shall be loved of my Father; and
+I will love him, and _will manifest myself to him_.'"
+
+"But I do not love him."
+
+"Then pray as Moses prayed,--'I beseech thee, show me thy glory.'"
+
+Diana's head sank a little. "I have no heart to give to anything!" she
+confessed.
+
+"What has become of it?" asked the minister daringly.
+
+"Don't people sometimes lose heart without any particular reason?"
+
+"No; never."
+
+"I have reason, though," said Diana.
+
+"I see that."
+
+"You do not know--?" said Diana, facing him with a startled movement.
+
+"No. I know nothing, Miss Diana. I guess."
+
+She sat with her face turned from him for a while; then, perhaps
+reminded by the blast of wind and snow which at the moment came round
+the house furiously and beat on the windows, she went on hastily:
+
+"You wonder to see me here; but I ran away from home; and I can't bear
+to go back."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Mr. Masters, mother wants me to"--Diana hesitated--"marry a rich man."
+
+The minister was silent.
+
+"He is there all the while--I mean, very often; he has not spoken out
+yet, but mother has; and she favours him all she can."
+
+"You do not?"
+
+"I wish I could never see him again!" sighed Diana.
+
+"You can send him away, I should think."
+
+"I can't, till he asks my leave to stay. And I am so tired. He came to
+take me to church this morning; and I ran away before it was time to
+go."
+
+"You cannot be disposed of against your will, Miss Diana."
+
+"I seem to have so little will now. Sometimes I am almost ready to be
+afraid mother and he together will tire me out. Nothing seems to matter
+any more."
+
+"That would be a great mistake."
+
+"Yes!"--said Diana, getting up from her chair and looking out towards
+the storm with a despairing face;--"people make mistakes sometimes. Mr.
+Masters, you must think me very strange--but I trust you--and I wanted
+help so much"--
+
+"And I have not given you any."
+
+"You would if you could."
+
+"And I will if I can. I have thought of more than I have spoken. When
+can I see you again, to consult further? It must be alone."
+
+"I don't know. This is my chance. Tell me now. What have you thought
+of?"
+
+"I never speak about business on Sunday," said the minister, meeting
+Diana's frank eyes with a slight smile which was very far from
+merriment.
+
+"Is this business?"
+
+"Partly of that character."
+
+"I don't know, then," said Diana. "We must take our chance. Thank you,
+Mr. Masters."
+
+"May I ask what for?"
+
+"For your kindness."
+
+"I should like to be kind to you," said he. "Now the present practical
+question, which cannot be put off, Miss Diana, is--how are you going to
+get home?"
+
+"And you?"
+
+"That is a secondary matter and easily disposed of. I live
+comparatively near by. It is out of the question that you should drive
+three miles in this storm."
+
+Both stood and listened to the blast for a few minutes. There was no
+denying the truth of his words. In fact, it would be a doubtful thing
+for a strong man to venture himself and his beast out in the fury of
+the whirling wind and snow; for a woman, it was not to be thought of.
+Mr. Masters considered. For him to take Diana, supposing the storm
+would let him, to the house of some near neighbour, would be awkward
+enough, and give rise to endless and boundless town talk. To carry her
+home, three miles, was, as he had said, out of the question. To wait,
+both of them, in the church, for the storm's abating, was again not a
+desirable measure, and would furnish even richer food for the tongues
+of the parish than the other alternatives would. To leave her, or for
+her to leave him, were alike impossible. Mr. Masters was not a man who
+usually hesitated long about any course of action, but he was puzzled
+to-day. He walked up and down in one of the aisles, thinking; while
+Diana resumed her seat by the stove. Her simplicity and independence of
+character did not allow her to greatly care about the matter; though
+she, too, knew very well what disagreeable things would be said, at
+home and elsewhere, and what a handle would be made of the affair, both
+against her and against the minister. For his sake, she was sorry; for
+herself, what did anything much matter? This storm was an exceptional
+one; such as comes once in a year perhaps, or perhaps not in several
+years. The wind had risen to a tempest; the snow drove thick before it,
+whirling in the eddies of the gust, so as to come in every possible
+direction, and seemingly caught up again before it could reach a
+resting-place. The fury of its assault upon the church windows made one
+thing at least certain; it would be a mad proceeding now to venture out
+into it, for a woman or a man either. And it was very cold; though
+happily the stoves had been so effectually fired up, that the little
+meeting-house was still quite comfortable. Yet the minister walked and
+walked. Diana almost forgot him; she sat lost in her own thoughts. The
+lull was soothing. The solitude was comforting. The storm which put a
+barrier between her and all the rest of the world, was a temporary
+friend. Diana could find it in her heart to wish it were more than
+temporary. To be out of the old grooves of pain is something, until the
+new ones are worn. To forsake scenes and surroundings which know all
+our secrets is sometimes to escape beneficially their persistent
+reminders of everything one would like to forget. Diana felt like a
+child that has run away from school, and so for the present got rid of
+its lessons; and sat in a quiet sort of dull content, listening now and
+then to the roar of the blast, and hugging herself that she had run
+away in time. Half an hour more, and it would have been too late, and
+Will and her mother would have been her companions for all day. How
+about to-morrow? Diana shuddered. And how about all the to-morrows that
+stretched along in dreary perspective before her? Would they also, all
+of them, hold nothing but those same two persons? Nothing but an
+endless vista of butter-making and pork-killing on one hand, and
+hair-oil scented with cloves on the other? It would be better far to
+die, if she could die; but Diana knew she could not.
+
+"Well!" said the voice of the minister suddenly beside her, "what do
+you think of the prospect?"
+
+Diana's eyes, as they were lifted to his face, were full of so blank a
+life-prospect, that his own face changed, and a cloud came over its
+brightness.
+
+"We can't get away," he said. "Not at present, unless we were gulls;
+and gulls never fly in these regions. Do you mind waiting?"
+
+"I do not mind it at all," said Diana; "except for you. I am sorry for
+you to have to stay here with me."
+
+"There isn't anybody I would rather stay with," said the minister, half
+humourously. "Now, can you return the compliment?"
+
+"Yes indeed!" said Diana earnestly. "There isn't anybody else I would
+half as lieve stay with."
+
+"Apparently you have some confidence in me," he said in the same tone.
+
+"I have confidence in nobody else," said Diana sadly. "I know you would
+help me if you could."
+
+They were silent a few minutes after that, and when Mr. Masters began
+to speak again, it was in a different tone; a gentle, grave tone of
+business.
+
+"I have been doing some hard thinking," he said, "while I have been
+walking yonder; and I have come to the conclusion that the present is
+an exceptional case and an exceptional time. Ordinarily I do not let
+business--private business--come into Sunday. But we are brought here
+together, and detained here, and I have come to the conclusion that
+this is the business I ought to do. I have only one parishioner on my
+hands to-day," he went on with a slight smile, "and I may as well
+attend to her. I am going to tell you my plan. I shall not startle you?
+Just now you allowed that you had confidence in me?"
+
+"Yes. I will try to do whatever you say I ought to do."
+
+"That I cannot tell," said he gravely, "but I will unfold to you my
+plan. You have trust in me. So have I in you, Diana; but I have more.
+So much more, that it would make me happy to go through my life with
+you. I know,"--he said as he met her startled look up to him,--"I know
+you do not love me, I know that; but you trust me; and I have love
+enough for two. That has been true a great while. Suppose you come to
+me and let me take care of you. Can you trust me to that extent?"
+
+Diana's lips had grown white with fear and astonishment. "You do not
+know!"--she gasped. But his answer was steady and sweet.
+
+"I think I do."
+
+"All?"
+
+"All I need to know."
+
+"It would be very, very wrong to you, Mr. Masters!" said Diana, hiding
+her face.
+
+"No," he answered in the same gentle way. "To give me what I long for?"
+
+"But--but--I have nothing to give in return," she said, answering not
+the form of his words, but the reality under them.
+
+"I will take my risk of that. I told you, I have enough for both. And I
+might add, to last out our lives. I only want to have the privilege of
+taking care of you."
+
+"My heart is dead!"--cried Diana piteously.
+
+"Mine isn't. And yours is not. It is only sick, but not unto death; and
+I want to shelter and nurse it to health again. May I?"
+
+"You cannot," said Diana. "I am not worth anybody's looking at any
+more. There is no life left in me. I am not good enough for you, Mr.
+Masters. You ought to have a whole heart--and a large one--in return
+for your own."
+
+"I do not want any return," said he. "Not at present, beyond that trust
+which you so kindly have given me. And if I never have any more, I will
+be content, Diana, to be allowed to do all the giving myself. You must
+spend your life somewhere. Can you spend it anywhere better than at my
+side?"
+
+"No,"--Diana breathed rather than spoke.
+
+"'Then it's a bargain?" said he, taking her hand. Diana did not
+withdraw it, and stooping down he touched his lips gently to hers. This
+was so unlike one of Evan's kisses, that it did not even remind Diana
+of them. She sat dazed and stunned, hardly knowing how she felt, only
+bewildered; yet dimly conscious that she was offered a shelter, and a
+lot which, if she had never known Evan, she would have esteemed the
+highest possible. An empty lot now, as any one must be; an unequal
+exchange for Mr. Masters; an unfair transaction; at the same time, for
+her, a hiding-place from the world's buffetings. She would escape so
+from her mother's exactions and rule; from young Flandin's following
+and pretensions; from the pointed finger of gossip. True, that finger
+had never been levelled at her, not yet; but every one who has a secret
+sore spot knows the dread of its being discovered and touched. And
+Diana had never been wont to mind her mother's exactions, or to rebel
+against her rule; but lately, for a year past, without knowing or
+guessing the wrong of which her mother had been guilty, Diana had been
+conscious of an underlying want of harmony somewhere. She did not know
+where it was; it was in the air; for nature's subtle sympathies find
+their way and know their ground far beyond the sphere of sense or
+reason. Something adverse and something sinister she had vaguely felt
+in her mother's manner, without having the least clue to any possible
+cause or motive. Suspicion was the last thing to occur to Diana's
+nature; so she suspected nothing; nevertheless felt the grating and now
+and then the jar of their two spirits one against the other. It was
+dimly connected with Evan, too, in her mind, without knowing why; she
+thought, blaming herself for the thought, that Mrs. Starling would not
+have been so determinately eager to get her married to Will Flandin if
+Evan Knowlton had never been thought to fancy her. This was a perfectly
+unreasoning conclusion in Diana's mind; she could give no account of
+it; but as little could she get rid of it; and it made her mother's
+ways lately hard to bear. The minister, she knew instinctively, would
+not let a rough wind blow on her face; at his side neither criticism
+nor any sort of human annoyance could reach her; she would have only
+her own deep heart-sorrow to bear on to the end. But what sort of
+justice was this towards him? Diana lifted her head, which had been
+sunk in musing, and looked round. She had heard nothing for a while;
+now the swirl and rush of the storm were the first thing that struck
+her senses; and the first thought, that no getting away was possible
+yet; then she glanced at Mr. Masters. He was there near her, just as
+usual, looking at her quietly.
+
+"Mr. Masters," she burst forth, "you are very good!"
+
+"That is right," he said, with a sort of dry comicality which belonged
+to him, "I hope you will never change your opinion."
+
+"But," said Diana, withdrawing her eyes in some confusion, "I think I
+am not. I think I am doing wrong."
+
+"In what?"
+
+"In letting you say what you said a little while ago. You have a heart,
+and a big one. I have not any heart at all. I can't give you what you
+would give me; I haven't got it to give. I never shall have anything to
+give."
+
+"The case being so as you put it," said the minister quite quietly,
+"what then? You cannot change the facts. I cannot take back what I have
+given; it was given long ago, Diana, and remains yours. The least you
+can do, is to let me have what is left of you and take care of it.
+While I live I will do that, and ask no reward."
+
+"You will get tired of it," said Diana, with her lip trembling.
+
+"Will I?" said he, taking her hand. And he added no more, but through
+the gentle, almost careless intonation, Diana felt and knew the very
+truth, that he never would. She left her hand in his clasp; that too
+was gentle and firm, like the man; he seemed a tower of strength to
+Diana. If only she could have loved him! Yet she thought she was glad
+that he loved her. He was something to lean upon; some one who would be
+able to give help. They sat so, hand in hand, for a while, the storm
+roaring against the windows and howling round the building.
+
+"Don't you think," the minister began again with a tender, light
+accent, "it will be part of my permanent duty to preach to you?"
+
+"I dare say; I am sure I want it enough," said Diana.
+
+"Is not this a good opportunity?"
+
+"I suppose it is. We cannot get away."
+
+"Never mind; the wind will go down by and by. It has been blowing on
+purpose to keep us here. Diana, do you think a good God made any of his
+creatures to be unhappy?"
+
+"I don't know, Mr. Masters. He lets them be unhappy."
+
+"It is not his will."
+
+"But he takes away what would make them happy?"
+
+"What do you think would do that?"
+
+"I suppose it is one thing with one person, and another with another."
+
+"True; but take an instance."
+
+"It is mother's happiness to have her farm and her dairy and her house
+go just right."
+
+"Is she happy if it does?"
+
+"She is very uncomfortable if it don't."
+
+"That is not my question," said the minister, smiling. "Happiness is
+not a thing that comes and goes with the weather, or the crops, or the
+state of the market;--nor even with the life and death and affection of
+those we love."
+
+"I thought it did"--said Diana rather faintly.
+
+"In that case it would be a changeable, insecure thing; and being that,
+it would cease to be happiness."
+
+"Yes. I thought human happiness was changeable and uncertain."
+
+"Do you not feel that such conditions would spoil it? No; God loves us
+better than that."
+
+"But, Mr. Masters," said Diana in some surprise, "nobody in this world
+can be sure of keeping what he likes?"
+
+"Except one thing."
+
+"What can that be?"
+
+"Did you never see anybody who was happy independent of circumstances?"
+
+Diana reflected. "I think Mother Bartlett is."
+
+"I think so too."
+
+"But she is the only person of whom that is true in all Pleasant
+Valley."
+
+"How comes she to be an exception?"
+
+Diana reflected again, but this time without finding an answer.
+
+"Isn't it, that she has set her heart on what cannot fail her nor be
+insufficient for her?"
+
+"Religion, you mean."
+
+"I do not mean religion."
+
+"What then?" Diana asked in new surprise.
+
+"I mean--Christ."
+
+"But--isn't that the same thing?"
+
+"Not exactly. Christ is a person."
+
+"Yes--but"--
+
+"And _he_ it is that can make happy those who know him. Do you remember
+he said, 'He that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that
+believeth on me shall never thirst'?"
+
+Looking up at the speaker and following his words, they somehow struck
+Diana rather hard. Her lip suddenly trembled, and she looked down.
+
+"You do not understand it," said the minister, "but you must believe
+it. Poor hungry lamb, seeking pasture where there is none,--where it is
+withered,--come to Christ!"
+
+"Do you mean," said Diana, struggling for voice and self-command, but
+unable to look up, for the minister's hand was on her shoulder and his
+words had been very tenderly spoken,--"do you mean, that when
+everything _is_ withered, he can make it green again?"
+
+The minister answered in the words of David, which were the words of
+the Lord: "'He shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun
+riseth, even a morning without clouds; as the tender grass springeth
+out of the earth by clear shining after rain.'"
+
+Diana bent her head lower. Could such refreshment and renewal of her
+own wasted nature ever come to pass? She did not believe it; yet
+perhaps there was life yet at the roots of the grass which scented the
+rain. The words swept over as the breath of the south wind.
+
+"'The light of a morning without clouds'"--she repeated when she could
+speak.
+
+"Christ is all that, to those who know him," the minister said.
+
+"Then I do not know him," said Diana.
+
+"Did you think you did?"
+
+"But how _can_ one know him, Mr. Masters?"
+
+"There is only one way. It is said, 'God, who created the light out of
+darkness, hath _shined in our hearts_, to give the light of the glory
+of the knowledge of Christ.'"
+
+"How?"
+
+"I cannot tell. As the sun rises over the hills, and suddenly the gold
+of it is upon everything, and the warmth of it."
+
+"When?"
+
+"I don't know that either," said Mr. Masters, gently touching Diana's
+brow, as one touches a child's, with caressing fingers. "_He_ says: 'Ye
+shall find me when ye shall search for me with all your heart.'--'If
+thou criest after knowledge, and liftest up thy voice for
+understanding; if thou seekest her as silver, and searchest for her as
+for hid treasures; then shalt thou understand the fear of the Lord, and
+_find the knowledge of God_.'"
+
+Diana sat still awhile and neither of them spoke; then she said,
+speaking more lightly:
+
+"I think you have preached a beautiful sermon, Mr. Masters."
+
+"It's a beautiful sermon," assented the minister; "but how much effect
+will it have?"
+
+"I don't know," said Diana. "I don't seem to have energy enough to take
+hold of anything." Then after a little she added--"But if anybody can
+help me I am sure it is you."
+
+"We will stand by one another, then," said he, "and do the best we can."
+
+Diana did not make any denial of this conclusion; and they sat still
+without more words, for some time, each busied with his own separate
+train of musings. Then Diana felt a little shiver of cold beginning to
+creep over her; and Mr. Masters roused himself.
+
+"This is getting serious!" said he, looking at his watch. "What o'clock
+do you think it is? One, and after. Am I to make up the fires again? We
+cannot stir at present."
+
+Neither, it was found, could he make up the fires. For the coal bin was
+in the cellar or underground vault, to which the entrance was from the
+outside; and looking from the window, Mr. Masters saw that the snow had
+drifted on that side to the height of a man, covering the low door
+entirely. Hours of labour would be required to clear away the snow
+enough to give access to the coal; and the minister had not even a
+shovel. At the same time, the fires were going down, and the room was
+beginning to get chilly under the power of the searching wind, which
+found its way in by many entrances. The only resource was to walk. Mr.
+Masters gave Diana his arm, and she accepted it, and together they
+paced up and down the aisle. It was a strange walk to Diana; her
+companion was rather silent, speaking only a few words now and then;
+and it occurred to her to wonder whether this, her first walk with him,
+was to be a likeness of the whole; a progress through chilly and empty
+space. Diana was not what may be called an imaginative person, but a
+thought of this kind came over her. It did not make her change her mind
+at all respecting the agreement she had entered into; if it were to be
+so, better she should find herself at his side, she thought, than
+anywhere else. She was even glad, in a dull sort of way, that Mr.
+Masters should be pleased; pleasure for her was gone out of the world.
+Honour him she could, and did, from the bottom of her heart; but that
+was all. It was well, perhaps, for her composure that whatever pleasure
+her companion might feel in their new relations, he did not make the
+feeling obtrusively prominent. He was just his usual self, with a
+slight confidence in his manner to her which had not appeared before.
+
+So they walked.
+
+"Diana," said Mr. Masters suddenly, "have you brought no lunch with
+you?"
+
+"I forgot it. At least,--I was in such a hurry to get out of the house
+without being seen, I didn't care about anything else. If I had gone to
+the pantry, they would have found out what I was doing."
+
+"And I brought nothing to-day, of all days. I am sorry, for your sake."
+
+"I don't mind it," said Diana. "I don't feel it."
+
+"Nor I,--but that proves nothing. This won't do. It is two o'clock. We
+_must_ get away. It will be growing dark in a little while more. The
+days are just at the shortest."
+
+"I think the storm isn't quite so bad as it was," said Diana.
+
+They stood still and listened. It beat and blew, and the snow came
+thick; still the exceeding fury of the blast seemed to be lessened.
+
+"We'll give it a quarter of an hour more," said the minister.
+"Diana--we have had preaching, but we have had no praying."
+
+She assented submissively, to his look as well as his words, and they
+knelt down together in the chancel. Mr. Masters prayed, not very long,
+but a prayer full of the sweetness and the confidence and the strength,
+of a child of God who is at home in his Father's presence; full of
+tenderness and sympathy for her. Diana's mind went through a series of
+experiences in the course of that short prayer. The sweetness and the
+confidence of it touched her first with the sense of contrast, and
+wrung tears from her that were bitter; then the speaker got beyond her
+depth, into regions of feeling where she could not follow him nor quite
+understand, but that, she knew, was only because he was at home where
+she was so much a stranger; and her thoughts made a leap to the
+admiration of _him_, and then to the useless consideration, how happy
+she might have been with this man had not Evan come between. Why had he
+come, just to win her and prove himself unworthy of her? But it was
+done, and not to be undone. Evan had her heart, worthy or unworthy; she
+could not take it back; there was nothing left for her but to be a cold
+shadow walking beside this good man who was so full of all gentle and
+noble affections. Well, she was glad, since he wanted her, that she
+might lead her colourless existence by his side. That was the last
+feeling with which she rose from her knees.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+
+SETTLED.
+
+
+
+It was a very wild storm yet through which Mr. Masters drove Diana
+home. Still the wind blew hard, and the snow came driving and beating
+down upon their shoulders and faces in thick white masses; and the
+drifts had piled up in some places very high. More than once the
+sleigh, Prince and all, was near being lodged in a snow-bank, from
+which the getting free would have been a work of time; Mr. Masters had
+to get out and do some rather complicated engineering; and withal,
+through the thick and heavy snowfall it was difficult to see what they
+were coming to. Patience and coolness and good driving got the better
+of dangers however, and slowly the way was put behind them. They met
+nobody.
+
+"Mr. Masters," said Diana suddenly, "you will have to stay at our house
+to-night. You can never get back."
+
+"I don't believe Mrs. Starling will let me go," said the minister.
+
+Diana did not know exactly how to understand this. It struck a sort of
+chill to her, that he was intending at once to proclaim their new
+relations to each other; yet she could find nothing to object, and
+indeed she did not wish to object.
+
+"Mother will not be pleased," she ventured after a pause.
+
+"No, I do not expect it. We have got to face that. But she is a wise
+woman, and will know how to accommodate herself to things when she
+knows she can't help it. I will put Prince up and give him some supper,
+and then we will see."
+
+Diana accordingly went in alone. But, as it happened, Mrs. Starling was
+busied with some affairs in the outer kitchen; and Diana passed through
+and got up to her own room without any encounter. She was glad.
+Encounters were not in her line. She was somewhat leisurely, therefore,
+in taking off her wrappings and changing her dress. And as the minister
+was on the other hand as soon done with his ministrations to Prince as
+circumstances and the snow permitted, it fell out that they re-entered
+the kitchen almost at the same moment, though by different doors. It
+was the lean-to kitchen, the only place where fire was kept on Sunday:
+and indeed that was the usual winter dwelling-room, a little outer
+kitchen serving for all the dirty work. It was in what I should call
+dreary Sunday order; which means, order without life. The very chairs
+and tables seemed to say forlornly that they had nothing to do. Not so
+much as an open book proclaimed that the mistress of the place was any
+better off. However, she had other resources; for even as the minister
+came in from the snow, and Diana from up-stairs, Mrs. Starling herself
+made her appearance from the outer kitchen with a pan of potatoes in
+her hand.
+
+Mrs. Starling liked neither to be surprised, nor to seem so. Moreover,
+from the outer kitchen door she had seen Prince and the sleigh going to
+the barn, and seen, too, who was driving him. With the cunning of an
+Indian, she had made a sudden tremendous leap to conclusions; how
+arrived at, I cannot say; there is a faculty in some natures that is
+very like a power of intuition. So she came in now with a manner that
+was undeclarative of anything but grimness; gave no sign of either
+surprise or curiosity; vouchsafed the minister only a scant little nod
+of welcome, and to Diana scarce a look; and set her pan of potatoes on
+the table, while she went into the pantry for a knife.
+
+"Do you want those peeled, mother?" Diana asked.
+
+"Must have something for supper, I suppose."
+
+"Shall I do it?"
+
+"No. I guess you've done enough for one day."
+
+"_I_ have," said Mr. Masters. "And if you had driven these three miles
+in the snow, you would know it. May I have some supper, Mrs. Starling?"
+
+"There'll be enough, I guess," said the mistress of the house, with her
+knife flying round the potato in hand in a way that showed both
+practice and energy. Then presently, with a scarce perceptible glance
+up at her daughter, she added,
+
+"Where have you been?"
+
+"To church, mother."
+
+"To church!"--scornfully. "What did you do there?"
+
+"She heard preaching," said the minister, in that very quiet and
+composed way of his, which it was difficult to fight against. Few
+people ever tried; if any one could, it was Mrs. Starling.
+
+"I guess there warn't many that had the privilege?" she said
+inquiringly.
+
+"Not many," said the minister. "I never had a smaller audience--in
+church--to preach to."
+
+"Folks had better be at home such a day, and preach to themselves."
+
+"I quite agree with you. So I brought Diana back as soon as I could.
+But we have been two hours on the way."
+
+Mrs. Starling's knife flew round the potatoes; her tongue was silent.
+Diana began to set the table. Sitting by the corner of the fire to dry
+the wet spots on his clothes, the minister watched her. And Mrs.
+Starling, without looking, watched them both; and at last, having
+finished her potatoes, seized the dish and went off with it; no doubt
+to cook the supper, for savoury fumes soon came stealing in. Diana made
+coffee, not without a strange back look to a certain stormy September
+night when she had made it for some one else. It was December now--a
+December which no spring would follow; so what mattered anything,
+coffee or the rest? If there were any blessing left for her in the
+world, she believed it would be under Mr. Masters' protection and in
+his goodness. She felt dull and in a dream, but she believed that.
+
+The three had supper alone. Conversation, as far as Mrs. Starling was
+concerned, went on the pattern that has been given. Mr. Masters was at
+the whole expense of the entertainment, mentally; and he talked with
+the ease and pleasantness that seemed natural to him, of things that
+could not help interesting the others; even Diana in her deadness of
+heart, even Mrs. Starling in her perversity, pricked up their ears and
+listened. I don't believe, either, he even found it a difficult effort;
+nothing ever seemed difficult to Mr. Masters that he had to do; it was
+always done so graciously, and as if he were enjoying it himself. So no
+doubt he was. Certainly this evening; though Mrs. Starling did not
+speak many words, and Diana spoke none. So supper was finished, and the
+mistress and her guest moved their chairs to the fire, while Diana
+busied herself in putting up the things, going in and out from the
+pantry.
+
+"You'll have to keep me to-night, Mrs. Starling," said the minister.
+
+"I knew that when I saw you come in," responded the lady, not over
+graciously.
+
+"I am not going to receive hospitality under false pretences, though,"
+said the minister. "If I rob, I won't steal. Mrs. Starling, Diana and I
+have come to an agreement."
+
+"I knew that too," returned the lady defiantly.
+
+"According to which agreement," pursued the other, without change of a
+hair, "I am coming again, some other time, to take her away, out of
+your care into mine."
+
+"There go two words to that bargain," said Mrs. Starling after a
+half-minute's pause.
+
+"Two words have been spoken; mine and hers. Now we want yours."
+
+"Diana's got to take care of me."
+
+"Does that mean that she is never to marry?"
+
+"It don't mean anything ridiculous," said Mrs. Starling; "so it don't
+mean that."
+
+"I should not like to say anything ridiculous. Then, if she may marry,
+it only remains that she and you should be suited. Do you object to me
+as a son-in-law?"
+
+It is impossible to convey the impression of the manner, winning, half
+humourous, half dry, supremely careless and confident, in which all
+this was said on the minister's part. It was something almost
+impossible at the moment to withstand, and it fidgetted Mrs. Starling
+to be under the power of it. Her grudge against the minister was even
+increased by it, and yet she could not give vent to the feeling.
+
+"I'm not called upon to make objections against you in any way," she
+answered rather vaguely.
+
+"That means, of course, that you have no objections to make?"
+
+"I don't make any," said Mrs. Starling shortly.
+
+"I must be content with that," said Mr. Masters, smiling. "Diana, your
+mother makes no objections." And rising, he went and gravely kissed her.
+
+I do not know what tied Mrs. Starling's tongue. She sat before the fire
+with her hands in her lap, in an inward fury of dull displeasure; she
+had untold objections to this arrangement; and yet, though she knew she
+must speak now or never, she could not speak. Whether it were the spell
+of the minister's manner, which, as I said, worked its charm upon her
+as it did upon others; whether it were the prick of conscience, warning
+her that she had interfered once too often already in her daughter's
+life affairs; or whether, finally, she had an instinctive sense that
+things were gone too far for her hindering hand, she fumed in secret,
+and did nothing. She was a woman of sense; she knew that if a man like
+Mr. Masters loved her daughter, and had got her daughter's good-will,
+it would be an ill waste of strength on her part to try to break the
+arrangement. It might be done; but it would not be worth the scandal
+and the confusion. And she was not sure that it could be done.
+
+So she sat chewing the cud of her mortification and ire, giving little
+heed to what words passed between the others. It had come to this! She
+had schemed, she had put a violent hand upon Diana's fate, to turn it
+her own way, and now _this_ was the way it had gone! All her wrong
+deeds for nothing! She had purposed, as she said, that Diana should
+take care of her; therefore Diana should not marry any poor and proud
+young officer, nor any officer at all, to carry her away beyond reach
+and into a sphere beyond and above the sphere of her mother. No, Diana
+must marry a rich young farmer; Will Flandin would just do; a man who
+would not dislike or be anywise averse to receive such a mother-in-law
+into his house, but reckon it an added advantage. Then her home would
+be secure, and her continued rule; and ruling was as necessary to Mrs.
+Starling as eating. She would have a larger house and business to
+manage, and withal need not do herself more than she chose; having
+Diana, she would be sure of everything else she wanted. Now she had
+lost Diana. And only to a poor parson when all was done! Would it have
+been better to let her marry the officer? For Mrs. Starling had a
+shrewd guess that such would have been the issue of things if she had
+let them alone. Diana could not so have been more out of her power or
+out of her sphere; for Mrs. Starling had a certain assured
+consciousness that she would not "fit" in the minister's family, and
+that, gentle as he was, he would rule his house and his wife himself.
+She sat brooding, hardly hearing what was said by either of the others:
+and indeed, the discourse was not very lively; till Mr. Masters rose
+and bade them good night. And then Mrs. Starling still went on musing.
+Why had she not interfered at the right moment, to put a stop to this
+affair? She had let the moment go, and the thought vexed her; and her
+mood was not at all sweetened by the lurking doubt whether she could
+have stopped it if she had tried. Mrs. Starling could not abide to meet
+with her match, and sorely hated her match when she found it. What if
+she were to tell Diana of those letters of Evan? But then Diana would
+be off to the ends of the earth with _him_. Better keep her in the
+village, perhaps. Mrs. Starling grew more and more impatient.
+
+"Diana, you are a big fool!" she burst out.
+
+Diana at that moment thought _not_. She did not answer. Both were
+sitting before the wide fireplace, and Diana had not moved since Mr.
+Masters left them.
+
+"What sort of a life do you expect you are going to have?"
+
+"I don't know, mother."
+
+"You, who might marry the richest man in town!--And live in plenty, and
+have just your own way, and everything you want! You _are_ a fool I Do
+you know what it means to be a poor minister's wife?"
+
+"I shall know, I suppose. That is, if Mr. Masters is poor. I don't know
+whether he is or not."
+
+"He is of course! They all are."
+
+"Well, mother. You have taught me how to keep house on a little."
+
+"Yes, you and me; that's one thing. It's another thing when you have a
+shiftless man hanging round, and a dozen children or so, and expected
+to be civil to all the world. They always have a house full of
+children, and they are all shiftless."
+
+"Who, mother?"
+
+"Poor ministers."
+
+"Father hadn't--and wasn't."
+
+"He was as shiftless a man as ever wore shoe-leather; he wasn't a bit
+of help to a woman. All he cared for was to lose his time in his books;
+and that's the way this man'll do, and leave you to take the brunt of
+everything. _Your_ time'll go in cookin' and mendin' and washin' up;
+and you'll have to be at everybody's beck and call at the end o' that.
+If there's anything _I_ hate, it's to be in the kitchen and parlour
+both at the same time."
+
+Diana was silent.
+
+"You might have lived like a queen."
+
+"I don't want to live like a queen."
+
+"You might have had your own way, Diana."
+
+"I don't care about having my own way."
+
+"I wish you would care, then, or had a speck of spirit. What's life
+good for?"
+
+"I wish I knew"--said Diana wearily, as she rose and set back her chair.
+
+"You never will know, in that man's house. I do think, ministers are
+the meanest lot o' folks there is; and that you should go and take one
+of them!"--
+
+"It is the other way, mother; he has taken me," said Diana, half
+laughing at what seemed to her the disproportion between her mother's
+passion and the occasion for it.
+
+"You were a fool to let him."
+
+"I don't think so."
+
+"You'll be sorry yet."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"They're a shiftless lot," said Mrs. Starling rather evasively, "the
+whole of 'em. And this one has a way of holding his own in other folks'
+houses, that is intolerable to me! I never liked him, not from the very
+first."
+
+"I always liked him," said Diana simply; and she went off to her room.
+She had not expected that her mother would favour the arrangement; on
+the contrary; and it had all been settled much more easily than she had
+looked for.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+
+UNSETTLED.
+
+
+
+So things were settled, and Mrs. Starling made no attempt to unsettle
+them; on the other hand, she fell into a condition of permanent unrest
+which I do not know how to characterize. It was not ill-humour exactly;
+it was not displeasure; or if, it was displeasure at herself, but it
+was contrary to all Mrs. Starling's principles to admit that, and she
+never admitted it. Her farm servant, Josh, described her as being
+always now in an "aggravated" state; and Diana found her society very
+uncomfortable. There was never a word spoken pleasantly, by any chance,
+about anything; good was not commended, and ill was not deplored; but
+both, good and ill, were taken up in the same sharp, acrid, cynical
+tone, or treated with the like restless mockery. Mrs. Starling found no
+fault with Diana, other than by this bitter manner of handling every
+subject that came up; at the same time she made the little house where
+they lived together a place of thunderous atmosphere, where it was
+impossible to draw breath freely and peacefully. They were very much
+shut up to one another, too. That Sunday storm in December had been
+followed by successive falls of snow, so deep that the ways were
+encumbered, and travelling more difficult than usual in Pleasant Valley
+even in winter. There was very little getting about between the
+neighbours' houses; and the people let their social qualities wait for
+spring and summer to develope themselves. Diana and her mother scarcely
+saw anybody. Nick Boddington at rare intervals looked in. Joe Bartlett
+once or twice came with a message from his mother; once Diana had gone
+down to see her. Even Mr. Masters made his appearance at the little
+brown farm-house less frequently than might have been supposed; for, in
+truth, Mrs. Starling's presence made his visits rather unsatisfactory;
+and besides the two kitchen fires, there was none other in the house to
+which Diana and he could withdraw and see each other alone. So he came
+only now and then, and generally did not stay very long.
+
+To Diana, all this while, the coming or the going, the solitude or the
+company, even the good or ill humours of her mother, seemed to be of
+little importance. She lived her own shut-up, deadened, secret life
+through it all, and had no nerves of sensation near enough to the
+surface to be affected much by what went on outside of her. What though
+her mother was all the while in a rasped sort of state? it could not
+rasp Diana; she seemed to wear a coat of mail. Neighbours? no
+neighbours were anything to her one way or another; if she could be
+said to like anything, it was to be quite alone and see and hear
+nobody. Her marriage she looked at in the same dull way; with a
+thought, so far as she gave it a thought, that in the minister's house
+her life would be more quiet, and peace and good-will would replace the
+eager disquiet around her which, without minding it, Diana yet
+perceived. More quiet and better, she hoped her life would be; her life
+and herself; she thought the minister was getting a bad bargain of it,
+but since it was his pleasure, she thought it was a good thing for her;
+every time she met the gentle kind eyes and felt the warm clasp of his
+hand, Diana repeated the assurance to herself. The girl had sunk again
+into mental torpor; she did not see nor hear nor feel; she lived along
+a mechanical sort of life, having relapsed into her former stunned
+condition. Not crushed--there was too much of Diana's nature for one
+blow or perhaps many blows to effect that; not beaten down, like some
+other characters; she went on her way upright, alert, and strong, doing
+and expecting to do the work of life to its utmost measure; all the
+same, walking as a ghost might walk through the scenes of his former
+existence; with no longer any natural conditions to put her at one with
+them, and only conscious of her dead heart. This state of things had
+given way in the fall to a few months of incessant and very live pain;
+with her betrothal to the minister Diana had sunk again into the
+dulness of apathy. But with a constitution mental and physical like
+hers, so full of sound life-blood, so true and strong, in the nature of
+things this state of apathetic sleep could not last for ever. And the
+time of final waking came.
+
+The winter had dragged its length away. Spring had come, with its
+renewal of all the farm and household activities. Diana stood up to her
+work and did it, day by day, with faultless accuracy, with blameless
+diligence. She was too useful a helper not to be missed unwillingly
+from any household that had once known her; and Mrs. Starling's temper
+did not improve. It had been arranged that Diana's marriage should take
+place about the first of June. Spring work over, and summer going on
+its orderly way, she could be easiest spared then, she thought; and
+Mrs. Starling, seeing it must be, made no particular objection. Beyond
+the time, nothing had been talked of yet concerning the occasion. So it
+was a hitherto untouched question, when Mrs. Starling asked her
+daughter one day,--"What sort of a wedding are you calculatin' to have?"
+
+"What sort of a wedding? I don't know," said Diana. "What do you mean
+by a wedding?"
+
+"The thing is, what _you_ mean by it. Don't be a baby, Diana Starling!
+Do you mean to ask your friends to see you married?"
+
+"I don't want anybody, I am sure," said Diana. "And I am sure Mr.
+Masters does not care."
+
+"Are you going to be married in a black gown?"
+
+"Black! No; but I do not care what kind of a gown it is, further than
+that."
+
+"I don't think you care much about the whole thing," said Mrs.
+Starling, looking at her. "If I was you, I wouldn't be married just to
+please somebody else, without it pleased myself too. That's what _I_
+think."
+
+Poor Diana thought of Mr. Masters' face as she had seen it the last
+time; and it seemed to her good to give somebody else pleasure, even if
+pleasure were gone and out of the question for her. This view of the
+question, naturally, she did not make public.
+
+"What _are_ you going to marry this man for?" said Mrs. Starling,
+standing straight up (she had been bending over some work) and looking
+hard at her daughter.
+
+"I hope he'll make a good woman of me," Diana said soberly.
+
+"If you had a little more spunk, you might make a good man of him; but
+you aren't the woman to do it. He wants his pride taken down a bit."
+
+"But what about the day, mother?" said Diana, who preferred not to
+discuss this subject.
+
+"Well, if you haven't thought of it, I have; and I'm going to ask all
+the folks there are; and we've got to make a spread for 'em, Diana
+Starling, so we may as well be about it."
+
+"Already!" said Diana. "It's weeks yet."
+
+"They'll run away, you'll find; and the cake'll be better for keepin'.
+You may go about stonin' the fruit as soon as you're a mind to."
+
+Diana said no more, but stoned her raisins and picked over her currants
+and sliced her citron, with the same apathetic want of realization
+which lately she had brought to everything. It might have been cake for
+anybody else's wedding that she was getting ready, so little did her
+fingers recognise the relation of the things with herself. The cake was
+made and baked and iced and ornamented. And then Mrs. Starling's
+activities went on to other items of preparation. Seeing Diana would be
+married, she meant it should be done in a way the country-side would
+not forget; neither should Mrs. Flandin make mental comparisons,
+pityingly, of the wedding that was, with the wedding that would have
+been with her son for the bridegroom. Baking and boiling and roasting
+and jellying went on in quantity, for Mrs. Starling was a great cook,
+and could do things in style when she chose. The house was put in
+order; fresh curtains hung up, and the handsomest linen laid out, and
+greens and flowers employed to cover and deck the severely plain walls
+and furniture. One thing more Mrs. Starling wished for which she was
+not likely to have, the presence of one of the Elmfield family on the
+occasion. She would have liked some one of them to be there, in order
+that sure news of the whole might go to Evan and beyond possibility of
+doubt; for a lurking fear of his sudden appearing some time had long
+hidden in Mrs. Starling's mind. I do not know what she feared in such a
+case. Of the two, Evan was hardly more distasteful to her as a
+son-in-law than the minister was; though it is true that her action in
+the matter of burning the letters had made her hate the man she had
+injured. This feeling was counterbalanced, I confess, by another
+feeling of the delight it would be to see Mr. Masters nonplussed; but
+on the whole, she preferred that Evan should keep at a distance.
+
+All the work and confusion of these last few weeks claimed Diana's full
+time and strength, as well as her mother's; she had scarcely a minute
+to think; and that was one reason, no doubt, why she went through them
+with such unchanged composure. They were all behind her at last.
+Everything was in order and readiness, down to the smallest particular;
+and it was with a dull sense of this that Diana went up to her room the
+last night before her wedding day. It was all done, and the time was
+all gone.
+
+She went in slowly, went to the window, opened it and sat down before
+it. June had come again; one day of June was passed, and to-morrow
+would be the second. Through the bustle of May, Diana had hardly given
+a look to the weather or a thought to the time of year; it greeted her
+now at her window like a dear old friend that she had been forgetting.
+The moon, about an hour high, gave a gentle illumination through the
+dewy air, revealing plainly enough the level meadows, and the hills
+which made their distant bordering. The scent of roses and honeysuckles
+was abroad; just under Diana's window there was a honeysuckle vine in
+full blossom, and the rich, peculiar fragrance came in heavily-laden
+puffs of air; the softest of breezes brought them, stirring the little
+leaves lazily, and just touched Diana's face, sweet and tender,
+reminding, caressing. Reminding of what? For it began to stir vaguely
+and uneasily in Diana's heart. Things not thought of before put in a
+claim to be looked at. This her home and sanctuary for so many years,
+it was to be hers no longer. This was the last night at her window, by
+her honeysuckle vine. She would not have another evening the enjoyment
+of her wonted favourite view over the fields and hills; she had done
+with all that. Other scenes, another home, would claim her; and then
+slowly rose the thought that her freedom was gone; this was the last
+time she would belong to herself. Oddly enough, nothing of all this had
+come under consideration before. Diana had been stunned; she had
+believed for a long time that she was dead, mentally; she had been, as
+it were, in a slumber, partly of hopelessness, partly of preoccupation;
+now the time of waking had come; and the hidden life in her stirred and
+rose and shivered with the consciousness that it _was_ alive and in its
+full strength, and what it meant for it to be alive now. As I said,
+Diana's nature was too sound and well-balanced and strong for anything
+to crush it, or even any part of it; and now she knew that the nerves
+of feeling she thought Evan had killed for ever, were all astir and
+quivering, and would never be fooled into slumbering again. I cannot
+tell how all this dawned and broke to her consciousness. She had sat
+down at her window a calm, weary-hearted girl, placid, and with even a
+dull sort of content upon her; so she had sat and dreamed awhile; and
+then June and moonlight, and her honeysuckle, and the roses, and the
+memory of her free childish days, and the image of her lost lover, and
+the thought of where she was standing, by degrees--how gently they did
+it, too--roused her and pricked her up to the consciousness of what she
+going to do. What was she going to do? Marry a man who had no real
+place in her heart. She had thought it did not matter; she had thought
+she was dead; now all at once she knew that she was alive in every
+fibre, and that it mattered fearfully. The idea of Mr. Masters stung
+her, not as novel-writers say "almost to madness,"--for there was no
+such irregularity in Diana's round, sound, healthy nature,--but to pain
+that seemed unbearable. No confusion in her brain, and no dulness now;
+on the contrary, an intense consciousness of all that her position
+involved. She had made a mistake, like many another; unlike many, she
+had found it out early. She was going to marry a man to whom she had no
+love to give; and she knew now that the life she must thenceforth lead
+would be daily torture. Almost the worse because she had for Mr.
+Masters so deep a respect and so true an appreciation. And he loved
+her; of that there was no question; the whole affection of the best man
+she had ever known was bestowed upon her, and in his hopes he saw
+doubtless a future when she would have learnt to return his love. "And
+I never shall," thought Diana. "Never, as long as I live. I wonder if I
+shall get to hate him because I am obliged to live with him? All the
+heart I have is Evan's, and will be Evan's; it don't make any
+difference that he was not worthy of me, as I suppose he wasn't; I have
+given, and I cannot take back. And now I must live with this other
+man!"--Diana shuddered already.
+
+She shed no tears. Happy are they whose grief can flow; part of the
+oppression, at least, flows off with tears, if not part of the pain.
+Eyes wide open, staring out into the moonlight; a rigid face, from
+which the colour gradually ebbed and ebbed away, more and more; so
+Diana kept the watch of her bridal eve. As the moon got higher, and the
+world lay clearer revealed under its light, shadows grew more defined,
+and objects more recognisable, it seemed as if in due proportion the
+life before Diana's mental vision opened and displayed itself, plainer
+and clearer; as she saw one, she saw the other. If Diana had been a
+woman of the world, her strength of character would have availed to do
+what many a woman of the world has not the force for; she would have
+drawn back at the last minute and declined to fulfil her engagement.
+But in the sphere of Diana's experience, such a thing was unheard of.
+All the proprieties, all the conditions of the social life that was
+known to her, forbade even the thought; and the thought never came to
+her. She felt just as much bound, that is, as irrecoverably, as she
+would be twenty-four hours later. But she was like a caged wild animal.
+The view of the sweet moonlit country became unbearable at last, and
+she walked up and down her floor; she had a vague idea of tiring
+herself so that she could sleep. She did get tired of walking, but no
+sleep came; and at last she sat down again before her window to watch
+another change that was coming over the landscape. The moon was down,
+and a cool grey light, very unlike her soft glamour, was stealing into
+the sky and upon the world. Yes, the day was coming; the clear light of
+a matter-of-fact, work-a-day creation. It was coming, and she must meet
+it, and march on in the procession of life, which would leave no one
+out. If she could go alone! But she must walk by another's side now.
+And to that other, the light of this grey dawn, if he saw it, brought
+only thoughts of joy. Could she help his being disappointed? Would she
+be able to help his finding out what a dreadful mistake he had made,
+and she? "I _must_," thought Diana, and set her teeth mentally; "he
+must not know how I feel; he does not deserve that. He deserves nothing
+but good, of me or of anybody. I will give him all I can, and he shall
+not know how I do it."
+
+With a recoil in every fibre of her nature, Diana turned to take up her
+life burden. She felt as if she had had none till now.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+
+NEW LIFE.
+
+
+
+The first week of Diana's marriage was always a blank in her memory.
+The one continual, intense strain of effort to hide from her husband
+what she was thinking and feeling swallowed up everything else. Mr.
+Masters had procured a comfortable little light rockaway, and avoiding
+all public thoroughfares and conveyances, had driven off with Diana
+among the leafy wildernesses of the White Mountains; going where they
+liked and stopping where they liked. It was more endurable to Diana
+than any other way of spending those days could have been; the constant
+change and activity, and the variety of new things always claiming
+attention and admiration, gave her all the help circumstances could
+give. They offered abundance of subjects for Mr. Masters to talk about;
+and Diana could listen, and with a word or two now and then get along
+quite passably. But of all the beauty they went through, of all the
+glory of those June days, of all the hours of conversation that went
+on, Diana kept in her memory but the one fact of continual striving to
+hinder Mr. Masters from seeing her heart. She supposed she succeeded;
+she never could tell. For one other thing forced itself upon her
+consciousness as the days went on--a growing appreciation of this man
+whom she did not love. His gentleness of manner, his tender care and
+consideration for her, the even sweetness of temper which nothing
+disturbed and which would let nothing disturb her, playing with
+inconveniences which he could not remove; and then, beneath all that, a
+strength of character and steady force of will which commanded her
+utmost respect and drew forth her fullest confidence. It hurt Diana's
+conscience terribly that she had given this man a wife who, as she said
+to herself, was utterly unworthy of him; to make this loss good, so far
+as any possible service or life-work could, she would have done
+anything or submitted to anything. It was the one wish left her.
+
+"What do you think of going home?" Mr. Masters asked suddenly one
+evening. They had come back from a glorious ramble over the nearest
+mountain, and were sitting after supper in front of the small
+farm-house where they had found lodging, looking out upon the view.
+Twilight was settling down upon the green hills. Diana started and
+repeated his word.
+
+"Home?"
+
+"Yes. I mean Pleasant Valley," said the minister, smiling. "Not the
+house where I first saw you. There are one or two sick people, from
+whom I do not feel that I can be long away."
+
+"You always think of other people first!" said Diana, almost with a
+sigh.
+
+"So do you."
+
+"No, I do not. I do not think I do. It seems to me I have always
+thought most of myself."
+
+"You can begin now, then, to do better."
+
+"In thinking of you first, you mean? O yes, I do. I will. But you think
+of people you do not care for."
+
+"No, I don't. Never. You cannot think of people you do not care for, in
+the way you mean. They will not come into your head."
+
+"How can one do then, Basil? How do _you_ do?"
+
+"Obviously, the only way is to care for them."
+
+"Who is sick in Pleasant Valley?"
+
+"Nobody you know. One is an old man who lives back on the mountain; the
+other is a woman near Blackberry hill."
+
+"Blackberry hill? do you go _there?_"
+
+"Now and then."
+
+"But those are dreadful people there."
+
+"Well," said the minister, "they want help so much the more."
+
+"Help to live, do you mean? They do stealing enough for that."
+
+"Nobody _lives_ by stealing," said the minister. "It is one of the ways
+of death; and help to live is just what they want. But 'how shall they
+believe on him of whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear
+without a preacher'?"
+
+"And do you _preach_ to them in that place?"
+
+"I try."
+
+"But there is no church there?"
+
+"When you have got anything to do," said the minister, with a dry sort
+of humourousness which belonged to him, "it is best not be stopped by
+trifles."
+
+"Where do you preach, then, Basil?"
+
+"Wherever I can find a man or a woman to listen to me."
+
+"In the houses?" exclaimed Diana.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well, we never had a minister in Pleasant Valley like you before."
+
+"Didn't you?"
+
+"I don't believe anybody ever went to those people to preach to them,
+until you went."
+
+"They had a good deal of that appearance," Mr. Masters assented.
+
+"But," Diana began again after a short pause, "to go back; Basil, you
+do not _care_ for those people?"
+
+"I think I do," said the minister very quietly.
+
+"I suppose you do!" said Diana, in a sort of admiration. "But how can
+you?"
+
+"Easy to tell," was the answer. "God made them, and God loves them; I
+love all that my Father loves. And Christ died for them; and I seek the
+lost whom my Master came to save. And there is not one of them but has
+in him the possibility of glory; and I see that possibility, and when I
+see it, Diana, it seems to me a small thing to give my life, if need
+be, that it may be realized."
+
+"I am not good enough to be your wife!" said Diana, sinking her head.
+And her secret self-abasement was very deep.
+
+"Does that mean, that you object to the cutting short of our holiday?"
+the minister asked, in his former tone of dry humourous suggestion.
+
+"I?" said Diana, looking up and meeting his eyes. "No, certainly. I am
+ready for whatever you wish, and whenever you wish."
+
+"I don't wish it at all," said the minister, giving a somewhat longing
+look at the green wilderness before them, of which the lovely hilly
+outlines were all that the gathering twilight left distinct. "But the
+thing is, Di, I cannot play when I ought to be working."
+
+It made little difference to Diana. Indeed, she had a hope that in her
+new home she would find, as she always had found in her old home,
+engrossing duties that would make her part easier to get through, and
+in some measure put a check to the rush of thought and feeling. So with
+her full consent the very next day they set out upon their journey
+home. It was not a great journey, indeed; a long day's drive would do
+it; their horse was fresh, and they had time for a comfortable rest and
+dinner at mid-day. The afternoon was very fair, and as they began to
+get among the hills overlooking Pleasant Valley, something in air or
+light reminded Diana of the time, two years ago, when she had gone up
+the brook with Evan. She began to talk to get rid of her thoughts.
+
+"What a nice, comfortable little carriage this is, Basil! Where did it
+come from?"
+
+"From Boston."
+
+"From Boston! I thought there was nothing like it in Pleasant Valley,
+that ever I saw. But how did you get it from Boston?"
+
+"Where's the difficulty?" said the minister, sitting at ease sideways
+on the front seat and looking in at her. He had put Diana on the back
+seat, that she might take a more resting position than there was room
+for beside him.
+
+"Why, it's so far."
+
+"Railway comes to Manchester. I received it there, and that is only ten
+miles. I rode Saladin over a few days ago, and drove him back. I had
+ordered the set of harness sent with the rockaway. Ecco!"
+
+"Echo?" said Diana. "Where?"
+
+"A very sweet echo," said the minister, smiling. "Didn't you hear it?"
+
+"No. But Basil, do you mean that this carriage is yours?"
+
+"No; it is yours."
+
+"Mine! then you have bought it! Didn't it cost a great deal?"
+
+"I thought not. If you like it, certainly not."
+
+"O, Basil, you are very good!" said Diana humbly. "But indeed I do not
+want you to go to any expense, ever, for me."
+
+"I am not a poor man, Diana."
+
+"Aren't you? I thought you were."
+
+"What right had you to think anything about it?"
+
+"I thought ministers were always poor."
+
+"I am an exception, then."
+
+"And--Basil--you never acted like a rich man."
+
+"I am not going to, Di. Do you want to act like a rich woman?"
+
+Spite of her desperate downheartedness, Diana could not help laughing a
+little at his manner.
+
+"I do not wish anything different from you," she answered.
+
+"It is best for every reason, if you would use money to advantage in a
+place like this, not to make a show of it. And in other places, if you
+would use it to advantage, you _cannot_ make a show of it. So it comes
+to the same thing. But short of that, Di, we can do what we like."
+
+"I know what you like,"--she said.
+
+"I shall find out what you like. In the first place, where do you think
+you are going?"
+
+"Where? I never thought about it. I suppose to Mrs. Persimmon's."
+
+"I don't think you would like that. The place was not exactly pleasant;
+and the house accommodations did very well for me, but would not have
+been comfortable for you. So I have set up housekeeping in another
+locality. Do you know where a woman named Cophetua lives?"
+
+"I never heard of her."
+
+"Out of your beat. She lives a little off the road to the Blackberry
+Hill. I have taken her house, and put a woman in it to do whatever you
+want done."
+
+"I? But we never kept help, since I can remember, Basil; not house
+help."
+
+"Well? That proves nothing."
+
+"But I don't need anybody--I can do all that we want."
+
+"You will find enough to do."
+
+Mr. Masters quickened the pace of his horse, and Diana sat back in the
+carriage, half dismayed. She longed to lose herself in work, and she
+wished for nothing less than eyes to watch her.
+
+It was almost evening when they got home. The place was, as Mr. Masters
+had said, out of what had been Diana's way hitherto; in a part of
+Pleasant Valley which was at one side of the high road. The situation
+was very pretty, overlooking a wide sweep of the valley bottom, with
+its rich cultivation and its encircling border of green wooded hills.
+As to the house, it was not distinguished in any way beyond its
+compeers. It was rather low; it was as brown as Mrs. Starling's house;
+it had no giant elms to hang over it and veil its uncomelinesses. But
+just behind it rose a green hill; the house, indeed, stood on the lower
+slope of the hill, which fell off more gently towards the bottom;
+behind the house it lifted up a very steep, rocky wall, yet not so
+steep but that it was grown with beautiful forest trees. Set off
+against its background of wood and hill, the house looked rather cosy.
+It had been put in nice order, and even the little plot of ground in
+front had been cleared of thistles and hollyhocks, which had held a
+divided reign, and trimmed into neatness, though there had not been
+time yet for grass or flowers to grow.
+
+Within the house about this time, at one of the two lower front
+windows, a little woman stood looking out and speculating on the
+extreme solitariness of the situation. She had nobody to communicate
+her sentiments to, or she could have been eloquent on the subject. The
+golden glow and shimmer of the setting sun all over the wide landscape,
+it may be said with truth, she did not see; to her it was nothing but
+"sunshine," a natural and necessary accessory of the sun's presence,
+when clouds did not happen to come over the sky. I think she really saw
+nothing but the extreme emptiness of the picture before her; just that
+one fact, that there was nothing to see. Therefore it was on various
+accounts an event when the rockaway hove in sight, and the grey horse
+stopped before the gate. It did not occur to Miss Collins then to go
+out to the carriage to receive bundles or baskets or render help
+generally; she had got something to look at, and she looked. Only when
+the minister, having tied Saladin's head, came leading the way through
+the little courtyard to the front door, did it occur to his "help" to
+open the same. There she stood, smiling the blankest of smiles, which
+made Diana want to get rid of her on the instant.
+
+"Well, of all things!" was her salutation uttered in a high key. "If it
+ain't you! I never was so beat. Why, I didn't look for ye this long
+spell yet."
+
+"Won't you let us come in, Miss Collins, seeing we are here?"
+
+"La! I'm glad to see ye, fust-rate," was the answer as she stepped
+back; and stepping further back as Mr. Masters advanced, at last she
+pushed open the door of her kitchen, which was the front room on that
+side, and backed in, followed by the minister and, at a little
+interval, by his wife. Miss Collins went on talking. "How do, Mis'
+Masters? I speck I can't be under no mistake as to the personality,
+though I hain't had the pleasure o' a introduction. But I thought
+honeymoon folks allays make it last as long as they could?" she went
+on, turning her eyes from Diana to the minister again; "and you hain't
+been no time at all."
+
+"What have you got in the house, Miss Collins? anything for supper? I
+am hungry," said the latter.
+
+"Wall--happiness makes some folks hungry,--and some, they say, it feeds
+'em," Miss Collins returned. "Folks is so unlike! But if you're hungry,
+Mr. Masters, you'll have to have sun'thin."
+
+Leaving her to prepare it, with a laughing twinkle in his eye the
+minister led Diana out of that room and along a short passage to
+another door. The passage was very narrow, the ceiling was low, the
+walls whitewashed, the wainscotting blue; and yet the room which they
+entered, though sharing in all the items of this description, was
+homely and comfortable. It was furnished in a way that made it seem
+elegant to Diana. A warm-coloured dark carpet on the floor, two or
+three easy-chairs, a wide lounge covered with chintz, and chintz
+curtains at the windows. On the walls here and there single shelves of
+dark wood put up for books, and filled with them; a pretty lamp on the
+little leaf table, and a wide fireplace with bright brass andirons. The
+windows looked out upon the wooded mountain-side. Diana uttered an
+exclamation of surprise and admiration.
+
+"This is your room, Di," said the minister. "The kitchen has the view:
+I did think of changing about and making the kitchen here: but the
+other room has so long been used in that way, I was afraid it would be
+a bad exchange. However, we will do it yet, if you like."
+
+"Change? why, this room is beautiful!" cried Diana.
+
+"Looks out into the hill."
+
+"O, I like that."
+
+"Don't make it a principle to like everything I do," said he, smiling.
+
+"But I _do_ like it, Basil; I like it better than the other side," said
+Diana. "I just love the trees and the rocks. And you can hear the birds
+sing. And the room is most beautiful."
+
+Mr. Masters had opened the windows, and there came in a spicy breath
+from the woods, together with the wild warble of a wood-thrush. It was
+so wild and sweet, they both were still to listen. The notes almost
+broke Diana's heart, but she would not show that.
+
+"What do you think that bird is saying?" she asked.
+
+"I don't know what it may be to _his_ mind; I know what it to mine.
+Pray, what does it say to yours?"
+
+"It is too plaintive for the bird to know what it means," said Diana.
+
+"Probably. I have no doubt the ancients were right when they felt
+certain animals to be types of good and others of evil. I think it is
+true, in detail and variety. I have the same feeling. And in like
+manner, carrying out the principle, I hear one bird say one thing and
+another another, in their countless varieties of song."
+
+"Did the ancients think that?"
+
+"Don't you remember the distinction between clean beasts and unclean?"
+
+"I thought that was ordered."
+
+"It was ordered to be observed. The distinction was felt before."
+
+They were again silent a moment, while the thrush's song filled the air
+with liquid rejoicing.
+
+"That bird," said Diana slowly, "sings as if he had got somewhere above
+all the sins and troubles and fights of life; I mean, as if he were a
+human being who had got there."
+
+"That will do," said the minister.
+
+"But that's impossible; so why should he sing it?"
+
+"Take it the other way," said the minister, smiling.
+
+"You mean"--said Diana, looking up, for she had sat down before the
+open window, and he stood by her side;--"you mean, he would not sing a
+false note?"
+
+"Nor God make a promise he would not fulfil. Come up-stairs."
+
+"But, Basil!--how could the bird's song be a promise from God?"
+
+"Think;--he gave the song, Diana. As has been said of visible things in
+nature, so it may be said of audible things,--every one of them is _the
+expression of a thought of God_."
+
+He did not wait for an answer, and Diana's mind was too full to give
+one. Up-stairs they went. The room over Diana's was arranged to be Mr.
+Masters' study; the other, above the kitchen, looked out upon a
+glorious view of the rich valley and its encompassing hills; both were
+exceedingly neat and pretty in their furniture and arrangements, in all
+of which Diana's comfort had been sedulously cared for. Her husband
+showed her the closet for her boxes, and opened the huge press prepared
+for her clothes; and taking off her bonnet, welcomed her tenderly home.
+But it seemed to Diana as if everything stifled her, and she would have
+liked to flee to the hills, like the wild creatures that had their home
+there. Her outward demeanour, for all that, was dignified and sweet.
+Whatever she felt, she would not give pain.
+
+"You are too good to me," she murmured. "I will be as good as I can,
+Basil, to you."
+
+"I know it," said he.
+
+"And I think I had better begin," she presently added more lightly, "by
+going down and seeing how Miss Collins and supper are getting on."
+
+"I daresay they will get on to some sort of consummation."
+
+"It will be a better consummation, if you let me go."
+
+Perhaps he divined something of her feeling, for he made no objection,
+and Diana escaped; with a sense that her only refuge was in action. To
+do something, no matter what, and stop thinking. Yet, when she went
+down-stairs, she went first to the back room and to the open window, to
+see if she could catch the note of the thrush once more. It came to her
+like a voice from the other world. He was still singing; somewhere up
+amid the cool shades of the hemlocks and oaks on the hill, from out the
+dusky twilight of their tops; sending his tremulous trills of triumph
+down the hillside, he was undoubtedly having a good time. Diana
+listened a minute, and then went to the kitchen. Miss Collins was
+standing in front of the fire contemplating it, or the kettle she had
+hung over it.
+
+"Where is Mr. Masters' supper?" Diana began.
+
+"Don't you take none?" was the rejoinder.
+
+"I mean, what can we have?"
+
+"You can have all there is. And there ain't nothin' in the house but
+what's no 'count. If I'd ha' knowed--honeymoon folks wants sun'thin'
+tip-top, been livin' on the fat o' the land, I expect; and now ye're
+come home to pork; and that's the hull on't."
+
+"Pork will do," said Diana, "if it is good. Have you no ham?"
+
+"Lots. That's pork, ain't it?"
+
+"Eggs?"
+
+"Yes, there's eggs."
+
+"Potatoes?"
+
+"La, I didn't expect ye'd want potatoes at this time o' day."
+
+Diana informed herself of the places of things, and set herself and
+Miss Collins vigorously to work. The handmaid looked on somewhat
+ungraciously at the quiet, competent energy of her superior, the smile
+on her broad mouth gradually fading.
+
+"Reckon you don't know me," she remarked presently.
+
+"Yes, I do," said Diana; "you are Jemima Collins, that used to live at
+the post office. How came you here?"
+
+"Wall, there's nothin' but changes in the world, I expect; that's _my_
+life. Mis' Reems, to the post office, had her mother come home to live
+with her; owin' to her father gettin' his arm took off in some
+'chinery, which was the death o' him; so the mother come home to her
+daughter, and then they made it out as they two was equal to all there
+was to do; and I don't say they warn't; but that was reason enough why
+they didn't want me no longer. And then I stayed with Miss Gunn a
+spell, helpin' her get her house cleaned; and then the minister made
+out as he wanted a real 'sponsible person for to take care o' _his_
+house, and Miss Gunn she told him what she knowed about me; and so I
+moved in. La, it's a change from the post office! It was sort o' lively
+there; allays comin' and goin', and lots o' news."
+
+Diana made no answer. The very mention of the post office gave her a
+sort of pang; about that spot her hopes had hovered for so long, and
+with such bitter disillusionising. She sent Miss Collins to set the
+table in the other room, and presently, having finished her cookery,
+followed with it herself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+
+SUPPER AT HOME.
+
+
+
+The windows were open still, and the dusky air without was full of cool
+freshness. In the wide fireplace the minister had kindled a fire; and
+in a little blue teapot he was just making the tea; the kettle stood on
+the hearth. It was as pretty and cheerful a home view as any bride need
+wish to see for the first evening in her new house. Diana knew it, and
+took the effect, which possibly was only heightened by the
+consciousness that she wished herself five hundred miles away. What the
+picture was to her husband she had no idea, nor that the crowning
+feature of it was her own beautiful, sweet presence. Miss Collins
+brought in the prepared dishes, and left the two alone.
+
+"I see I have fallen into new hands," the minister remarked presently.
+"Mrs. Persimmon never cooked these eggs."
+
+"You must have been tired of living in that way, I should think."
+
+"No,--I never get tired of anything."
+
+"Not of bad things?"
+
+"No. I get rid of them."
+
+"But how can you?"
+
+"Different ways."
+
+"Can you do everything you want to, Basil?" his wife asked, with an
+incredulous sort of admiration.
+
+"I'll do everything you want me to do."
+
+"You have already,--and more," she said with a sigh.
+
+"How will your helpmeet in the other room answer the purpose?"
+
+"I have never been used to have anybody, you know, Basil; and I do not
+need any one. I can do all easily myself."
+
+"I know you can. I do not wish you should."
+
+"Then what will you give me to do?"
+
+"Plenty."
+
+"I don't care what--if I can only be busy. I cannot bear to be idle.
+What shall I do, Basil?"
+
+"Is there nothing you would like to study, that you have never had a
+chance to learn?"
+
+"Learn?" said Diana, a whole vista of possible new activities opening
+all at once before her mind's eye;--"O yes! I would like to learn--to
+study. What, Basil?"
+
+"What would you like to take hold of?"
+
+"I would like--Latin."
+
+"Latin!" cried the minister. "That's an excellent choice. Greek too?"
+
+"I would like to learn Greek, very much. But I suppose I must begin
+with one at once."
+
+"How about modern languages?"
+
+"You know," said Diana shyly,--"I can have no teacher but you."
+
+"And you stand in doubt as to my qualifications? Prudent!"
+
+"I will learn anything you like to teach me," said Diana; and her look
+was both very sweet and very humble; withal had something of an anxious
+strain in it.
+
+"Then there's another thing; don't you want to help me?"
+
+"How?"
+
+"In my work."
+
+"How can I?"
+
+"I don't believe you know what my work is," said the minister dryly.
+"Do you, now?"
+
+"I thought I did," said Diana.
+
+"Preaching sermons, to wit!" said the minister. "But that is only one
+item. My business is to work in my Master's vineyard."
+
+"Yes, and I thought that was how you did it."
+
+"But a man may preach many sermons, and do never a bit of work,--of the
+sort I mentioned."
+
+"What is the sort, then, Basil?"
+
+"I'll show you when we get away from the table. It is time you knew."
+
+So, when the supper tray and Miss Collins were gone, the minister took
+his Bible and made Diana sit down beside him where they could both look
+over it.
+
+"Your notion of a minister is, that he is a sort of machine to make
+sermons?"
+
+"I never thought you were a _machine_, of any sort," said Diana gently.
+
+"No, of course not; but you thought that was my special business,
+didn't you? Now look here.--'Son of man, I have made thee a watchman
+unto the house of Israel: therefore hear the word at my mouth and give
+them warning from me.'"
+
+"A watchman"--Diana repeated.
+
+"It is a responsible post, too, for see over here,--'If the watchman
+see the sword come, and blow not the trumpet, and the people be not
+warned; if the sword come, and take any person from among them, he is
+taken away in his iniquity; _but his blood will I require at the
+watchman's hand_.'"
+
+"Do you mean, Basil"--
+
+"Yes, I mean all that. You can understand now what was in Paul's mind,
+and what a great word it was, when he said to the Ephesian elders, 'I
+take you to record this day, that I am pure from the blood of all men.'
+He had done his whole duty in that place!"
+
+
+"I never felt that old Mr. Hardenburgh warned us against anything,"
+Diana remarked.
+
+"Did I?"
+
+"You began to make me uncomfortable almost as soon as you came."
+
+"That's good," said the minister quietly. "Now see these words,
+Diana,--'Go ye into all the world, and tell the good news to
+everybody.'"
+
+"'Preach the gospel'"--said Diana.
+
+"That is simply, telling the good news."
+
+"Is it?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"But, Basil, it never seemed so."
+
+"There was a reason for that. 'As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is
+good news from a far country.' You were not thirsty, that is all."
+
+"Basil," said Diana, almost tremulously, "I think I am now."
+
+"Well," said her husband tenderly, "you know who could say, and did
+say, 'If any man thirst, let him come unto ME and drink.' 'I am the
+bread of life; he that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that
+believeth on me shall never thirst.'"
+
+That bringing together of need and supply, while yet Need does not see
+how it is to stretch out its hand to take the supply--how sharp and how
+pitiful it makes the sense of longing! Diana drooped her head till it
+touched Basil's arm; it seemed to her that her heart would fairly break.
+
+"But that doesn't mean"--she said, bringing out her words with
+hesitation and difficulty,--"that does not mean hunger of every sort?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Of earthly sorts, Basil? how can it? people's desires for so many
+things?"
+
+"Is there any limit or qualification to the promise?"
+
+"N-o; not there."
+
+"Is there anywhere else?"
+
+Diana was silent.
+
+"There is none anywhere, except the limit put by the faith of the
+applicant. I have known a person starving to death, relieved for the
+time even from the pangs of bodily hunger by the food which Christ gave
+her. There is no condition of human extremity for which he is not
+sufficient."
+
+"But," said Diana, still speaking with difficulty, "that is for some
+people."
+
+"For some people--and for everybody else."
+
+"But--he would not like to have anybody go to him just for such a
+reason."
+
+"He will never ask _why_ you came, if you come. He was in this world to
+relieve misery, and to save from it. 'Him that cometh to me I will in
+no wise cast out,' is his own word. He will help you if you will let
+him, Diana."
+
+Diana's head pressed more heavily against Basil's arm; the temptation
+was to break out into wild weeping at this contact of sympathy, but she
+would not. Did her husband guess how much she was in want of help? That
+thought half frightened her. Presently she raised her head and sat up.
+
+"Here is another verse," said her husband, "which tells of a part of my
+work. 'Go ye into the highways, and as many as ye shall find, _bid to
+the marriage_.'"
+
+"I don't understand"--
+
+"'The kingdom of heaven is like unto a certain king which made a
+marriage for his son,'--it means rather a wedding entertainment."
+
+"How, Basil?"
+
+"The Bridegroom is Christ. The bride is the whole company of his
+redeemed. The time is by and by, when they shall be all gathered
+together, all washed from defilement, all dressed in the white robes of
+the king's court which are given them, and delivered from the last
+shadow of mortal sorrow and infirmity. Then in glory begins their
+perfected, everlasting union with Christ; then the wedding is
+celebrated; and the supper signifies the fulness and communion of his
+joy in them and their joy in him."
+
+Basil's voice was a little subdued as he spoke the last words, and he
+paused a few minutes.
+
+"It is my business to bid people to that supper," he said then; "and I
+bid you, Di."
+
+"I will go, Basil."
+
+But the words were low and the tears burst forth, and Diana hurried
+away.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+
+THE MINISTER'S WIFE.
+
+
+
+Diana plunged herself now into business. She was quite in earnest in
+the promise she had made at the end of the conversation last recorded;
+but to set about a work is one thing and to carry it through is
+another; and Diana did not immediately see light. In the meanwhile, the
+pressure of the bonds of her new existence was only to be borne by
+forgetting it in intense occupation. Her husband wanted her to study
+many things; for her own sake and for his own sake he wished it,
+knowing that her education had been exceedingly one-sided and
+imperfect; he wanted all sources of growth and pleasure to be open to
+her, and he wanted full communion with his wife in his own life and
+life-work. So he took her hands from the frying-pan and the preserving
+kettle, and put dictionaries and philosophies into them. On her part,
+besides the negative incitement of losing herself and her troubles in
+books, Diana's mental nature was too sound and rich not to take kindly
+the new seeds dropped into the soil. She had gone just far enough in
+her own private reading and thinking to be all ready to spring forward
+in the wider sphere to which she was invited, and in which a hand took
+hers to help her along. The consciousness of awakening power, too, and
+of enlarging the bounds of her world, drew her on. Sometimes in Basil's
+study, where he had arranged a place for her, sometimes down-stairs in
+her own little parlour, Diana pored over books and turned the leaves of
+dictionaries; and felt her way along the mazes of Latin stateliness, or
+wondered and thrilled at the beauty of the Greek words of the New
+Testament as her husband explained them to her. Or she wrought out
+problems; or she wrote abstracts; or she dived into depths of
+philosophical speculation. Then Diana began to learn French, and very
+soon was delighting herself in one or other of a fine collection of
+French classics which filled certain shelves in the library. There was,
+besides all the motives above mentioned which quickened and stimulated
+her zeal for learning, another very subtle underlying cause which had
+not a little to do with her unflagging energy in pursuit of her
+objects. Nay, there were two. Diana did earnestly wish to please her
+husband, and for his sake to become, so far as cultivation would do it,
+a fit companion for him. That she knew. But she scarcely knew, how
+beneath all that, and mightier than all that, was the impulse to make
+herself worthy of the other man whose companion now she would never be.
+Subtle, as so many of our springs of action are, unrecognised, it drove
+her with an incessant impulse. To be such a woman as Evan would have
+been proud of; such a one as he would have liked to stand by his side
+anywhere; one that he need not have feared to present in any society.
+Diana strove for it, and that although Evan would never know it, and it
+did not in the least concern him. And as she felt from time to time
+that she was attaining her end and coming nearer and nearer to what she
+wished to be, Diana was glad with a secret joy, which was not the love
+of knowledge, nor the pride of personal ambition, nor the duty of an
+affectionate wife. As I said, she did not recognise it; if she had, I
+think she would have tried to banish it.
+
+One afternoon she was sitting by her table at the study window, where
+she had been very busy, but was not busy now. The window was open; the
+warm summer air came in, and over the hills and the lowland the
+brilliance and glow of the evening sunlight was just at its brightest.
+Diana sat gazing out, while her thoughts went wandering. Suddenly she
+pulled them up; and her question was rather a departure, though
+standing in a certain negative connection with them.
+
+"Basil, I can't make out just what _faith_ is."
+
+"Cannot you?"
+
+"No. Can you help me? The Bible says, '_believe_,' '_believe_.' I
+believe. I believe everything it tells me, and you tell me; but I have
+not faith."
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"If I had, I should be a Christian."
+
+"And you think you are not?"
+
+"I am sure I am not."
+
+"Are you willing?"
+
+"I think--I am willing," Diana answered slowly, looking out into the
+sunlight.
+
+"If you are right, then faith must be something more than mere belief."
+
+"What more is it?" she said eagerly, turning her face towards him now.
+
+"I think the heart has its part in it as well as the head, and it is
+with the heart that the difficulty lies. In true Bible faith, the heart
+gives its confidence where the intellect has given its assent. '_With
+the heart_ man believeth unto righteousness.' That is what the Lord
+wants;--our personal trust in him; unreserved and limitless trust."
+
+"Trust?" said Diana. "Then why cannot I give it? why don't I?"
+
+"That is the question to be answered. But, Di, the heart cannot yield
+that confident trust, so long as there is any point in dispute between
+it and God; so long as there is any consciousness of holding back
+something from him or refusing something to him. Disobedience and trust
+cannot go together. It is not the child who is standing out in
+rebellion who can stretch out his hand for his father's gifts, and know
+that they will be given."
+
+"Do you think I am rebelling, Basil?"
+
+"I cannot see into your heart, Di."
+
+"What could I be 'holding back' from God?"
+
+"Unconditional surrender."
+
+"Surrender of what?"
+
+"Yourself--your will. When you have made that surrender, there will be
+no difficulty about trusting. There never is."
+
+Diana turned to the window again, and leaning her head on her hand, sat
+motionless for a long time. Sunlight left the bottom lands and crept up
+the hills and faded out of the sky. Dusk and dews of twilight fell all
+around, and the dusk deepened till the stars began to shine out here
+and there. Sweet summer scents came in on the dew-freshened air; sweet
+chirrup of insects made their gentle running commentary on the silence;
+Miss Collins had long ago caused the little bell with which she was
+wont to notify her employers that their meals were ready, to sound its
+tinkling call to supper; but Diana had not heard it, and the minister
+would not disturb her. It was after a very long time of this silence
+that she rose, came to the table where he was sitting, and knelt down
+beside it.
+
+"I believe," she said. "And I _trust_, Basil."
+
+He took her hand, but said nothing otherwise. He could not see her
+face, for she had laid it down upon some books, and besides the room
+was very dusky now. But when he expected some further words which
+should tell of relief or joy, to his surprise he felt that Diana was
+weeping, and then that her tears had grown into a storm. Most strange
+for her, who very rarely let him or anyone see the outbursts of such
+feeling; indeed, even by herself she was very slow to come to the
+indulgence of tears. It was not her way. Now, before she was aware,
+they were flowing; and as it is with some natures, if you open the
+sluice-gates at all, a flood pours forth which makes it impossible to
+shut them again for a while. And this time I think she forgot that
+anybody was by. He was puzzled. Was it joy or sorrow? Hard for herself
+to tell, there was so much of both in it. For, with the very first
+finding of a sufficient refuge and help for her trouble, Diana had
+brought her burden to his feet, and there was weeping convulsively;
+partly from the sense of the burden, partly with the sense of laying it
+down, and with the might of that infinite sympathy the apprehension of
+which was beginning to dawn upon her now for the first time. What is it
+like? O, what is it like! It is the "Dayspring from on high." Basil
+could not read all she was feeling and spell it out. But I think he had
+a sort of instinct of it, and felt that his wife was very far from him,
+in this her agony of joy and sorrow; for he kept motionless, and his
+broad brow, which never was wrinkled, was very grave. One hand he laid
+lightly upon Diana's shoulder, as if so to remind her of his presence
+and close participation in all that concerned her; otherwise he did not
+interrupt her nor make any claim upon her attention.
+
+Gradually Diana's sobs ceased; and then she grew utterly still; and the
+two sat so together, for neither of them knew how long. At last Diana
+raised her head.
+
+"You have had no supper all this while!" she said.
+
+"I have had something much better," said he, gently kissing her cheek.
+
+"To see me cry?" said Diana. "I don't know why I cried."
+
+"I think I do. Don't you feel better for it?"
+
+"Yes. Or else, for that which made me do so. Come down, Basil."
+
+At tea she was perfectly herself and quite as usual, except for the
+different expression in her face. It was hardly less grave than before,
+but something dark had gone out and something light had come in.
+
+"I can face the Sewing Society now," she remarked towards the end of
+the meal.
+
+"The Sewing Society!" her husband echoed. "Is that much to face?"
+
+"I have not been once since I was married. And they make so much fuss
+about it, I must go now. They meet to-morrow at mother's."
+
+"What do they sew?"
+
+"They pretend to be making up a box for some missionary out west."
+
+"I guess there is no pretence about it."
+
+"Yes, there is. They have been eight months at work upon a box to go to
+Iowa somewhere, to a family very much in want of everything; and the
+children and mother are almost, or quite, I guess, in rags, and the
+ladies here are comfortably doing a little once a week, and don't even
+expect to have the box made up till Christmas time. Think of the people
+in Iowa waiting and waiting, with hardly anything to put on, while we
+meet once a week and sew a little, and talk, and have supper."
+
+"How would you manage it?"
+
+"I would send off the box next week, Basil."
+
+"So would I. Suppose now we do?"
+
+"Send off a box?"
+
+"Yes. I will give you the money;--you can go--I will drive you--down to
+Gunn's, and you can get there whatever you think would be suitable, and
+we will have the fun to ourselves."
+
+The colour flushed into Diana's face; it was the first flush of
+pleasure that had come there in a long while.
+
+"You are very good, Basil!" she said. "Don't you think I could drive
+Saladin?"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Anywhere. I mean, that I could go to places then without troubling you
+to drive me."
+
+"I can stand so much trouble. It is not good for a man to live too
+easy."
+
+"But it might be convenient for you sometimes."
+
+"So it might, and pleasant for you. No, I should not like to trust you
+to Saladin. I wonder if your mother would let me have Prince, if I
+offer her a better horse in exchange. Perhaps I can do better than
+that. We will see."
+
+"O, Basil, you must not get another horse for me!"
+
+"I will get anything I like for you."
+
+"But do you mean, and keep Saladin too?"
+
+"I mean that. Saladin is necessary to me."
+
+"Then don't, Basil. I can tell you, people will say you are extravagant
+if you have two horses."
+
+"I cannot help people talking scandal."
+
+"No; but it will hurt your influence."
+
+"Well, we will feel the pulse of the public to-morrow. But I think they
+would stand it."
+
+They drove down to Mrs. Starling's the next day. Mr. Masters had other
+business, and must go farther. Diana went in alone. She was early, for
+she had come to help her mother make the preparations; and at first
+these engrossed them both.
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Starling, when some time had passed,--"how do you get
+along with your husband?"
+
+Diana's eyes opened slightly. "It would be a very strange person that
+could not get on with Mr. Masters," she answered.
+
+"Easy, is he? I hate easy men! The best of 'em are helpless enough; but
+when you get one of the easy soft, they are consented if every door
+hangs on one hinge."
+
+Diana made no answer.
+
+"How does your girl get along?"
+
+"Very well. Pretty well."
+
+"What you want with a girl, I don't see."
+
+"I didn't either. But Mr. Masters wants me to do other things."
+
+"Set you up to be a lady! Well, the world's full o' fools."
+
+"I am as busy, mother, as ever I was in my life."
+
+"Depends on what you call business. Making yourself unfit for business,
+I should say. Call it what you like. I suppose he is your humble
+servant, and just gives you your own way."
+
+"He is not that sort of man at all, mother. He is as kind as he can be;
+but he is nobody's humble servant."
+
+"Then I suppose you are his. There is somebody now, Diana; it's Kate
+Boddington. Do go in and take care of her,--you can do so much,--and
+keep her from coming out here where I am."
+
+"Well, Di!" exclaimed her relative as Diana met her. "Ain't it a sight
+to see _you_ at the sewin' meetin'! Why haven't you been before? Seems
+to me, you make an uncommon long honeymoon of it."
+
+Diana's natural sweetness and dignity, and furthermore, the great
+ballast of old pain and new gladness which lay deep down in her heart,
+kept her quite steady and unruffled under all such breezes. She had
+many of the like to meet that day; and the sweet calm and poise of her
+manner through them all would have done honour to the most practised
+woman of the world. Most of her friends and neighbours here collected
+had scarce seen her since her marriage, unless in church; and they were
+curious to know how she would carry herself, and curious in general
+about many things. It was a sort of battery that Diana had to face, and
+sometimes a masked battery; but it was impossible to tell whether a
+shot hit.
+
+"What I want to know," said Mrs. Boddington, "is, where the minister
+and you made it up, Di. You were awful sly about it!"
+
+"Ain't that so?" chimed in Mrs. Carpenter. "I never had no notion o'
+what was goin' on--not the smallest idee; and I was jest a sayin' one
+day to Miss Gunn, or somebody--I declare I don't know now who 'twas, I
+was so dumbfounded when the news come, it took all my memory away;--but
+I was jes' a sayin' to somebody, and I remember it because I'd jes'
+been after dandelion greens and couldn't find none; they was jest about
+past by then, and bitter; and we was a settin' with our empty baskets;
+and I was jes' tellin' somebody, I don't know who 'twas, who I thought
+would make a good wife for the minister; when up comes Mrs. Starling's
+Josiah and reaches me the invitation. 'There!' says I; 'if he ain't a
+goin' to have Diana Starling!' I was beat."
+
+"I daresay you could have fitted him just as well," remarked Mrs.
+Starling.
+
+"Wall, I don't know. I was thinkin',--but I guess it's as well not to
+say now what I was thinkin'."
+
+"That's so!" assented Miss Barry. "I don't believe he thinks nobody
+could ha' chosen for him no better than he has chosen for himself."
+
+"Men never do know what is good for them," Mrs. Salter remarked, but
+not ill-naturedly; on the contrary, there was a gleam of fun in her
+face.
+
+"I'm thankful, anyway, he hain't done worse," said another lady. "I
+used to be afraid he would go and get himself hitched to a fly-away."
+
+"Euphemie Knowlton?" said Mrs. Salter. "Yes, I used to wonder if we
+shouldn't get our minister's wife from Elmfield. It looked likely at
+one time."
+
+"Those two wouldn't ha' pulled well together, ne--ver," said another.
+
+"I should like to know how he and Di's goin' to pull together?" said
+Mrs. Flandin acidly. "He goin' one way, and she another."
+
+"Do you think so, Mrs. Flandin?" asked the lady thus in a very
+uncomplimentary manner referred to.
+
+"Wall--ain't it true?" said Mrs. Flandin judicially.
+
+"I do not think it is true."
+
+"Wall, I'm glad to hear it, I'm sure," said the other; "but there's a
+word in the Scriptur' about two walking together when they ain't
+agreed."
+
+"Mr. Masters and I are agreed," said Diana, while her lips parted in a
+very slight smile, and a lovely tinge of rose-colour came over her
+cheeks.
+
+"But not in everything, I reckon?"
+
+"In everything I know," said Diana steadily, while a considerable
+breeze of laughter went round the room. Mrs. Flandin was getting the
+worst of it.
+
+"Then it'll be the worse for him!" she remarked with a jerk at her
+sewing. Diana was silent now, but Mrs. Boddington took it up.
+
+"Do you mean to say, Mis' Flandin, you approve of quarrels between man
+and wife? and quarrels in high places, too?"
+
+"High places!" echoed Mrs. Flandin. "When it says that a minister is to
+be the servant of all!"
+
+"And ain't he?" said Mrs. Carpenter. "Is there a place or a thing our
+minister don't go to if he's wanted? and does he mind whether it's
+night or day, or rough or smooth? and does he care how fur it is, or
+how long he goes without his victuals? I will say, I never did see a no
+more self-forgetful man than is Mr. Masters; and I've a good right to
+know, and I say it with feelin's of gratitude."
+
+"That's jes' so," said Miss Barry, her eyes glistening over her
+knitting, which they did not need to watch. And there was a hum of
+assent through the room.
+
+"I'm not sayin' nothin' agin _him_," said Mrs. Flandin in an injured
+manner; "but what I was hintin', I warn't  _sayin'_ nothin', is that
+he's married a"--
+
+"A beauty"--said Mrs. Boddington.
+
+"I don't set no count on beauty," said the other. "I allays think, ef a
+minister is a servant of the Lord, and I hope Mr. Masters is, it's a
+pity his wife shouldn't be too. That's all."
+
+"But I am, Mrs. Flandin," said Diana quietly.
+
+"What?"
+
+"A servant of the Lord."
+
+"Since when?" demanded the other incredulously.
+
+"Does it matter, since when?" said Diana, with a calm gentleness which
+spoke for her. "I was not always so, but I am now."
+
+"Hev' _you_ met with a change?" the other asked, again judicially, and
+critically.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Ain't that good news, now!" said Miss Barry, dropping her knitting and
+fairly wiping her eyes.
+
+"I hope your evidence is clear," said the other lady.
+
+"Do you want to hear what they are?" said Diana. "I have come to know
+the Lord Jesus--I have come to believe in him--I have given myself to
+be his servant. As truly his servant, though not so good a one, as my
+husband is. But what he bids me, I'll do."
+
+The little assembly was silent, silent all round. Both the news and the
+manner of the teller of it were imposing. Decided, clear, calm, sweet,
+Diana's grey eyes as well as her lips gave her testimony; they did not
+shrink from other eyes, nor droop in hesitation or difficulty; as
+little was there a line of daring or self-assertion about them. The
+dignity of the woman struck and hushed her companions.
+
+"Our minister'll be a happy man, I'm thinkin'," said good Mrs.
+Carpenter, speaking out what was the secret thought of many present.
+
+"You haven't joined the church, Diana," said Mrs. Starling harshly.
+
+"I will do that the first opportunity, mother."
+
+"That's your husband's doing. I allays knew he'd wile a bird off a
+bush!"
+
+"I am very thankful to him," said Diana calmly.
+
+That calm of hers was unapproachable. It would neither take offence nor
+give it; although, it is true, it did irritate some of her neighbours
+and companions by the very distance it put between them and her. Diana
+was different from them, and growing more different; yet it was hard to
+find fault. She was so handsome, too; that helped the effect of
+superiority. And her dress; what was there about her dress? It was a
+pale lilac muslin, no way remarkable in itself; but it fell around
+lines so soft and noble, and about so queenly a carriage, it waved with
+so quiet and graceful motions, there was a temptation to think Diana
+must have called in dressmaking aid that was not lawful--for the
+minister's wife. As the like often happens, Diana was set apart by a
+life-long sorrow from all their world of experience,--and they thought
+she was proud.
+
+"What did you pay for that muslin, Diana?" Mrs. Flandin asked.
+
+"Fifteenpence."
+
+"Du tell! well I should ha' thought it was more," remarked Miss Gunn.
+"It's made so elegant."
+
+"I made it myself," said Diana, smiling.
+
+"Du tell!" said Miss Gunn again, reviewing the gown. For, as I hinted,
+its draperies were graceful, their lovely lines being unbroken by
+furbelows and flummery; and the sleeves were open and half long, with a
+full ruffle which fell away from Diana's beautiful arms.
+
+"How Phemie Knowlton used to dress!" Miss Gunn went on, moved by some
+hidden association of ideas.
+
+"I wonder is nobody ever comin' back to Elmfield?" said Mrs.
+Boddington. "They don't do nothin' with the place, and it's just waste."
+
+The talk wandered on; but Diana's thoughts remained fixed. They had
+flown back over the two years since Evan and she had their explanation
+in the blackberry field, and for a little while she sat in a dream,
+feeling the stings of pain, that seemed, she thought, to grow more
+lively now instead of less. The coming in of Mr. Masters roused her,
+and with a sort of start she put away the thought of Evan, and of days
+and joys past for ever, and forcibly swung herself back to present
+things. People were very well-behaved after her husband came, and she
+did her part, she knew, satisfactorily; for she saw his eye now and
+then resting on her or meeting hers with the hidden smile in it she had
+learned to know. And besides, nothing was ever dull or commonplace
+where he was; so even in Mrs. Starling's house and Mrs. Flandin's
+presence, the rest of the evening went brightly off. And then, driving
+home, through the light of a young moon and over the quiet country,
+Diana watched the wonderful calm line where the hill-tops met the sky;
+and thought, surely, with the talisman she had just found of heavenly
+love and sympathy and strength, she could walk the rest of her way
+through life and bear it till the end. Then, by and by, beyond that
+dividing line of eternity, there would be bright heaven, instead of the
+dusky earth. If only she could prevent Basil from knowing how she felt,
+and so losing all peace in life himself. But his peace was so fixed in
+heaven, she wondered if anything on earth could destroy it? She would
+not try that question.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+
+MISS COLLINS' WORK.
+
+
+
+It was well for Diana that she had got a talisman of better power than
+the world can manufacture. It was well for her, too, that she followed
+up earnestly the clue to life which had been given her. If you have a
+treasure-house of supplies, and are going to have to get to it in the
+dark by and by, it is good to learn the way very well while the light
+is there. For weeks Diana gave herself before all other things to the
+study of her Bible, and to better understanding of faith's duties and
+privileges. In all this, Basil was a great help; and daily his wife
+learned more and more to admire and revere the mind and temper of the
+man she had married. Reverence would have led surely to love, in such a
+nature as Diana's; but Diana's heart was preoccupied. What love could
+not do, however, conscience and gratitude did as far as possible.
+Nothing that concerned Basil's comfort or honour was uncared for by his
+wife. So, among other things, she never intrusted the care of his meals
+entirely to Miss Collins; and quite to that lady's discomfiture, would
+often come into the kitchen and prepare some nice dish herself, or
+superintend the preparation of it. Miss Collins resented this. She
+shared the opinion of some of the ladies of the Sewing Society, that
+Mrs. Masters was quite proud and needed to be "taken down" a bit; and
+if she got a good chance, she had it in her mind to do a little of the
+"taking down" herself.
+
+It was one evening late in September. Frosts had hardly set in yet, and
+every change in the light and colour carried Diana's mind back to Evan
+and two years ago, and mornings and evenings of that time which were so
+filled with nameless joys and hopes. Diana did not give herself to
+these thoughts nor encourage them; they came with the suddenness and
+the start of lightning. Merely the colour of a hill at sunset was
+enough to flash back her thoughts to an hour when she was looking for
+Evan; or a certain sort of starlight night would recall a particular
+walk along the meadow fence; or a gust and whiff of the wind would
+bring with it the thrill that belonged to one certain stormy September
+night that never faded in her remembrance. Or the smell of coffee
+sometimes, when it was just at a certain stage of preparation, would
+turn her heart-sick. These associations and remembrances were countless
+and incessant always under the reminders of the September light and
+atmosphere; and Diana could not escape from them, though as soon as
+they came she put them resolutely away.
+
+This evening Mr. Masters was out. Diana knew he had gone a long ride
+and would be tired,--that is, if he ever could be tired,--and would be
+certainly ready for his supper when he came in. So she went out to make
+ready a certain dish of eggs which she knew he liked. Such service as
+this she could do, and she did. There was no thoughtful care, no
+smallest observance, which could have been rendered by the most devoted
+affection, which Diana did not give to her husband. Except,--she never
+offered a kiss, or laid her hand in his or upon his shoulder. Happily
+for her, Basil was not a particularly demonstrative man; for every
+caress from him was "as vinegar upon nitre;" she did not show
+repulsion, that was all.
+
+"I guess I kin do that, Mis' Masters," said her handmaid, who always
+preferred to keep the kitchen for her own domain. Diana made no answer.
+She was slowly and delicately peeling her eggs, and probably did not
+notice the remark. Miss Collins, however, resented the neglect.
+
+"Mr. Masters is gone a great deal. It's sort o' lonesome up here on the
+hill. Dreadfully quiet, don't you think it is?"
+
+"I like quiet," Diana answered absently.
+
+"Du, hey? Wall, I allays liked life. I never could git too much o'
+that. I should like a soldier's life uncommon,--if I was a man."
+
+Diana had finished peeling her eggs, and now began to wash a bunch of
+green parsley which she had fetched from the garden, daintily dipping
+it up and down in a bowl of spring-water.
+
+"It was kind o' lively down to the post office," Miss Collins remarked
+again, eyeing the beautiful half-bared arm and the whole figure, which
+in its calm elegance was both imposing and irritating to her. Miss
+Collins, indeed, had a very undefined sense of the beautiful; yet she
+vaguely knew that nobody else in Pleasant Valley looked so or carried
+herself so; no other woman's dress adorned her so, or was so set off by
+the wearer; although Diana's present attire was a very simply-made
+print gown, not even the stylish ladies of Elmfield produced an equal
+effect with their French dresses. And was not Diana "Mis' Starling's
+daughter?" And Diana seemed not to hear or care what she had to say!
+
+"Everybody comes to the post office," she went on grimly; "you hev'
+only to watch, and you see all the folks; and you know all that is
+goin' on. An' that suits me 'xactly."
+
+"But you had nothing to do with the post office," said Diana. "How
+could you see everybody?"
+
+"You keep your eyes open, and you'll see things, most places," said
+Miss Collins. "La! I used to be in and out; why shouldn't I? And now
+and then I'd say to Miss Gunn--'You're jest fagged out with standin'
+upon your feet; you jes' go in there and sit down by the fire, and
+don't let the pot bile over and put it out; and I'll see to the letters
+and the folks.' And so she did, and so I did. It was as good as a play."
+
+"How?" said Diana, feeling a vague pain at the thought of the post
+office; that place where her hopes had died. Somehow there was a vague
+dread in her heart also, without any reason.
+
+"Wall--you git at folks' secrets--if they have any," Miss Collins
+answered, suddenly checking her flow of words. Diana did not ask again;
+the subject was disagreeable. She began to cut up her parsley deftly
+with a sharp knife; and her handmaid stood and looked at her.
+
+"Some folks thought, you know, at one time, that Mr. Masters was
+courtin' Phemie Knowlton. I didn't let on, but la! I knowed it warn't
+so. Why, there warn't never a letter come from her to him, nor went
+from him to her."
+
+"She was here herself," said Diana; "why should they write? You could
+tell nothing by that."
+
+"She warn't here after she had gone away," said Miss Collins; "and that
+was jes' the time when I knowed all about it. I knowed about other
+people too."
+
+That was also the time after Evan had quitted Pleasant Valley. Yet
+Diana did not know why she could not keep herself from trembling. If
+Evan _had_ written, then, this Jemima Collins and her employer, Miss
+Gunn, would have known it and drawn their conclusions. Well, they had
+no data to go upon now.
+
+"Bring me a little saucepan, Jemima, will you?"
+
+Jemima brought it. Now her mistress (but she never called her so) would
+be away and off in a minute or two more, and leave her to watch the
+saucepan, she knew, and her opportunity would be over. Still she waited
+to choose her words.
+
+"You ain't so fond o' life as I be," she observed.
+
+"Perhaps not," said Diana. "I do not think I should like a situation in
+the post office."
+
+"But I should ha' thought you'd ha' liked to go all over the world and
+see everything. Now Pleasant Valley seems to me something like a
+corner. Why didn't you?"
+
+"Why didn't I what?" said Diana, standing up. She had been stooping
+down over her saucepan, which now sat upon a little bed of coals.
+
+"La! you needn't look at me like that," said Miss Collins, chuckling.
+"It's no harm. You had your ch'ice, and you chose it; only _I_ would
+have took the other."
+
+"The other what? _What_ would you have taken?"
+
+"Wall, I don' know," said Miss Collins; "to be sure, one never doos
+know till one is tried, they say; but if I had, I think I should ha'
+took 'tother one."
+
+"I do not understand you," said Diana, walking off to the table, where
+she began to gather up the wrecks of the parsley stems. She felt an odd
+sensation of cold about the region of her heart, physically very
+disagreeable.
+
+"You are hard to make understand, then," said Miss Collins. "I suppose
+you know you had two sweethearts, don't you? And sure enough you had
+the pick of the lot. 'Tain't likely you've forgotten."
+
+"How dare you speak so?" asked Diana, not passionately, but with a sort
+of cold despair, eying her handmaiden.
+
+"Dare?" said the latter. "Dare what? I ain't saying nothin'. 'Tain't no
+harm to have two beaux; you chose your ch'ice, and _he_ hain't no cause
+to be uncontented, anyhow. About the 'tother one I don't say nothin'. I
+should think he _was_, but that's nat'ral. I s'pose he's got over it by
+now. You needn't stand and look. He's fur enough off, too. Your husband
+won't be jealous. You knowed you had two men after you."
+
+"I cannot imagine why you say that," Diana repeated, standing as it
+were at bay.
+
+"How I come to know? That's easy. Didn't I tell you I was in the post
+office? La, I know, I see the letters."
+
+"Letters!" cried Diana, in a tone which forthwith made Miss Collins
+open all the eyes she had. It was not a scream; it was not even very
+loud; yet Miss Collins went into a swift calculation to find out what
+was in it. Beyond her ken, happily; it was a heart's death-cry.
+
+"Yes," she said stolidly; "I said letters. Ain't much else goin' at the
+post office, 'cept letters and papers; and I ain't one o' them as sets
+no count by the papers. La, what do I care for the news at Washington?
+I don't know the folks; they may all die or get married for what I
+care; but in Pleasant Valley I know where I be, and I know who the
+folks be. And that's what made me allays like to get a chance to sort
+the letters, or hand 'em out."
+
+"You never saw many letters of mine," said Diana, turning away to hide
+her lips, which she felt were growing strange. But she must speak; she
+must know more.
+
+"N--o," said Miss Collins; "not letters o' your writin,'--ef you mean
+that."
+
+"Letters of mine of any sort. I don't get many letters."
+
+"Some of 'em's big ones, when they come, My! didn't I use to wonder
+what was in 'em! Two stamps, and _three_ stamps. I s'pose feelin's
+makes heavy weight." Miss Collins laughed a little.
+
+"Two stamps and three stamps?" said Diana fiercely;--"how many were
+there?"
+
+"I guess I knowed of three. Two I handed out o' the box myself; and
+Miss Gunn, she said there was another. There was no mistakin' them big
+letters. They was on soft paper, and lots o' stamps, as I said."
+
+"You gave them out? Who to?"
+
+"To Mis' Starlin' herself. I mind partic'lerly. She come for 'em
+herself, and she got 'em. You don't mean she lost 'em on her way hum?
+They was postmarked some queer name, but they come from Californy; I
+know that. You hain't never forgotten 'em? I've heerd it's good to be
+off with the old love before you are on with the new; but I never heerd
+o' folks forgettin' their love-letters. La, 'tain't no harm to have
+love-letters. Nobody can cast that up to ye. You have chosen your
+ch'ice, and it's all right. I reckon most folks would be proud to have
+somebody else thrown over for them."
+
+Diana heard nothing of this. She was standing, deaf and blind, seeming
+to look out of the window; then slowly, moved by some instinct, not
+reason, she went out of the kitchen and crept up-stairs to her own room
+and laid herself upon her bed. Deaf and blind; she could neither think
+nor feel; she only thought she knew that she was dead. The
+consciousness of the truth pressed upon her to benumbing; but she was
+utterly unable to separate points or look at the connection of them.
+She had lived and suffered before; now she was crushed and dead; that
+was all she knew. She could not even measure the full weight of her
+misery; she lay too prostrate beneath it.
+
+So things were, when very shortly after the minister came in. He had
+put up his horse, and came in with his day's work behind him. Diana's
+little parlour was bright, for a smart fire was blazing; the evenings
+and mornings were cool now in Pleasant Valley; and the small table
+stood ready for supper, as Diana had left it. She was up-stairs,
+probably; and up-stairs he went, to wash his hands and get ready for
+the evening; for the minister was the neatest man living. There he
+found Diana laid upon her bed, where nobody ever saw her in the
+day-time; and furthermore, lying with that nameless something in all
+the lines of her figure which is the expression not of pain but of
+despair; and those who have never seen it before, read it at first
+sight. How it should be despair, of course, the minister had no clue to
+guess; so, although it struck him with a sort of strange chill, he
+supposed she must be suffering from some bodily ailment, in spite of
+the fact that nobody had ever known Diana to have so much as a headache
+in her life until now. Her face was hid. Basil went up softly and laid
+his hand on her shoulder, and felt so the slight convulsive shiver that
+ran over her. But his inquiries could get nothing but monosyllables in
+return; hardly that; rather inarticulate utterances of assent or
+dissent to his questions or proposals. Was she suffering?
+
+Yes. What was the cause? No intelligible answer. Would she not come
+down to tea? No. Would she have anything? No. Could he do anything for
+her? No.
+
+"Diana," said her husband tenderly, "is it bad news?"
+
+There was a pause, and he waited.
+
+"Just go down," she managed with great difficulty to say. "There is
+nothing the matter with me. I'll come by and by. I'll just lie still a
+little."
+
+She had not shown her face, and the minister quietly withdrew, feeling
+that here was more than appeared on the surface. There was enough
+appearing on the surface to make him uneasy; and he paid no attention
+to Miss Collins, who brought in the supper and bustled about rather
+more than was necessary.
+
+"Don't ring the bell, Jemima," Mr. Masters said. "Mrs. Masters is not
+coming down."
+
+Miss Collins went on to make the tea. That was always Diana's business.
+
+"What ails her?" she asked abruptly.
+
+"You ought to know," said the minister. "What did she complain of."
+
+"Complain!" echoed the handmaiden. "She was as well as you be, not five
+minutes afore you come in."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Guess I had ought to! Why, she was in the kitchen talkin' and
+fiddle-faddlin' with them eggs; she thinks I ain't up to 'em. There
+warn't nothin' on earth the matter with her then. She had sot the table
+in here and fixed up the fire, and then she come in to the kitchen and
+went to work at the supper. There ain't never nothin' the matter with
+her."
+
+The minister made no sort of remark, nor put any further inquiry, nor
+looked even curious, Miss Collins, however, _did_. Her brain got into a
+sudden confusion of possibilities. Pouring out the tea, she stood by
+the table reflecting what she should say next.
+
+"I guess she's mad at me," she began slowly. "Or maybe she's afeard
+you'll be mad with her. La! 'tain't nothin'. I told her, you'd never be
+jealous. 'Tain't no harm for a girl to have two beaus, is it?"
+
+The minister gave her a quick look from under his brows, and replied
+calmly that he "supposed not."
+
+"Wall, I told her so; and now she's put out 'cause I knowed o' them
+letters. La, folks that has the post office can't help but know more o'
+what concerns their fellow-creatures than other folks doos. I handled
+them myself, you see, and handed them out; leastways two o' them; that
+warn't no fault o' mine nor of anybody's. La, she needn't to mind!"
+
+"How much tea did you put in, Jemima?"
+
+"I don't know, Mr. Masters. I put in a pinch. Mrs. Masters had ought to
+ha' been here to make it herself. She knows how you like it."
+
+"I like more than such a pinch as this was. If you will empty the
+tea-pot, I will make a cup for myself. That will do, thank you."
+
+Left alone, Mr. Masters sat for a little while with his head on his
+hand, neglecting the supper. Then he roused himself and went on to make
+some fresh tea. And very carefully and nicely he made it, poured out a
+cup and prepared it, put it on a little tray then, and carried it
+steaming and fragrant up to his wife's room. Diana was lying just as he
+had left her. Mr. Masters shut the door, and came to the bedside.
+
+"Di," said he gently, "I have brought you a cup of tea."
+
+There was neither answer nor movement. He repeated his words. She
+murmured an unintelligible rejection of the proposal, keeping her face
+carefully covered.
+
+"No," said he, "I think you had better take it. Lift up your head, Di,
+and try. It is good."
+
+The tone was tender and quiet, nevertheless Diana had known Mr. Masters
+long enough to be assured that when he had made up his mind to a thing,
+there was no bringing him off it. She would have to take the tea; and
+as he put his hand under her head to lift her up, she suffered him to
+do it. Then he saw her face. Only by the light of a candle, it is true;
+but that revealed more than enough. So wan, so deathly pale, so dark in
+the lines round the eyes, and those indescribable shadows which mental
+pain brings into a face, that her husband's heart sank down. No small
+matter, easy to blow away, had brought his strong beautiful Diana to
+look like that. But his face showed nothing, though indeed she never
+looked at it; and his voice was clear and gentle just as usual in the
+few words he said. He held the cup to her lips, and after she had drank
+the tea and lay down again, he passed his hand once or twice with a
+tender touch over her brow and the disordered hair. Then, with no more
+questions or remarks, he took away the candle and the empty cup, and
+Diana saw him no more that night.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+
+
+THINGS UNDONE.
+
+
+
+The mischief-maker slept peacefully till morning. Nobody else. Diana
+did not keep awake, it is true; she was at that dull stage of misery
+when something like stupor comes over the brain; she slumbered heavily
+from time to time. Nature does claim such a privilege sometimes. It was
+Basil who watched the night through; watched and prayed. There was no
+stupor in his thoughts; he had a very full, though vague, realization
+of great evil that had come upon them both. He was very near the truth,
+too, after an hour or two of pondering. Putting Miss Collins' hints,
+Diana's own former confessions, and her present condition together, he
+saw, clearer than it was good to see, the probable state of affairs.
+And yet he was glad to see it; if any help or bettering was ever to
+come, it was desirable that his vision should be true, and his wisdom
+have at least firm data to act upon. But what action could touch the
+case?--the most difficult that a man can have to deal with. Through the
+night Basil alternately walked the floor and knelt down, sometimes at
+his study table, sometimes before the open window, where it seemed
+almost as if he could read signs of that invisible sympathy he was
+seeking. The air was a little frosty, but very still; he kept up a fire
+in his chimney, and Basil was not one of those ministers who live in
+perpetual terror about draughts; it was a comfort to him to-night to
+look off and away from earth, even though he could not see into heaven.
+The stars were witnesses to him and for him, in their eternal calmness.
+"He calleth them all by their names; for that he is strong in power,
+not one faileth. Why sayest thou, O Jacob, and speakest, O Israel, My
+way is hid from the Lord, and my judgment is passed over from my
+God?"--And in answer to the unspoken cry of appeal that burst forth as
+he knelt there by the window--"O Lord, my strength, my fortress, and my
+refuge in the day of affliction!"--came the unspoken promise: "The
+mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall
+not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be
+removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee." The minister had
+something such a night of it as Jacob had before his meeting with Esau;
+with the difference that there was no lameness left the next morning.
+Before the dawn came up, when the stars were fading, Basil threw
+himself on the lounge in his study, and went into a sleep as deep and
+peaceful as his sleeps were wont to be. And when he rose up, after some
+hours, he was entirely himself again; refreshed and restored and ready
+for duty. Neither could anybody, that day or afterwards, see the
+slightest change in him from what he had been before.
+
+He went out and attended to his horse; the minister always did that
+himself. Then came in and changed his dress, and went through his
+morning toilet with the usual dainty care. Then he went in to see Diana.
+
+She had awaked at last out of her slumberous stupor, sorry to see the
+light and know that it was day again. Another day! Why should there be
+another day for her? what use? why could she not die and be out of her
+trouble? Another day! and now would come, had come, the duties of it;
+how was she to meet them? how could she do them? life energy was gone.
+She was dead; how was she to play the part of the living, and among the
+living? What mockery! And Basil, what would become of him? As for Evan,
+Diana dared not so much in her thoughts as even to glance his way. She
+had risen half up in bed--she had not undressed at all--and was sitting
+with her arms slung round her knees, gazing at the daylight and
+wondering vaguely about all these things, when the door between the
+rooms swung lightly open. If she had dared, Diana would have crouched
+down and hid her face again; she was afraid to do that; she sat
+stolidly still, gazing out at the window. Look at Basil she could not.
+His approach filled her with so great a feeling of repulsion that she
+would have liked to spring from the bed and flee,--anywhere, away and
+away, where she would see him no more. No such flight was possible. She
+sat motionless and stared at the window, keeping down the internal
+shiver which ran over her.
+
+Basil came with his light quick step and stood beside her; took her
+hand and felt her pulse.
+
+"You are not feeling very well, Di," he said gravely.
+
+"Well enough,"--said Diana. "I will get up and be down presently."
+
+"Will you?" said he. "Now I think you had better not. The best thing
+you can do will be to lie still here and keep quiet all day. May I
+prescribe for you?"
+
+"Yes. I will do what you please," said Diana. She never looked at him,
+and he knew it.
+
+"Then this is what I think you had better do. Get up and take a bath;
+then put on your dressing-gown and lie down again. You shall have your
+breakfast up here--and I will let nobody come up to disturb you."
+
+"I'm not hungry. I don't want anything."
+
+"You are a little feverish--but you will be better for taking
+something. Now you get your bath--and I'll attend to the breakfast."
+
+He kissed her brow gravely, guessing that she would rather he did not,
+but knowing nevertheless that he might and must; for he was her
+husband, and however gladly she, and unselfishly he, would have broken
+the relation between them, it subsisted and could not be broken. And
+then he went down-stairs.
+
+"Where's Mis' Masters?" demanded Jemima when she brought in the
+breakfast-tray, standing attention.
+
+"Not coming down."
+
+"Ain't anything ails her, is there?"
+
+"Yes. But I don't know how serious. Give me the kettle, Jemima; I told
+her to lie still, and that I would bring her a cup of tea."
+
+"I'll take it up, Mr. Masters; and you can eat your breakfast."
+
+"Thank you. I always like to keep my promises. Fetch in the kettle,
+Jemima."
+
+Jemima dared not but obey. So when Diana, between dead and alive, had
+done as she was bid, taken her bath, and wrapped in her dressing-gown
+was laid upon her bed again, her husband made his appearance with a
+little tray and the tea. There had been a certain bodily refreshment
+about the bath and the change of dress, but with that little touch of
+the everyday work of life there had come such a rebellion against life
+in general and all that it held, that Diana was nearly desperate. In
+place of dull despair, had come a wild repulsion against everything
+that was left her in the world; and yet the girl knew that she would
+neither die nor go mad, but must just live and bear. She looked at
+Basil and his tray with a sort of impatient horror.
+
+"I don't want anything!" she said. "I don't want anything!"
+
+"Try the tea. It is out of the green chest."
+
+Diana had learned, as I said, to know her husband pretty well; and she
+knew that though the tone in which he spoke was very quiet, and for all
+a certain sweet insistence in it could scarcely be said to be urging,
+nevertheless there was under it something to which she must yield. His
+will never had clashed with hers once; nevertheless Diana had seen and
+known that whatever Basil wanted to do with anybody, he did. Everybody
+granted it to him, somehow. So did she now. She raised herself up and
+tasted the tea.
+
+
+"Eat a biscuit--."
+
+"I don't want it. I don't want anything, Basil."
+
+"You must eat something, though," said he. "It is bad enough for me to
+have to carry along with me all day the thought of you lying here; I
+cannot bear in addition the thought of you starving."
+
+"O no, I am not starving," Diana answered; and unable to endure to look
+at him or talk to him, she covered her face with her hands, leaning it
+down upon her knees. Basil did not say anything, nor did he go away; he
+stood beside her, with an outflow of compassion in his heart, but
+waiting patiently. At last touched her smooth hair with his hand.
+
+"Di," said he gently, "look up and take something."
+
+She hastily removed her hands, raised her head, swallowed the tea, and
+managed to swallow the biscuit with it. He leaned forward and kissed
+her brow as he had done last night.
+
+"Now lie down and rest," said he. "I must ride over to Blackberry Hill
+again--and I do not know how long I may be kept there. I will tell
+Jemima to let no visitors come up to bother you. Lie still and rest. I
+will give you a pillow for your thoughts, Di.--'Under the shadow of thy
+wings will I make my refuge, until these calamities be overpast.'"
+
+He went away; and Diana covered her face again. She could not bear the
+light. Her whole nature was in uproar. The bath and dressing, the tea,
+her husband's presence and words, his last words especially, had roused
+her from her stupor, and given her as it were a scale with which to
+measure the full burden of her misery. There was no item wanting, Diana
+thought, to make it utterly immeasurable and unbearable. If she had
+married a less good man, it would have been less hard to spoil all his
+hopes of happiness; if he had been a weaker man, she would not have
+cared about him at all. If any hand but her own mother's had dashed her
+cup of happiness out of her hand, she would have had there a refuge to
+go to. Most girls have their mothers. If Evan had not been sent to so
+distant a post--but when her thoughts dared turn to Evan, Diana writhed
+upon her bed in tearless agony. Evan, writing in all the freshness and
+strength of his love and his trust in her, those letters;--waiting and
+looking for her answer;--writing again and again; disappointed all the
+while; and at last obliged to conclude that there was no faith in her,
+and that her love had been a sham or a fancy. What had he not suffered
+on her account! even as she had suffered for him. But that he should
+think so of her was not to be borne; she would write. Might she write?
+From hiding her head on her pillow, Diana sat bolt upright now and
+stared at the light as if it could tell her. Might she write to Evan,
+just once, this once, to tell him how it had been? Would that be any
+wrong against her husband? Would Basil have any right to forbid her?
+The uneasy sense of doubt here was met by a furious rebellion against
+any authority that would interfere with her doing herself--as she
+said--so much justice, and giving herself and Evan so much miserable
+comfort. Could there be a right to hinder her? Suppose she were to ask
+Basil?--But what disclosures that would involve! Would he bear them, or
+could she? Better write without his knowledge. Then, on the other hand,
+Basil was so upright himself, so true and faithful, and trusted her so
+completely. No, she never could deceive his trust, not if she died. O
+that she could die! But Diana knew that she was not going to die.
+Suppose she charged her mother with what she had done, and get _her_ to
+write and confess it? A likely thing, that Mrs. Starling would be
+wrought upon to make such a humiliation of herself! She was forced to
+give up that thought. And indeed she was not clear about the essential
+distinction between communicating directly herself with Evan, and
+getting another to do it for her. And what had been Mrs. Starling's
+motive in keeping back the letters? But Diana knew her mother, and that
+problem did not detain her long.
+
+For hours and hours Diana's mind was like a stormy sea, where the
+thunder and the lightning were not wanting any more than the wind. Once
+in a while, like the faint blink of a sun-ray through the clouds, came
+an echo of the words Basil had quoted--"In the shadow of thy wings will
+I make my refuge"--but they hurt her so that she fled from them. The
+contrast of their peace with her turmoil, of their intense sweetness
+with the bitter passion which was wasting her heart; the hint of that
+harbour for the storm-tossed vessel, which could only be entered, she
+knew, by striking sail; all that was unbearable. I suppose there was a
+whisper of conscience, too, which said, "Strike sail, and go
+in!"--while passion would not take down an inch of canvas. _Could_ not,
+she said to herself. Could she submit to have things be as they were?
+submit, and be quiet, and accept them, and go her way accepting them,
+and put the thought of Evan away, and live the rest of her life as
+though he had no existence? That was the counsel Basil would give, she
+had an unrecognised consciousness; and for the present, pain was easier
+to bear than that. And now memory flew back over the years, and took up
+again the thread of her relations with Evan, and traced them to their
+beginning; and went over all the ground, going back and forward,
+recalling every meeting, and reviewing every one of those too scanty
+hours. For a long while she had not been able to do this, because Evan,
+she thought, had been faithless, and in that case she really never had
+had what she thought she had in him. Now she knew he was not faithless,
+and she had got the time and him back again, and she in a sort revelled
+in the consciousness. And with that came then the thought, "Too
+late!"--She had got him again only to see an impassable barrier set
+between which must keep them apart for ever. And that barrier was her
+husband. What the thought of Basil, or rather what his image was to
+Diana that day, it is difficult to tell; she shunned it whenever it
+appeared, with an intolerable mingling of contradictory feelings. Her
+fate,--and yet more like a good angel to her than anybody that had ever
+crossed the line of her path; the destroyer of her hope and joy for
+ever,--and yet one to whom she was bound, and to whom she owed all
+possible duty and affection; she wished it were possible never to see
+him again in the world, and at the same time there was not another in
+the world of whom she believed all the good she believed of him. His
+image was dreadful to her. Basil was the very centre-point of her
+agonized struggles that day. To be parted from Evan she could have
+borne, if she might have devoted herself to the memory of him and lived
+in quiet sorrow; but to put this man in his place!--to belong to him,
+to be his wife--
+
+In proportion to the strength and health of Diana's nature was the
+power of her realization and the force of her will. But also the
+possibility of endurance. The internal fight would have broken down a
+less pure and sound bodily organization. It was characteristic of this
+natural soundness and sweetness, which was mental as well as physical,
+that her mother's part in the events which had destroyed her happiness
+had very little of her attention that day. She thought of it with a
+kind of sore wonder and astonishment, in which resentment had almost no
+share. "O, mother, mother!"--she said in her heart; but she said no
+more.
+
+Miss Collins came up once or twice to see her, but Diana lay quiet, and
+was able to baffle curiosity.
+
+"Are ye goin' to git up and come down to supper?" the handmaid asked in
+the second visit, which occurred late in the afternoon.
+
+"I don't know. I shall do what Mr. Masters says."
+
+"You don't look as ef there was much ailin' you;--and yet you look kind
+o' queer, too. I shouldn't wonder a bit ef you was a gettin' a fever.
+There's a red spot on one of your cheeks that's like fire. T'other
+one's pale enough. You must be in a fever, I guess, or you couldn't lie
+here with the window open."
+
+"Leave it open--and just let me be quiet."
+
+Miss Collins went down, marvelling to herself. But when Basil came home
+he found the flush spread to both cheeks, and a look in Diana's eyes
+that he did not like.
+
+"How has the day been?" he asked, passing his hand over the flushed
+cheek and the disordered hair. Diana shrank and shivered and did not
+answer. He felt her pulse.
+
+"Diana," said he, "what is the matter with you?"
+
+She stared at him, in the utter difficulty of answering. "Basil"--she
+began, and stopped, not finding another word to add. For prevarication
+was an accomplishment Diana knew nothing of. She closed her eyes, that
+they might not see the figure standing there.
+
+"Would you like me to fetch your mother to you?"
+
+"No," she said, starting. "O no! Don't bring her, Basil."
+
+"I will not," said he kindly. "Why should she not come?"
+
+"Mother? never. Never, never! Not mother. I can't bear her"--said Diana
+strangely.
+
+Mr. Masters went down-stairs looking very grave. He took his supper,
+for he needed it; and then he carried up a cup of tea, fresh made, to
+Diana. She drank it this time eagerly; but there was no lightening of
+his grave brow when he carried the cup down again. Something was very
+much the matter, he knew now, as he had feared it last night. He
+debated with himself whether he had better try to find out just what it
+was. Miss Collins, by a judicious system of suggestion and inquiry,
+might be led perhaps to reveal something without knowing that she
+revealed anything; but the minister disliked that way of getting
+information when it could be dispensed with. He had enough knowledge to
+act upon; for the rest he was patient, and could wait.
+
+That night he knew Diana did not sleep. He himself passed the night
+again in his study, though not in the struggles of the night before. He
+was very calm, stedfast, diligent; that is, his usual self entirely.
+And, watching her without her knowing he watched, he knew by her
+breathing and her changes of position that it was a night of no rest on
+her part. Once he saw she was sitting up in the bed; once he saw that
+she had left it and was sitting by the window.
+
+The next day the minister did not leave home. He had no more urgent
+business anywhere, he thought, than there. And he found Diana did not
+make up by day what she had lost by night; she was always staring wide
+awake whenever he went into the room; and he went whenever there was a
+cup of tea or a cup of broth to be taken to her, for he prepared it and
+carried it to her himself.
+
+It happened in the course of the afternoon that Prince and the old
+little green waggon came jogging along and landed Mrs. Starling at the
+minister's door. This was a very rare event; Mrs. Starling came at long
+intervals to see her daughter, and made then a call which nobody
+enjoyed. To-day Miss Collins hailed the sight of her. Indeed, if the
+distance had not been too much, Miss Collins would have walked down to
+carry the tidings of Diana's indisposition; for, like a true gossip,
+she scented mischief where she could see none. The minister would let
+her have nothing to do with his wife; and if he were out of the house
+and she got a chance, she could make nothing of Diana. Nothing certain;
+but nothing either that lulled her suspicions. Now, with Mrs. Starling,
+there was no telling what she might get at. The lady dismounted and
+came into the kitchen, looking about her, as always, with sharp eyes.
+
+"How d'ye do," said she. "Where is Diana?"
+
+"I'm glad to see ye, Mis' Starling, and that's a fact," said the
+handmaid. "I was 'most a mind to walk down to your place to-day."
+
+"What's the matter? Where's Diana?"
+
+"Wall, she's up-stairs. She hain't been down now for two days."
+
+"What's the reason?"
+
+"Wall--sun'thin' ain't right; and I don't think the minister's clear
+what it is; and _I_ ain't. She was took as sudden--you never see
+nothin' suddener--she come in here to fix a dish o' eggs for supper
+that she's mighty particler about, and don't think no one can cook eggs
+but herself; and I was talkin' and tellin' her about my old experiences
+in the post office--and she went up-stairs and took to her bed; and she
+hain't left it sen. Now ain't that queer? 'Cause she didn't say nothin'
+ailed her; not a word; only she went up and took to her bed; and she
+doos look queer at you, that I will say. Mebbe it's fever a comin' on."
+
+There was a minute or two's silence. Mrs. Starling did not immediately
+find her tongue.
+
+"What have the post office and your stories got to do with it?" she
+asked harshly. "I should like to know."
+
+"Yes,--" said Miss Collins, drawing out the word with affable
+intonation,--"that's what beats me. What should they? But la! the post
+office is queer; that's what I always said. Everybody gits into it; and
+ef you're there, o' course you can't help knowin' things."
+
+"You weren't in the post office!" said Mrs. Starling. "It was none of
+_your_ business."
+
+"Warn't I?" said Miss Collins. "Don't you mind better'n that, Mis'
+Starling? I mind you comin', and I mind givin' you your letters too; I
+mind some 'ticlar big ones, that had stamps enough on to set up a shop.
+La, 'tain't no harm. Miss Gunn, she used to feel a sort o' sameness
+about allays takin' in and givin' out, and then she'd come into the
+kitchen and make cake mebbe, and send me to 'tend the letters and the
+folks. And then it was as good as a play to me. Don't you never git
+tired o' trottin' a mile in a bushel, Mis' Starlin'? So I was jest a
+tellin' Diany"--
+
+"Where's the minister?"
+
+"Most likely he's where she is--up-stairs. He won't let nobody else do
+a hand's turn for her. He takes up every cup of tea, and he spreads
+every bit of bread and butter; and he tastes the broths; you'd think he
+was anythin' in the world but a minister; he tastes the broth, and he
+calls for the salt and pepper, and he stirs and he tastes; and
+then--you never see a man make such a fuss, leastways _I_ never
+did--he'll have a white napkin and spread over a tray, and the cup on
+it, and saucer too, for he won't have the cup 'thout the saucer, and
+then carry it off.--Was your husband like that, Mis' Starling? He was a
+minister, I've heerd tell."
+
+Mrs. Starling turned short about without answering and went up-stairs.
+
+She found the minister there, as Miss Collins had opined she would; but
+she paid little attention to him. He was just drawing the curtains over
+a window where the sunlight came in too glaringly. As he had done this,
+and turned, he was a spectator of the meeting between mother and child.
+It was peculiar. Mrs. Starling advanced to the foot of the bed, came no
+nearer, but stood there looking down at her daughter. And Diana's eyes
+fastened on hers with a look of calm, cold intelligence. It was intense
+enough, yet there was no passion in it; I suppose there was too much
+despair; however, it was, as I said, keen and intent, and it held Mrs.
+Starling's eye, like a vice. Those Mr. Masters could not see; the
+lady's back was towards him; but he saw how Diana's eyes pinioned her,
+and how strangely still Mrs. Starling stood.
+
+"What's the matter with you?" she said harshly at last.
+
+"You ought to know,"--said Diana, not moving her eyes.
+
+"I ain't a conjuror," Mrs. Starling returned with a sort of snort.
+"What makes you look at me like that?"
+
+Diana gave a short, sharp laugh. "How can you look at me?" she said. "I
+know all about it, mother."
+
+Mrs. Starling with a sudden determination went round to the head of the
+bed and put out her hand to feel Diana's pulse. Diana shrank away from
+her.
+
+"Keep off!" she cried. "Basil, Basil, don't let her touch me."
+
+"She is out of her head," said Mrs. Starling, turning to her
+son-in-law, and speaking half loud. "I had better stay and sit up with
+her."
+
+"No," cried Diana. "I don't want you. Basil, don't let her stay. Basil,
+Basil!"--
+
+The cry was urgent and pitiful. Her husband came near, arranged the
+pillows, for she had started half up; and putting her gently back upon
+them, said in his calm tones,--"Be quiet, Di; you command here. Mrs.
+Starling, shall we go down-stairs?"
+
+Mrs. Starling this time complied without making any objection; but as
+she reached the bottom she gave vent to her opinion.
+
+"You are spoiling her!"
+
+"Really--I should like to have the chance."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Just the words. I should like to spoil Di. She has never had much of
+that sort of bad influence."
+
+"That sounds very weak, to me," said Mrs. Starling.
+
+"To whom should a man show himself weak, if not toward his wife?" said
+Basil carelessly.
+
+"Your wife will not thank you for it."
+
+"I will endeavour to retain her respect," said Basil in the same way;
+which aggravated Mrs. Starling, beyond bounds. Something about him
+always did try her temper, she said to herself.
+
+"Diana is going to have a fever," she spoke abruptly.
+
+"I am afraid of it."
+
+"What's brought it on?"
+
+"I came home two evenings ago and found her on the bed."
+
+"You don't want me, you say. Who do you expect is going to sit up with
+her and take care of her?"
+
+"I will try what I can do, for the present."
+
+"You can't manage that and your out-door work too."
+
+"I will manage _that_"--said Basil significantly.
+
+"And let your parish work go? Well, I always thought a minister was
+bound to attend to his people."
+
+"Yes. Isn't my wife more one of my people than anybody else? Will you
+stay and take a cup of tea, Mrs. Starling?"
+
+"No; if you don't want me, I am going. What will you do if Diana gets
+delirious? I think she's out of her head now."
+
+"I'll attend to her," said Basil composedly.
+
+Half suspecting a double meaning in his words, Mrs. Starling took short
+leave, and drove off. Not quite easy in her mind, if the truth be told,
+and glad to be out of all patience with the minister. Yes, if she had
+known how things would turn--if she had known--perhaps, she would not
+have thrown that first letter into the fire; which had drawn her on to
+throw the second in, and the third. Could any son-in-law, could Evan
+Knowlton, at least, have been more untoward for her wishes than the one
+she had got? More unmanageable he could not have been; nor more likely
+to be spooney about Diana. And now what if Diana really should have a
+fever? People talk out in delirium. Well--the minister would keep his
+own counsel; she did not care, she said. But all the same, she did
+care; and she would fain have been the only one to receive Diana's
+revelations, if she could have managed it. And by what devil's
+conjuration had the truth come to be revealed, when only the fire and
+she knew anything about it. Mrs. Starling chewed the cud of no sweet
+fancy on her road home.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+
+BONDS
+
+
+
+Diana did become ill. A few days of such brain work as she had endured
+that first twenty-four hours were too much even for her perfect
+organization. She fell into a low fever, which at times threatened to
+become violent, yet never did. She was delirious often; and Basil heard
+quite enough of her unconscious revelations to put him in full
+possession of the situation. In different portions, Diana went over the
+whole ground. He knew sometimes that she was walking with Evan, taking
+leave of him; perhaps taking counsel with him, and forming plans for
+life; then wondering at his silence, speculating about ways and
+distances, tracing his letters out of the post office into the wrong
+hand. And when she was upon that strain, Diana would break out into a
+cry of "O, mother, mother, mother!"--repeating the word with an accent
+of such plaintive despair that it tore the heart of the one who heard
+it.
+
+There was only one. As long as this state of things lasted, Basil gave
+himself up to the single task of watching and nursing his wife. And
+amid the many varieties of heart-suffering which people know in this
+world, that which he tasted these weeks was one of refined bitterness.
+He came to know just how things were, and just how they had been all
+along. He knew what Diana's patient or reticent calm covered. He heard
+sometimes her fond moanings over another name; sometimes her passionate
+outcries the owner of that name to come and deliver her; sometimes--she
+revealed that too--even the repulsion with which she regarded himself.
+"O, not this man!" she said one night, when he had been sitting by her
+and hoping that she was more quiet. "O, not this man! It was a mistake.
+It was all a mistake. People ought to take better care at the post
+office. Tell Evan I didn't know; but I'll come to him now just as soon
+as I can."
+
+Another time she burst out more violently. "Don't kiss me!" she
+exclaimed. "Don't touch me. I won't bear it. Never again. I belong to
+somebody else, don't you know? You have no business to be here." Basil
+was not near her, indeed she would not have recognised him if he had
+been; he was sitting by the fire at a distance; but he knew whom she
+was addressing in her mournful ravings, and his heart and courage
+almost gave way. It was very bitter; and many an hour of those nights
+the minister spent on his knees at the bed's foot, seeking for strength
+and wisdom, seeking to keep his heart from being quite broken, striving
+to know what to do. Should he do as she said, and never kiss her again?
+Should he behave to her in the future as a mere stranger? What was best
+for him and for her? Basil would have done that unflinchingly, though
+it had led him to the stake, if he could know what the best was. But he
+did not quite give up all hope, desperate as the case looked; his own
+strong cheerful nature and his faith in God kept him up. And he
+resolutely concluded that it would not be the best way nor the
+hopefulest, for him and Diana, bound to each other as they were, to try
+to live as strangers. The bond could not be broken; it had better be
+acknowledged by them both. But if Basil could have broken it and set
+her free, he would have done it at any cost to himself. So, week after
+week, he kept his post as nurse at Diana's side. He was a capital
+nurse. Untireable as a man, and tender as a woman; quick as a woman,
+too, to read signs and answer unspoken wishes; thoughtful as many women
+are not; patient with an unending patience. Diana was herself at times,
+and recognised all this. And by degrees, as the slow days wore away,
+her disorder wore away too, or wore itself out, and she came back to
+her normal condition in all except strength. That was very failing,
+even after the fever was gone. And still Basil kept his post. He began
+now, it is true, to attend to some pressing outside duties, for which
+in the weeks just past he had provided a substitute; but morning, noon,
+and night he was at Diana's side. No hand but his own might ever carry
+to her the meals which his own hand had no inconsiderable share in
+preparing. He knew how to serve an invalid's breakfast with a
+refinement of care which Diana herself before that would not have known
+how to give another, though she appreciated it and took her lesson.
+Then nobody could so nicely and deftly prop up pillows and cushions so
+as to make her rest comfortably for the taking of the meal; no one had
+such skilful strength to enable a weak person to change his position.
+For all other things, Diana saw no difference in him; nothing told her
+that she had betrayed herself, and she betrayed herself no more. Dull
+and listless she might be; that was natural enough in her weak state of
+convalescence; and Diana had never been demonstrative towards her
+husband; it was no new thing that she was not demonstrative now.
+Neither did he betray that he knew all she was trying, poor child, to
+hide from him. He was just as usual. Only, in Diana's present helpless
+condition, he had opportunity to show tenderness and care in a thousand
+services which in her well days she would have dispensed with. And he
+did it, as I said, with the strength of a man and the delicacy of a
+woman. He let nobody else do anything for her.
+
+Did he guess how gladly she would have escaped from all his
+ministrations? did he knew what they were to Diana? Probably not; for
+with all his fineness of perception he was yet a man; and I suppose,
+reverse the conditions, there never was a man yet who would object to
+have one woman wait upon him because he loved another. Yet Basil did
+know partly and partly guess; and he went patiently on in the way he
+had marked out for himself, upheld by principle and by a great tenacity
+of purpose which was part of his character. Nevertheless, those were
+days of pain, great and terrible even for him; what they were to Diana
+he could but partially divine. As health slowly came back, and she
+looked at herself and her life again with eyes unveiled by disease,
+with the pitiless clearness of sound reason, Diana wished she could
+die. She knew she could not; she could come no nearer to it than a
+passing thought; her pulses were retaking their sweet regularity; her
+nerves were strung again, fine and true; only muscular strength seemed
+to tarry. Lying there on her bed and looking out over the snow-covered
+fields, for it was mid-winter by this time, Diana sometimes felt a
+terrible impulse to fly to Evan; as if she could wait only till she had
+the power to move The feeling was wild, impetuous; it came like a
+hurricane wind, sweeping everything before it. And then Diana would
+feel her chains, and writhe, knowing that she could not and would not
+break them. But how ever was life to be endured? life with this other
+man? And how dreadful it was that he was so good, and so good to her!
+Yes, it would be easier if he did not care for her so well, far easier;
+easier even if he were not himself so good. The power of his goodness
+fettered Diana; it was a spell upon her. Yes, and she wanted to be good
+too; she would not forfeit heaven because she had lost earth; no, and
+not to gain earth back again. But how was she to live? And what if she
+should be unable always to hide her feeling, and Basil should come to
+know it? how would _he_ live? What if she had said strange things in
+her days and nights of illness? They were all like a confused misty
+landscape to her; nothing taking shape; she could not tell how it might
+have been. Restless and weary, she was going over all these and a
+thousand other things one day, as she did every day, when Basil came
+in. He brought a tray in his hand. He set it down, and came to the
+bedside.
+
+"Is it supper-time already?" she asked.
+
+"Are you hungry?"
+
+"I ought not to be hungry. I don't think I am."
+
+"Why ought you not to be hungry?"
+
+"I am doing nothing, lying here."
+
+"I find that is what the people say who are doing too much. Extremes
+meet,--as usual."
+
+He lifted Diana up, and piled pillows and cushions at her back till she
+was well supported. Nobody could do this so well as Basil. Then he
+brought the tray and arranged it before her. There was a bit of cold
+partridge, and toast; and Basil filled Diana's cup from a little teapot
+he had set by the fire. The last degree of nicety was observable in all
+these preparations. Diana ate her supper. She must live, and she must
+eat, and she could not help being hungry; though she wondered at
+herself that she could be so unnatural.
+
+"Where could you get this bird?" she asked at length, to break the
+silence which grew painful.
+
+"I caught it."
+
+"Caught it? _You!_ Shot it, do you mean?"
+
+"No. I had not time to go after it with a gun. But I set snares."
+
+"I never knew partridges were so good," said Diana, though something in
+her tone said, unconsciously to her, that she cared not what was good
+or bad.
+
+"You did not use your advantages. That often happens."
+
+"I had not the advantage of being able to get partridges," said Diana
+languidly.
+
+"The woods are full of them."
+
+"Don't you think it is a pity to catch them?"
+
+"For you?" said Basil. He was removing her empty plate, and putting
+before her another with an orange upon it, so accurately prepared that
+it stirred her admiration.
+
+"Oranges!" cried Diana. "How did you learn to do everything, Basil?"
+
+"Don't be too curious," said he. As he spoke, he softly put back off
+her ear a stray lock of the beautiful brown hair, which fell behind her
+like a cloud of wavy brightness. Even from that touch she inwardly
+shrank; outwardly she was impassive enough.
+
+
+"Basil," said Diana suddenly, "didn't I talk foolishly sometimes?--when
+I was sick, I mean."
+
+"Don't you ever do it when you are well?"
+
+"Do I?"
+
+"What do you think?" said he, laughing, albeit his heart was not merry
+at the moment; but Diana's question was naive.
+
+"I did not think I was in the habit of talking foolishly."
+
+"Your thoughts are true and just, as usual. It is so far from being in
+your habit, that it is hardly in your power," he said tenderly.
+
+Diana ate her orange, for she was very fond of the fruit, and it gave
+occupation to hands and eyes while Basil was standing by. She did not
+like his evasion of her question, and pondered how she could bring it
+up again, between wish and fear. Before she was ready to speak the
+chance was gone. As Basil took away her plate, he remarked that he had
+to go down to see old Mrs. Barstow; and arranging her pillows anew, he
+stooped down and kissed her.
+
+Left alone, Diana sat still propped up in bed and stared into the fire,
+which grew brighter as the light without waned. How she rebelled
+against that kiss! "No, he has no right to me!" she cried in her
+passionate thoughts; "he has no right to me! I am Evan's; every bit of
+me is Evan's, and nobody's else. O, how came I to marry this man? and
+what shall I do? I wonder if I shall go mad?--for I am not going to
+die. But how is it possible that I can live _so?_"
+
+She was slow in regaining strength. Yet little by little it came back,
+like a monarch entering a country that has rebelled against him. By and
+by she was able to sit up. Her husband had a luxurious easy-chair sent
+from Boston for her and placed in her room; and one evening, it was in
+February now, Diana got up and put herself in it. She had never known
+such a luxurious piece of furniture in her life; she was dressed in a
+warm wrapper also provided by her husband, and which seemed to her of
+extravagant daintiness; and she sank into the depths of the one and the
+folds of the other with a helpless feeling of Basil's power over her,
+symbolized and emphasized by these things. Presently came Basil
+himself, again bringing her supper. He placed a small table by her side
+and set the tray there; put the teapot down by the fire; and taking a
+view of his wife, gave a slight smile at the picture. He might well,
+having so good a conscience as this man had. Diana was one of those
+magnificent women who look well always and anywhere; with a kitchen
+apron on and hands in flour, or in the dishabille of careless undress;
+but as her husband saw her then, she was lovely in an exquisite degree.
+She was wrapped in a quilted dressing-gown of soft grey stuff, with a
+warm shawl about her shoulders; her beautiful abundant hair, which she
+had been too weak of hand, and of heart too, to dress elaborately, lay
+piled about her head in loose, bright, wavy masses, much more
+picturesque than Diana would have known how to make them by design. I
+think there is apt, too, to be about such women a natural grace of
+motion or of repose; it was her case. To think of herself or the
+appearance she might at any time be making, was foreign to Diana; the
+noble grace of unconsciousness, united to her perfectness of build,
+made her always faultless in action or attitude. If she moved or if she
+sat, it might have been a duchess, for the beautiful unconscious ease
+with which she did it. Nature's high breeding; there is such a thing,
+and there is such an effect of it when the constitution of mind and
+body are alike noble.
+
+Basil poured out her cup of tea, and divided her quail, and then sat
+down. It was hard for her to bear.
+
+"You are too good to me," said Diana humbly.
+
+"I should like to see you prove that."
+
+"I am not sure but you are too good to everybody."
+
+"Why? how can one be too good?"
+
+"You won't get paid for it."
+
+"I think I shall," said Basil, in a quiet confident way he had, which
+was provoking if you were arguing with him. But Diana was not arguing
+with him.
+
+"Basil, _I_ can never pay you," she said, with a voice that faltered a
+little.
+
+"You are sure of that in your own mind?"
+
+"Very sure!"
+
+"I am a man of a hopeful turn of nature. Shall I divide that joint for
+you?"
+
+"My hands cannot manage a quail!" said Diana, yielding her knife and
+fork to him. "What can make me so weak?"
+
+"You have had fever."
+
+"But I have no fever now, and I do not seem to get my strength back."
+
+"After the unnatural tension, Nature takes her revenge."
+
+"It is very hard on you!"
+
+"What?"
+
+Diana did not answer. She had spoken that last word with almost a break
+in her voice; she gave her attention now diligently to picking the
+quail bones. But when her supper was done, and the tray delivered over
+to Miss Collins, Basil did not, as sometimes he did, go away and leave
+her, but sat down again and trimmed the fire. Diana lay back in her
+chair, looking at him.
+
+"Basil," she said at last after a long silence,--"do you think
+mistakes, I mean life-mistakes, can ever be mended in this world?"
+
+"You must define what you mean by mistakes," he said without looking at
+her. "There are no _mistakes_, love, but those which we make by our own
+fault."
+
+"O but yes there are, Basil!"
+
+"Not what _I_ mean by mistakes."
+
+"Then what do you call them? When people's lives are all spoiled by
+something they have had nothing to do with--by death, or sickness, or
+accident, or misfortune."
+
+"I call it," said Basil slowly, and still without looking at her,--"I
+call it, when it touches me or you, or other of the Lord's
+children,--God's good hand."
+
+"O no, Basil! people's wickedness cannot be his hand."
+
+"People's wickedness is their own. And other evil I believe is wrought
+by the prince of this world. But God will use people's wickedness, and
+even Satan's mischief, to his children's best good; and so it becomes,
+in so far, his blessed hand. Don't you know he has promised, 'There
+shall no evil happen to the just'? And that 'all things shall work
+together for good to them that love God?' His promise does not fail, my
+child."
+
+"But, Basil,--loads of things do happen to them which _cannot_ work for
+their good."
+
+"Then what becomes of the Lord's promise?"
+
+"He cannot have made it, I think."
+
+"He has made it, and you and I believe it."
+
+"But, Basil, it is impossible. I do not see how some things can ever
+turn to people's good."
+
+"If any of the Lord's children were in doubt upon that point, I should
+recommend him to ask the Lord to enlighten him. For the heavens may
+fall, Diana, but 'the word of our God shall stand for ever.'"
+
+Diana felt her lips quivering, and drew back into the shadow to hide
+them.
+
+"But there can be no kindness in some of these things that I am
+thinking about," she said as soon as she could control her voice; and
+it sounded harsh even then.
+
+"There is nothing but kindness. When I would not give you strong coffee
+a while ago, in your fever, do you think I was influenced by cruel
+motives?"
+
+"I could never believe anything but good of you, Basil."
+
+"Thank you. Do you mean, that of Christ you _could?_"
+
+"No--" said Diana, hesitating; "but I thought, perhaps, he might not
+care."
+
+"He had need to be long-suffering!" said Basil; "for we do try his
+patience, the best of us. 'He has borne our griefs and carried our
+sorrows,' Diana; down into humiliation and death; that he might so earn
+the right to lift them off our shoulders and hearts; and one of his
+children doubts if he cares!"
+
+"But he does not lift them off, Basil," said Diana; and her voice
+trembled with the unshed tears.
+
+"He will"--said her husband.
+
+"When?"
+
+"As soon as we let him."
+
+"What must I do to let him?"
+
+"Trust him wholly. And follow him like a child."
+
+The tears came, Diana could not hinder them; she laid her face against
+the side of her chair where Basil could not see it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+
+
+EVAN'S SISTER.
+
+
+
+Slowly from this time Diana regained strength, and by degrees took
+again her former place in the household. To Miss Collins' vision she
+was "the same as ever." Basil felt she was not.
+
+Yet Diana did every duty of her station with all the care and diligence
+she had ever given to it. She neglected nothing. Basil's wardrobe was
+kept in perfect order; his linen was exquisitely got up; his meals were
+looked after, and served with all the nice attention that was possible.
+Diana did not in the least lose her head, or sit brooding when there
+was something to do. She did not sit brooding at any time, unless at
+rare intervals. Yet her husband's heart was very heavy with the weight
+which rested on hers, and truly with his own share as well. There was a
+line in the corners of Diana's sweet mouth which told him, nobody else,
+that she was turning to stone; and the light of her eye was, as it
+were, turned inward upon itself. Without stopping to brood over things,
+which she did not, her mind was constantly abiding in a different
+sphere away from him, dwelling afar off, or apart in a region by
+itself; he had her physical presence, but not her spiritual; and who
+cares for a body without a soul? All this time there was no confidence
+between them. Basil knew, indeed, the whole facts of the case, but
+Diana did not know he knew. He wished she would speak, but believed now
+she never would; and he could not ask her. Truly he had his own part to
+bear; and withal his sorrow and yearning tenderness for her. Sometimes
+his heart was nigh to break. But Diana's heart was broken.
+
+Was it comfort, or was it not comfort, when near the end of spring a
+little daughter was born to them? Diana in any circumstances was too
+true a woman not to enter upon a mother's riches and responsibilities
+with a full heart, not to enter thoroughly into a mother's joy and
+dignity; it was a beautiful something that had come into her life, so
+far as itself was concerned; and no young mother's hands ever touched
+more tenderly the little pink bundle committed to them, nor ever any
+mother's eyes hung more intently over her wonderful new possession. But
+lift the burden from Diana's heart her baby did not. There was
+something awful about it, too, for it was another bond that bound her
+to a man she did not love. When Diana was strong enough, she sometimes
+shed floods of tears over the little unconscious face, the only human
+confident she dared trust with her secret. Before this time her tears
+had been few; something in the baby took the hardness from her, or else
+gave one of those inexplicable touches to the spring of tears which we
+can neither resist nor account for. But the baby's father was as fond
+of her as her mother, and had a right to be, Diana knew; and that tried
+her. She grudged Basil the right. On the whole, I think, however, the
+baby did Diana good As for Basil, it did him good. He thanked God, and
+took courage.
+
+The summer had begun when Diana was able to come down-stairs again. One
+afternoon she was there, in her little parlour, come down for a change.
+The windows were open, and she sat thinking of many things. Her
+easy-chair had been moved down to this room; and Diana, in white, as
+Basil liked to see her, was lying back in it, close beside the window.
+June was on the hills and in the air, and in the garden; for a bunch of
+red roses stood in a glass on the table, and one was fastened at
+Diana's belt and another stuck in her beautiful hair. Not by her own
+hands, truly; Basil had brought in the roses a little while ago and
+held them to her nose, and then put one in her hair and one in her
+belt. Diana suffered it, all careless and unknowing of the exquisite
+effect, which her husband smiled at, and then went off; for his work
+called him. She had heard his horse's hoof-beats, going away at a
+gallop; and the sound carried her thoughts back, away, as a little
+thing will, to a time when Mr. Masters used to come to her old home to
+visit her mother and her, and then ride off so. Yes, and in those clays
+another came too; and June days were sweet then as now; and roses
+bloomed; and the robins were whistling then also, she remembered; did
+_their_ fates and life courses never change? was it all June to them,
+every year? How the robins whistled their answer!--"all June to them,
+every year!" And the smell of roses did not change, nor the colour of
+the light; and the fresh green of the young foliage was deep and bright
+and glittering to-day as ever it was. Just the same! and a human life
+could have all sweet scents and bright tints and glad sounds fall out
+of it, and not to come back! There is nothing but duty left, thought
+Diana; and duty with all the sap gone out of it. Duty was left a dry
+tree; and more, a tree so full of thorns that she could not touch it
+without being stung and pierced. Yet even so; to this stake of duty she
+was bound.
+
+Diana sat cheerlessly gazing out into the June sunlight, which laughed
+at her with no power to gain a smile in return; when a step came along
+the narrow entry, and the doorway was filled with Mrs. Starling's
+presence. Mother and daughter looked at each other in a peculiar way
+they had now; Diana's face cold, Mrs. Starling's face hard.
+
+"Well!" said the latter,--"how are you getting along?"
+
+"You see, I am down-stairs."
+
+"I see you're doing nothing."
+
+"Mr. Masters wont let me."
+
+"Humph! When _I_ had a baby four weeks old, I had my own way. And so
+would you, if you wanted to have it."
+
+"My husband will not let me have it."
+
+"That's fool's nonsense, Diana. If you are the girl I take you for, you
+can do whatever you like with your husband. No man that ever lived
+would make _me_ sit with my hands before me. Who's got the baby?"
+
+"Jemima."
+
+"How's Jemima to do her work and your work too? She can't do it."
+
+"No, but Mr. Masters is going to get another person to help take care
+of baby."
+
+"A nurse!" cried Mrs. Starling aghast.
+
+"No, not exactly; but somebody to help me."
+
+"Are you turned weak and sickly, Diana?"
+
+"No, mother."
+
+"Then you don't want another girl, any more than a frog wants an
+umbrella. Put your baby in the crib and teach her to lie there, when
+you are busy. That's the way you were brought up."
+
+"You must talk to Mr. Masters, mother."
+
+"I don't want to talk to Mr. Masters--I've got something else to do.
+But you can talk to him, Diana, and he'll do what you say."
+
+"It's the other way, mother. I must do what he says." Diana's tone was
+peculiar.
+
+"Then you're turned soft."
+
+"I think I am turned hard."
+
+"Your husband is easy to manage--for you."
+
+"Is he?" said Diana. "I am glad it isn't true. I despise men that are
+easy to manage. I am glad I can respect him, at any rate."
+
+Mrs. Starling looked at her daughter with an odd expression. It was
+curious and uncertain; but she asked no question. She seemed to change
+the subject; though perhaps the connection was close.
+
+"Did you hear the family are coming to Elmfield again this summer?"
+
+Diana's lips formed the word "no;" the breath of it hardly got out.
+
+"Yes, they're coming, sure enough. Phemie will be here next week; and
+her sister, what's her name?--Mrs. Reverdy--is here now."
+
+Silence.
+
+"I suppose they'll fill the house with company, as they did last time,
+and cut up their shines as usual. Well! they don't come in my way. But
+you'll have to see 'em, I guess."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"You know they make a great to do about your husband in that family.
+And Genevieve Reverdy seems uncommonly fond of you. She asked me no end
+of questions about you on Sabbath."
+
+There flushed a hot colour into Diana's cheeks, which faded away and
+left them very pale.
+
+"She hasn't grown old a bit," Mrs. Starling went on, talking rather
+uneasily; "nor she hain't grown wise, neither. She can't ask you how
+you do without a giggle. And she had dressed herself to come to church
+as if the church was a fair and she was something for sale. Flowers,
+and feathers, and laces, and ribbons, a little there and a little here;
+bows on her gloves, and bows on her shoes, and bows on her gown. I
+believed she would have tucked some into the corners of her mouth, if
+they would have stayed."
+
+Diana made no reply. She was looking out into the sunlit hillside in
+view from her window, and had grown visibly whiter since her mother
+came in. Mrs. Starling reviewed her for that instant with a keen,
+anxious, searching gaze, which changed before Diana turned her head.
+
+"I can't make out, for my part, what such folks are in the world for,"
+she went on. "They don't do no good, to themselves nor to nobody else.
+And fools mostly contrive to do harm. Well--she's coming to see
+you;--she'll be along one of these days."
+
+"To see me!" Diana echoed.
+
+"So she says. Maybe it's all flummery. I daresay it is; but she talked
+a lot of it. You'd ha' thought there warn't any one else in the world
+she cared about seeing."
+
+Mrs. Starling went up-stairs at this point to see the baby, and Diana
+sat looking out of the window with her thoughts in a wild confusion of
+pain. Pain and fright, I might say. And yet her senses took the most
+delicate notice of all there was in the world outside to attract them.
+Could it be June, once so fair and laughing, that smote her now with
+such blows of memory's hammer? or was it Memory using June? She saw the
+bright glisten of the leaves upon the hillside, the rich growth of the
+grass, the fair beams of the summer sun; she noticed minutely the stage
+of development which the chestnut blossoms had reached; one or two
+dandelion heads; a robin redbreast that was making himself exceedingly
+at home on the little spread of greensward behind the house. I don't
+know if Diana's senses were trying to cheat her heart; but from one
+item to another her eye went and her mind followed, in a maze of pain
+that was not cheated at all, till she heard her mother's steps forsake
+the house. Then Diana's head sank. And then, even at the moment, as if
+the robin's whistle had brought them, the words came to her--"Call upon
+me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify
+me." An absolute promise of the Lord to his people. Could it be true,
+when trouble was beyond deliverance? And then came Basil's faith to her
+help; she knew how he believed every word, no matter how difficult or
+impossible; and Diana fell on her knees and hid her face, and fled to
+the one only last refuge of earth's despairing children. How even God
+could deliver her, Diana did not see, for the ground seemed giving away
+beneath her feet; but it is the man who cannot swim who clutches the
+rope for life and death; and it is when we are hopeless of our own
+strength that we throw ourselves utterly upon the one hand that is
+strong. Diana was conscious of little else but of doing that; to form a
+connected prayer was beyond her; she rather held up the promise, as it
+were with both hands, and pleaded it mutely and with the intensity of
+one hovering between life and death. The house was still, she feared no
+disturbance; and she remained motionless, without change of posture
+either of mind or body, for some length of time. Gradually the "I will
+deliver thee"--"I will deliver thee"--began to emphasize itself to her
+consciousness, like a whisper in the storm, and Diana burst into a
+terrible flood of tears. That touch of divine sympathy broke her heart.
+She sobbed for minutes, only keeping her sobs too noiseless to reach
+and alarm Miss Collins' ears; till her agony was softened and changed
+at last into something more like a child's exhausted and humble tears,
+while her breast rose and fell so, pitifully. With that came also a
+vague floating thought or two. "My duty--I'll do my duty--I'll do my
+duty."
+
+It was over, and she had risen and was resting in her chair, feeling
+weaker and yet much stronger than before; waiting till she could dare
+show her face to Miss Collins; when a little low tap was heard at the
+front door. Company? But Diana had noticed no step and heard no wheels.
+However, there was no escape for her if it were company. She waited,
+and the tap was repeated. I don't know what about it this second time
+sent a thrill all down Diana's nerves. The doors were open, and seeing
+that Miss Collins did not stir, Diana uttered a soft "Come!" She was
+hardly surprised at what followed; she seemed to know by instinct what
+it would be.
+
+"Where shall I come?" asked a voice, and a pair of brisk high-heeled
+shoes tripped into the house, and a little trilling laugh, equally
+light and meaningless, followed the words. "Where shall I come? It's an
+enchanted castle--I see nobody."
+
+But the next instant she could not say that, for Diana showed herself
+at the door of her room, and Mrs. Reverdy hastened forward. Diana was
+calm now, with a possession of herself which she marvelled at even
+then. Bringing her visitor into the little parlour, she placed herself
+again in her chair, with her face turned from the light.
+
+"And here I find you! O you beautiful creature!" Mrs. Reverdy burst
+out. "I declare, I don't wonder at--anything!" and she laughed. The
+laugh grated terribly on Diana. "I wonder if you know what a beauty you
+are?" she went on;--"I declare!--I didn't know you were half so
+handsome. Have you changed, since three years ago?"
+
+"I think I must," Diana said quietly.
+
+"But where have you been? Living here in Pleasant Valley?" was the next
+not very polite question.
+
+"People do live in Pleasant Valley. Did you think not?" Diana answered.
+
+"O yes. No. Not what we call life, you know. And you were always
+handsome; but three years ago you were just Diana Starling, and
+now--you might be anybody!"
+
+"I am Mr. Masters' wife," said Diana, setting her teeth as it were upon
+the words.
+
+"Yes, I heard. How happened it? Do you know, I am afraid you have done
+a great deal of mischief? O, you handsome women!--you have a great deal
+to account for. Did you never think you had another admirer?--in those
+days long ago, you know?"
+
+"What if I had?" Diana said almost fiercely.
+
+"O, of course," said Mrs. Reverdy with her laugh again,--"of course it
+is nothing to you now; girls are hard-hearted towards their old lovers,
+I know that. But weren't you a little tender towards him once? He
+hasn't forgotten his part, I can tell you. You mustn't be _too_
+hard-hearted, Diana."
+
+If the woman could have spoken without laughing! That little
+meaningless trill at the end of everything made Diana nearly wild. She
+could find no answer to the last speech, and so remained silent.
+
+"Now I have seen you again, I declare I don't wonder at anything. I was
+inclined to quarrel with him, you know, thinking it was just a boyish
+foolish fancy that he ought to get over; I was a little out of patience
+with him; but now I see you, I take it all back. I declare, you're a
+woman the men might rave about. You mustn't mind if they do."
+
+"There is another question, whether my husband will mind." She said the
+words with a hard, relentless force upon herself.
+
+"Is he jealous?" laughing.
+
+"He has no reason."
+
+"Reason! O, people are jealous without reason; they don't wait for
+that. Better without than with. How is Mr. Masters? is he one of that
+kind? And how came he to marry you?"
+
+"You ought not to wonder at it, with the opinion you have expressed of
+me."
+
+"O no, I don't wonder at all! But somebody else wanted to marry you
+too; and somebody else thought he had the best right. I am afraid you
+flirted with him. Or was it with Mr. Masters you flirted? I didn't
+think you were a girl to flirt; but I see! You would keep just quietly
+still, and they would flutter round you, like moths round a candle, and
+it would be their own fault if they both got burned. Has Mr. Masters
+got burned? My poor moth has singed his wings badly, I can tell you. I
+am very sorry for him."
+
+
+"So am I," Diana said gravely.
+
+"Are you? Are you really? Are you sorry for him? May I tell him you are
+sorry?"
+
+"You have not said whom you are talking about," Diana answered, with a
+coldness which she wondered at when she said it.
+
+"O, but you know! There is only one person I could be talking about.
+There is only one I could care enough about to be talking for him. You
+cannot help but know. May I tell him you say you are sorry for him? It
+would be a sort of comfort, and he wants it."
+
+"You must ask Mr. Masters."
+
+"What?"
+
+"That."
+
+"Whether I may tell Evan you are sorry for him?"
+
+"Whether you may tell that to anybody."
+
+"I don't want to tell it to but one," said Mrs. Reverdy, laughing.
+"What has Mr. Masters to do with it?"
+
+"He is my husband." And calmly as Diana said it, she felt as if she
+would like to shriek out the words to the birds on the hillside--to the
+angels, if there were angels in the air. Yet she said it calmly.
+
+"But do you ask your husband about everything you do or say?"
+
+"If I think he would not like it."
+
+"But that is giving him a great deal of power,--too much. Husband's are
+fallible, as well as wives," said Mrs. Reverdy, laughing.
+
+"Mr. Masters is not fallible. At least, I never saw him fail in
+anything. If he ever made a mistake, it was when he married me."
+
+"And you?" said Mrs. Reverdy. "Didn't you make a mistake too?"
+
+"In marrying somebody so much too good for me--yes," Diana answered.
+
+The little woman was a good deal baffled.
+
+"Then have you really no kind word for Evan? must I tell him so?"
+
+Diana felt as if her brain would have reeled in another minute. Before
+she could answer, came the sound of a little wailing cry from the room
+up-stairs, and she started up. That movement was sudden, but the next
+were collected and slow. "You will excuse me," she said,--"I hear
+baby,"--and she passed from the room like a princess. If her manner had
+been less discouraging, I think Mrs. Reverdy would have still pursued
+her point, and asked leave to follow her and see the baby; but Diana's
+slow, languid dignity and gracious composure imposed upon the little
+woman, and she gave up the game; at least for the present. When Miss
+Collins, set free, hurried down, Mrs. Reverdy was gone.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+
+
+HUSBAND AND WIFE.
+
+
+
+Had she no kind word for Evan? Diana felt as if her heart would snap
+some one of its cords, and give over its weary beating at once and for
+ever. No kind word for Evan? her beloved, her betrayed, her
+life-treasure once, towards whom still all the wealth of her heart
+longed to pour itself out; and she might not send him one kind word?
+And he did not know that she had been true to him; and yet he had
+remained true to her. Might he not know so much as that, and that her
+heart was breaking as well as his? Only it would not break. All the
+pain of death without its cessation of consciousness. Why not let him
+have one word to know that she loved him still, and would always love
+him? Truth--truth and duty--loyal faith to her husband, the man whom in
+her mistake she had married. O, why could not such mistakes be undone!
+But they never could, never. It was a living death that she was
+condemned to die.
+
+I cannot say that Diana really wavered at all in her truth; but this
+was an hour of storm never to be remembered without shuddering. She had
+her baby in her arms, but the mother's instincts were for the time
+swallowed up in the stormier passions of the woman. She cared for it
+and ministered to it, tenderly as ever, yet in a mechanical, automatic
+sort of way, taking no comfort and finding no relief in her sweet duty.
+It was the roar of the storm and the howling of temptation which
+overwhelmed every other voice in her heart. Then there were practical
+questions to be met. Mrs. Reverdy and her family at Elmfield, who could
+guarantee that Evan would not get a furlough and come there too? Mrs.
+Reverdy's words seemed to have some ultimate design, which they had not
+indeed declared; they had the air of somewhat different from mere
+aimless rattle or mischievous gossip. Suppose Evan were to come? What
+then?
+
+The baby went off to sleep, and was laid away in its crib, and the
+mother stood alone at the window wrestling with her pain. She felt
+helpless in the grasp of it as almost never before. Danger was looming
+up and threatening dark in the distance; there might be a whirlwind
+coming out of that storm quarter, and how was she going to stand in the
+whirlwind? Beyond the wordless cry which meant "Lord help me!"--Diana
+could hardly pray at all at this moment; and the feeling grew that she
+must have human help. "Tell Basil"--a whisper said in her heart. She
+had shunned that thought always; she had judged it no use; now she was
+driven to it. He must know the whole. Perhaps then he could tell her
+what to do.
+
+As soon as Diana's mind through all its tossings and turnings had fixed
+upon this point, she went immediately from thought to action. It was
+twilight now, or almost. Basil would not come home in time for a talk
+before supper; supper must be ready, so as to have no needless delay.
+She could wait, now she knew what she would do; though there was a fire
+burning at heart and brain. She went down-stairs and ordered something
+to be got ready for supper; finished the arrangement of the tea-table,
+which her husband liked to have very dainty; picked a rose for his
+plate, though it seemed dreadful mockery; and as soon as she heard his
+step at the door she made the tea. What an atmosphere of sweet, calm
+brightness he brought in with him, and always brought. It struck Diana
+now with the kind of a shiver which a person in a fever feels at the
+touch of fresh air. Yet she recognised the beauty of it, and it
+fortified her in her resolve. She would be true to this man, though she
+died for it! There was nothing but truth in him.
+
+She got through the meal-time as she could; swallowed tea, and even ate
+bread, without knowing how it tasted, and heard Basil talk without
+knowing what he said. As soon as she could she went up-stairs to the
+baby, and waited till her husband should come too. But when he came, he
+came to her, and did not go to his study.
+
+"Basil I want to speak to you--will you come into the other room?" she
+said huskily.
+
+"Won't this room do to talk in?"
+
+"No. It is over the kitchen."
+
+"Jemima knows I never quarrel"--said Basil lightly; however, he led the
+way into the study. He set a chair for Diana and took another himself,
+but she remained standing.
+
+"Basil--is God good?" she said.
+
+"Yes. Inexpressibly good."
+
+"Then why does he let such things happen?"
+
+"Sit down, Di. You are not strong enough to talk standing. Such things?
+What things?"
+
+"Why does he let people be tempted above what they can bear?"
+
+"He never does--his children--if that is what you mean. He always
+provides a way of escape."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"At Christ's feet."
+
+"Basil, how can I get there?" she said with a sob.
+
+"You _are_ there, my darling," he said, putting her gently into the
+easy-chair she had disregarded. "Those who trust in him, his hand never
+lets go. They may seem to themselves to lose their standing--they may
+not feel the ground under their feet--but he knows; and he will not let
+them fall. If they hold fast to him, Diana."
+
+"Basil, you don't know the whole."
+
+"Do you want to tell me?"
+
+Her voice was abrupt and hoarse; his was calm and cool as the fall of
+the dew.
+
+"I want to tell you if I can. But I shall hurt you."
+
+"I am very willing, if it eases you. Go on."
+
+"It wont ease me. But you must know it. You ought to know. O, Basil, I
+made such a mistake when I married you!"--
+
+She did not mean to say anything so bitter as that; she was where she
+could not measure her words. Perhaps his face paled a little; in the
+faint light she could not see the change of colour. His voice did not
+change.
+
+"What new has brought that up?"
+
+"Nothing new. Something old. O Basil--his sister has been here to-day
+to see me."
+
+"Has she?" His voice did change a little then. "What did she come for?"
+
+"I don't know. And _he_ will be here, perhaps, by and by. O Basil, do
+you know who it is? And what shall I do?"
+
+Diana had sprung up from her chair and dropped down on the floor by her
+husband's side, and hid her face in her hands on his knee. His hand
+passed tenderly, sorrowfully, over the beautiful hair, which lay in
+disordered, bright, soft masses over head and neck. For a moment he did
+not speak.
+
+"Basil--do you know who it is?"
+
+"I know."
+
+"What shall I do?"
+
+"What do you want to do, Diana?"
+
+"Right"--she said, gasping, without looking up.
+
+"I am sure of it!" he said tenderly. "Well, then--the only way is, to
+go on and do right, Diana."
+
+"But how can I? how shall I? Suppose he comes? O Basil, it was all a
+mistake; he wrote, and mother kept back the letters, and I never got
+them; he sent them, and I never got them; and I thought he was not true
+and it did not matter what I did, and I honoured you above everything,
+Basil--and so--and so--I did what I did"--
+
+"What cannot be undone."
+
+"No--" she said, shivering.
+
+He passed his hands again over her soft hair, and bent down and kissed
+it.
+
+"You honour yourself, too, Diana, as well as me."
+
+"Yes--" she said, under breath.
+
+"And you honour our God, who has let all this come upon us both?"
+
+"But, O Basil! how could he? how could he?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"And yet you say he is good?"
+
+"And so you say too. The only good; the utterly, perfectly good; who
+loves his people, and keeps his promises, and who has said that all
+things shall work together for the good of those that love him."
+
+"How can such a thing as this?" she said faintly.
+
+"Suppose you and I cannot see how? Then faith comes in and believes it
+without seeing. We shall see by and by."
+
+"But Basil--suppose--Evan--comes?"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Suppose--he came--here?"
+
+"Well, Diana?"
+
+She was silent then, but she shook and trembled and writhed. Her head
+was still where she had laid it; her face hidden.
+
+"You are going through as great a trial, my poor wife, as almost ever
+falls to the lot of a mortal. But you will go through it, and come out
+from it; and then it will be found to have been 'unto praise and honour
+and glory'--by and by."
+
+"O how can you tell?"
+
+"I trust in God. And I trust you."
+
+"But I think he will come--here to Pleasant Valley, I mean. And if he
+comes--here, to this house, I mean"--
+
+"What then?"
+
+"What do you want me to do?"
+
+"About seeing him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What you like best to do, Diana."
+
+"Basil--he does not know."
+
+"What does he not know?"
+
+"About the letters or anything. He has never heard--never a word from
+me."
+
+"There was an understanding between you before he went away?"
+
+"Oh yes!"
+
+Both were silent again for a time; silent and still. Then Diana spoke
+timidly:
+
+"Do you think it would be wrong for him to know?"
+
+Her husband delayed his answer a little; truly, if Diana had something
+to suffer, so had he; and I suppose there was somewhat of a struggle in
+his own mind to be won through; however, the answer when it came was a
+quiet negative.
+
+"May I write and tell him?"
+
+He bent down and kissed her fingers as he replied--"I will."
+
+"O Basil," said the woman at his feet, "I have wished I could die a
+thousand times!--and I am well and strong, and I cannot die."
+
+"No," he said gravely; "we must not run away from our work."
+
+"Work!" said Diana, sitting back now and looking up at him;--"what
+work?"
+
+"The work our Master has given us to do to glorify him. To fight with
+evil and overcome it; to endure temptation, and baffle it; to carry our
+banner of salvation through the thick of the smoke and the fire, and
+never let it fall."
+
+"I am so weak, I cannot fight."
+
+"The fight of faith you can. The only sort of fighting that can
+prevail. Faith lays hold of Christ's strength, and so comes off more
+than conqueror. All you can do, is to hold fast to him."
+
+"O Basil! why does he let such things happen? why does he let such
+things happen? Here is my life broken--and yours; both broken and
+ruined."
+
+"No," the minister answered quietly,--"not mine, nor yours. Broken, if
+you will, but not ruined. Neither yours nor mine, Diana. With the love
+of Christ in our hearts, that can never be. He will not let it be."
+
+"It is all ruined," said Diana; "it is all ruined. I am full of evil
+thoughts, and no good left. I have wished to die, and I have wanted to
+run away--I felt as if I must"--
+
+"But instead of dying or running away, you have stood nobly and bravely
+to your post of suffering. Wait and trust. The Lord means good to us
+yet."
+
+"What possible good?"
+
+"Perhaps, that being stripped of all else, we may come to know him."
+
+"Is it necessary that people should be stripped of all before they can
+do that?"
+
+"Sometimes."
+
+Diana stood still, and again there was silence in the room. The soft
+June air, heavy with the breath of roses, floated in at the open
+window, bringing one of those sharp contrasts which make the heart sick
+with memory and longing; albeit the balsam of promise be there too.
+People miss that. "Now men see not the bright light that is in the
+clouds;" and how should they? when the darkness of night seems to have
+fallen; how can they even remember that behind that screen of darkness
+there is a flood of glory? There came in sounds at the window too, from
+the garden and the wood on the hillside; chirruping sounds of insects,
+mingled with the slight rustle of leaves and the trickle of water from
+a little brook which made all the noise it could over the stones in its
+way down the hill. The voices were of tender peace; the roses and the
+small life of nature all really told of love and care which can as
+little fail for the Lord's children as for the furniture of their
+dwelling-place. Yet that very unchangeableness of nature hurts, which
+should comfort. Diana stood still, desolate, to her own sense seeming a
+ruin already; and her husband sat in his place, also still, but he was
+calm. They were quiet long enough to think of many things.
+
+"You are very good, Basil!" Diana said at last.
+
+It was one of those words which hurt unreasonably. Not because they are
+not true words and heartily meant, but because they are the poor
+substitute for those we would like to hear, and give us an ugly scale
+to measure distances and differences by. Basil made no sort of answer.
+Diana stood still. In her confusion of thoughts she did not miss the
+answer. Then she began again.
+
+"Evan--I mean, Basil!"--and she started;--"I wish we could get away."
+
+"From Pleasant Valley?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"My work is here."
+
+Is mine here too? thought Diana, as she slowly went away into the other
+room. What is mine? To die by this fire that burns in me; or to freeze
+stiff in the cold that sometimes almost stops my heart's beating? She
+came up to the side of her baby's crib and stood there looking, dimly
+conscious of an inner voice that said her work was not death.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+
+
+SUNSHINE.
+
+
+
+A few days later, the minister came home one evening with a message for
+his wife.
+
+"Good old Mother Bartlett is going home, Diana, and she wants to see
+you."
+
+"Home? Is she dying, do you mean?"
+
+"_She_ does not mean it. To her, it is entering into life."
+
+"But what's the matter?"
+
+"You know she had that bad cold. I think the treatment was worse than
+the disease; and under the effects of both, her strength seems to have
+given way. She is sinking quietly."
+
+"I will go down there in the morning."
+
+So the next day, early, Basil drove his wife down and left her at the
+cottage. It was somehow to Diana's feeling just such another day as had
+been that other wonderful one when she had seen Evan first, and he
+harnessed Prince, and they came together over this very road. Perhaps
+soon Evan would be riding there again, without her, as she was going
+now without him. Never together again, never together again! and what
+was life to either of them apart? Diana went into the cottage walking
+as one in a dream.
+
+The cottage was in nice order, as usual, though no woman's hand had
+been about. Joe, rough as he was, could be what his friends called
+"real handy;" and he had put everything in trim and taken all care for
+his mother's comfort before he went out. The minister had told him
+Diana would be there; so after he had done this he went to his work.
+Mrs. Bartlett was lying on her bed in the inner room. Diana kissed her,
+with a heart too full at the moment to speak.
+
+"Did the minister bring you?" the old lady asked.
+
+"Yes. Are you all alone?"
+
+"The Lord never leaves his children alone, dear. They leave him
+sometimes. Won't you open the winders, Diana. Joe forgot that, and I
+want to see the sun."
+
+Diana rolled up the thick paper shades which hung over the windows, and
+put up the sashes. Summer air poured in, so full of warmth and
+brightness and sounds of nature's activity, that it seemed to roll up a
+tide of life to the very feet of the dying woman. She looked, and drew
+a deep breath or two.
+
+"That's good!" she said. "The Lord made the sunshine. Now sit down,
+dear; I want to see you. Sit down there, where I _can_ see you."
+
+"Does Joe leave you here by yourself?"
+
+"He knew you was comin'. Joe's a good boy. But I don't want him nor
+nobody hangin' round all the time, Diana. There ain't nothin' to do;
+only he forgot the winders, and I want to look out and see all my
+riches."
+
+"Your riches, Mother Bartlett?"--And she was not going to live but a
+few days more. Diana wondered if her senses were wandering. But the old
+lady smiled; the wise, sweet smile that Diana knew of old.
+
+"Whose be they, then?" she asked.
+
+"You mean, all this pretty summer day?"
+
+"Ain't it pretty? And ain't the sunshine clear gold? And ain't the sky
+a kind of an elegant canopy? And it's all mine, and all it covers, and
+he that made it too; and seein' what he makes, puts me in mind of how
+rich he is and what more he kin do. How's the baby?"
+
+For some little time the baby was talked of, in both present and future
+relations.
+
+"And you're very happy, Diana?" the old woman asked. "I hain't seen you
+now for quite a spell--'most all winter."
+
+"I ought to be"--Diana answered, hesitating.
+
+"Some things folks does because they had ought to," remarked the old
+lady, "but bein' happy ain't one of 'em. The whole world had ought to
+be happy, if you put it so. The Lord wants 'em to be."
+
+"Not happy"--said Diana hastily.
+
+"Yes. 'Tain't his fault if they ain't."
+
+"How can he want everybody to be happy, when he makes them so unhappy?"
+
+"He?--the Lord? He don't make nobody unhappy, child. How did that git
+in your head?"
+
+"Well, it comes to the same thing, Mother Bartlett. He lets things
+happen."
+
+"He hain't chained up Satan yet, if that's what you mean. But Satan
+can't do no harm to the Lord's children. He's tried, often enough, but
+the Lord won't let him."
+
+"But, Mother Bartlett, that's only a way of talking. I don't know if it
+is Satan does it, but every sort of terrible thing comes to them. How
+can you say it's not evil?"
+
+"'Cause the good Lord turns it to blessing, dear. Or if he don't, it's
+'cause they won't let him. O' course it is Satan does it--Satan and his
+ministers. 'Every good gift and every perfect gift cometh down from the
+Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of
+turning.' How should he be kind to-day and unkind to-morrow?"
+
+Diana could not trust her voice and was silent. The old woman looked at
+her, and said in a changed tone presently,
+
+"What's come to you, Diana Masters? You had ought to be the happiest
+woman there is livin'."
+
+Diana could not answer.
+
+"_Ain't_ you, dear?" Mrs. Bartlett added tenderly.
+
+"I didn't mean to speak of myself," Diana said, making a tremendous
+effort to bring out her words unconcernedly; "but I get utterly puzzled
+sometimes, Mother Bartlett, when I see such things happen--such things
+as do happen, and to good people too."
+
+"You ain't the fust one that's been puzzled that way," returned the old
+woman. "Job was all out in his reckoning once; and David was as stupid
+as a beast, he says. But when chillen gets into the dark, they're apt
+to run agin sun'thin' and hurt theirselves. Stay in the light, dear."
+
+"How can one, always?"
+
+"O, child, jes' believe the Lord's word. That'll keep you near him; and
+there is no darkness where he is."
+
+"What _is_ his word, that I must believe?--about this, I mean."
+
+"That he loves us, dear; loves us tender and true; like you love your
+little baby, only a deal more; and truer, and tenderer. For a woman
+_may_ forget her sucking child, but he never will forget. And all
+things he will make to 'work together for good to them that love him.'"
+
+Diana shook and trembled with the effort to command herself and not
+burst into a storm of weeping, which would have betrayed what she did
+not choose to betray. She sat by the bedpost, clasping it, and with the
+same clasp as it were holding herself. For a moment _she_ had
+"forgotten her sucking child,"--the words came home; and it was only by
+that convulsive hold of herself that she could keep from crying out.
+With her face turned away from the sick woman, she waited till the
+convulsion had passed; and then said in measured, deliberate accents,
+
+"It is hard to see how some things can turn out for good--some things I
+have known."
+
+"Well, you ain't infinite, be you?" said Mrs. Bartlett. "You can't see
+into the futur'; and what's more, you can't see into the present. You
+don't know what's goin' on in your own heart--not as _he_ knows it. No
+more you ain't almighty to change things. If I was you, I would jest
+trust him that is all-wise, and knows everything, and almighty and kin
+do what he likes."
+
+"Then why don't he make people good?"
+
+"I said, he kin do what he likes. He don't like to do people's own work
+for 'em. He _doos_ make 'em good, as soon as they're willin' and ask
+him. But the man sick with the palsy had to rise and take up his bed
+and walk; and what's more, he had to believe fust he could do it. I
+know the Lord gave the power, but the man had his part, you see."
+
+"Mother Bartlett," said Diana, rousing herself, "you must not talk so
+much."
+
+"Don't do me no harm, Diana."
+
+"But you have talked enough. Now let me give you your broth."
+
+"Then you must talk. I hain't so many opportunities o' social converse
+that I kin afford to let one of 'em slip. You must talk while I'm
+eatin'."
+
+But Diana seemed to have nothing to say. She watched the spoonfuls of
+broth in attentive silence.
+
+"What's new, Diana? there allays is sun'thin'."
+
+"Nothing new. Only"--said Diana, correcting herself, "the Knowltons are
+coming back to Elmfield. Mrs. Reverdy _is_ come."
+
+"Be the hull o' them comin'?"
+
+"I believe so."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"I don't know. To enjoy the summer, I suppose."
+
+"That's their sort," said the old woman slowly. "Jest to get pleasure.
+I used for to see 'em flyin' past here in all the colours o' the
+rainbow--last time they was in Pleasant Valley."
+
+"But God made the colours of the rainbow," said Diana.
+
+"So he did," the old lady answered, laughing a little. "So he did; and
+the colours of the flowers, which is the same colours, to be sure; but
+what then, Diana?"
+
+"I was thinking, Mother Bartlett--it cannot displease him that we
+should like them too."
+
+"No, child, it don't; nor it don't displease him to have us wear 'em,
+nother,--if we could only wear 'em as innercently as the flowers doos.
+If you kin, Diana, you may be as scarlet as a tulip or as bright as a
+marigold, for all I care."
+
+"But people are not any better for putting on dark colours," said Diana.
+
+"They're some modester, though."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"They ain't expectin' that folks'll be lookin' at 'em."
+
+"Mr. Masters likes me to wear bright dresses."
+
+"Then do it, child. It's considerable of a pleasure to have his eyes
+pleased. Do you know what a husband you've got, Diana?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He's 'most like one o' them flowers himself. He's so full o' the
+sweetness the Lord has put into him, and he's jest as unconscious that
+he's spreadin' it wherever he goes."
+
+Diana was silent. She would have liked again to burst into tears; she
+controlled herself as before.
+
+"That ain't the way with those Knowlton girls; nor it ain't the way
+they wear their fine colours, neither. Can't you get a little sense
+into their heads, Diana?"
+
+"I? They think nothing of me, Mother Bartlett."
+
+"Maybe not, two years ago, but they will now. You're the minister's
+wife, Diana. They allays sot a great deal by him."
+
+Diana was chewing the cud of this, when Mrs. Bartlett asked again,
+
+"Who's sick in the place?"
+
+"Quite a number. There's Mrs. Wilson at the tavern; she's sinking at
+last; my husband sees her every day. Then old Josh Lightfoot--he's down
+with I don't know what; very sick. Mrs. Saddler has a child that has
+been hurt; he was pitched off a load of hay and fell upon a fork; his
+mother is distracted about him, and it is all Mr. Masters can do to
+quiet her. And Lizzie Satterthwaite is going slowly, you know, in
+consumption, and _she_ expects to see him every day. And that isn't
+all; for over in the village of Bromble there is sickness--I suppose
+there always is in that miserable place."
+
+"And the minister goes there too, I'll be bound?"
+
+"O yes. He goes everywhere, if people want him. It takes twenty miles
+of riding a day, he told me, just to visit all these people that he
+must see."
+
+"Ay, ay," said the old woman contentedly; "enjoyment ain't the end of
+life, but to do the will of God; and he's doin' it. And enjoyment comes
+that way, too; ay, ay! 'an hundred-fold now, in this world, and in the
+world to come eternal life.' I hain't ever been able to do much, Diana;
+but it has been sweet--his service--all along the way; and now I'm
+goin' where it'll be nothin' but sweetness for ever."
+
+A little tired, perhaps, with talking, for she had talked with a good
+deal of energy, the old lady dozed off into a nap; and Diana sat alone
+with the summer stillness, and thought over and over some of the words
+that had been said. It was the hush of the summer stillness, and also
+the full pulse of the summer life that she felt as she sat there; not
+soothing to inaction, but stirring up the loving doing. A warm breath
+of vital energy, an odorous witness-bearing of life fruitfulness, a hum
+and a murmur of harmonious forces in action, a depth of colour in the
+light and in the shadow, which told of the richness and fullness of the
+natural world. Nothing idle, nothing unfruitful, nothing out of
+harmony, nothing in vain. How about Diana Masters, and her work and her
+part in the great plan? Again the gentle summer air which stole in,
+laden with such scents and sweets, rich and bountiful out of the
+infinite treasury, spoke of love at the heart of creation. But there
+were cold winds, too, sometimes; icy storms; desolations of tempests;
+they had been here not long ago. True, but yet it was not those, but
+_this_ which carried on the life of the world; this was the "Yes," and
+those others the "No," of creation; and an affirmative is stronger than
+a negative any day, by universal acknowledgment. Moreover, that "No"
+was in order to this "Yes;" gave way before it, yielded to it; and life
+reigned in spite of death. Vaguely Diana's mind felt and carried on the
+analogy, and the reasoning from analogy, and drew a chill, far-off hope
+from it. For it was the time of storm and desolation with her now, and
+the summer sun had not come yet. She sat musing while the old lady
+slumbered.
+
+"Hullo, Diany! here you be!" exclaimed the voice of Joe Bartlett,
+suddenly breaking in. "Here's your good man outside, waitin' for you, I
+guess; his horse is a leetle skittish. What ails your mother?"
+
+"My mother?"
+
+"Yes. Josh says--you see, I've bin down to mill to git some rye ground,
+and he was there; and what's more, he had the start of me, and I had to
+wait for him, or I wouldn't ha' stood there chatterin' while the sun
+was shinin' like it is to-day; that ain't my way. But Josh says she's
+goin' round groanin' at sun'thin'--and that ain't _her_ way, nother.
+Mind you, it ain't when anybody's by; I warrant you, she don't give no
+sign _then_ that anythin's botherin' her; Josh says it's when she's
+alone. I didn't ask him how he come to know so much, and so little; but
+I wisht I had," Joe finished his speech laughing.
+
+Diana took her hat, kissed the old woman, and went out to her husband,
+who was waiting for her. And some miles of the drive were made in
+silence. Then as the old brown house came in sight, with the weeping
+elms over the gate, Diana asked her husband to stop for a minute or
+two. He reined up under the elm trees and helped Diana out, letting
+her, however, go in alone.
+
+Diana was not often here, naturally; between her and her mother, who
+never in the best of times had stood near together or shared each
+other's deeper sympathies, a gulf had opened. Besides, the place was
+painful to Diana on other accounts. It was full of memories and
+associations; she always seemed to herself when there as a dead person
+might on revisiting the place where once he had lived; she felt dead to
+all but pain, and the impression came back with sharp torture that once
+she used to be alive. So as the shadow of the elm branches fell over
+her now, it hurt her inexpressibly. She was alive when she had dwelt
+under them; yes, she and Evan too. She hurried her steps and went in at
+the lean-to door.
+
+It was now long past mid-day. The noon meal was over, apparently, and
+every sign of it cleared away. The kitchen was in spotless order; but
+beside the table sat Mrs. Starling, doing nothing; an unheard-of state
+of affairs. Diana came farther in.
+
+"Mother"--
+
+"Well, Diana,"--said Mrs. Starling, looking up. "What's brought you
+now?"
+
+"I've been down to see Mrs. Bartlett--she sent for me--and I thought I
+would stop in as I went by. Mr. Masters is outside."
+
+"Well, I've no objection," said Mrs. Starling ambiguously.
+
+"How do you do?"
+
+"Middling."
+
+"Is all getting on well with the farm and the dairy?"
+
+"I don't let it be no other way."
+
+Diana saw that something was wrong, but knew also that if she were to
+find it out it would be by indirect ways.
+
+"May I go into the pantry and get some milk? I've been a good while
+from home, and I'm hungry."
+
+"Go along," said her mother ungraciously. "I should think likely, if
+_you_ are hungry, your baby is too. That's a new way of doing things.
+'Twarn't ever my way. A woman that's got a baby ought to attend to it.
+An' if she don't, her husband ought to make her."
+
+"I've not been gone so long as all that comes to," said Diana; and she
+went into the pantry, her old domain. The pans of milk looked friendly
+at her; the sweet clean smell of cream carried her back--it seemed
+ages--to a time when she was as sweet and clean. "Yet it is not my
+fault,"--she said to herself,--"it is _her's_--all her's." She snatched
+a piece of bread and a glass of milk, and swallowed it hastily. Then,
+as she came out, she saw that one of her mother's hands lay bandaged up
+in her lap under the table.
+
+"Mother, what's the matter with your hand?"
+
+"O, not much."
+
+"But what? It's all tied up. Have you burned it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What then? Cut yourself?"
+
+"I should like to know how I should go to work to cut my right hand!
+Don't make a fuss about nothing, Diana. It's only scalded."
+
+"Scalded! How?"
+
+"I shall never be able to tell that, to the end of my days," said Mrs.
+Starling. "If pots and kettles and that could be possessed, I should
+know what to think. I was makin' strawberry preserve--and the kettle
+was a'most full, and it was first rate preserve, and boiling, and
+almost done, and I had just set it down on the hearth; and then, I
+don't know how to this day, I stumbled--I don't know over what--and my
+arm soused right in."
+
+"Boiling sweetmeat!" cried Diana. "Mother, let me see. It must be
+dreadfully burned."
+
+"It's all done up," said Mrs. Starling coldly. "I was real put out
+about my preserves."
+
+"Have you had dinner?"
+
+"I never found I could live 'thout eating."
+
+"Who got dinner for you, and cleared away?"
+
+"Nobody. I did it myself."
+
+"For the men and all!"
+
+"Well, _they_ don't count to live without eatin', no mor'n I do," said
+Mrs. Starling with a short laugh.
+
+"And you did it with one hand!"
+
+"Did you ever know me to stop in anything I had to do, for want of a
+hand?" said Mrs. Starling scornfully.
+
+No, thought Diana to herself; nor for want of anything else, even
+though it were right or conscience. Aloud she only said,
+
+"I must go home to baby"--
+
+"You had better, I should think," her mother broke in.
+
+"Can I do anything for you first?"
+
+"You can see for yourself, there is nothing to do."
+
+"Shall I come back and stay with you to-night?"
+
+"You had better ask the Dominie."
+
+"Mother, he _never_ wants me to do anything but just what is right,"
+Diana said seriously. Mrs. Starling lifted up her head and gave a
+curious searching look into her daughter's face. What was she trying to
+find?
+
+"That's one turtle dove," she said. "And are you another, and always
+bob your head when he bobs his'n?"
+
+Diana wondered at this speech; it seemed to her, her mother was losing
+ground even in the matter of language. No thought of irritation crossed
+her; she was beyond trifles now. She made no answer; she merely bade
+her mother good-bye, and hurried out. And for a long while the drive
+was again in silence. Then, when the grey horse was walking up a hill,
+Diana spoke in a meditative sort of way.
+
+"Basil--you said enjoyment was not the end of life"--
+
+"Did I?" he answered gravely.
+
+"If you didn't, it was Mother Bartlett. You _do_ say so, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes. It is not the end of life."
+
+"What is, then?"
+
+"To do the will of God. And by and by, if not sooner, enjoyment comes
+that way too, Diana. And when it comes that way, it stays, and lasts."
+
+"How long?"
+
+"For ever and ever!"
+
+Diana waited a few minutes and then spoke again.
+
+"Basil--I want to consult you."
+
+"Well, do it."
+
+"Ought I to leave my mother to live alone, as she is? She is not young
+now."
+
+"What would you do?"
+
+"If I knew, Basil, I would like it to do what I _ought_ to do."
+
+"Would you take her to live with you?"
+
+"If you would?--and she would."
+
+Basil put his arm round his wife and bent down and kissed her. He would
+not have done it if he could have guessed how she shrank.
+
+"If you will take life on those terms," he said, "then it will be true
+for you, that 'sorrow may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the
+morning.'"
+
+It will be the morning of the resurrection, then, thought Diana; but
+she only replied,
+
+"What 'terms,' Basil, do you mean?"
+
+"Doing the Lord's will. His will is always good, Diana, and brings
+sweet fruit; only you must wait till the fruit is ripe, my child."
+
+"Then what about mother?"
+
+"I do not believe she would come to us."
+
+"Nor I. Suppose she would let us come to her?"
+
+"Then I would go,--if you wished it."
+
+"I don't wish it, Basil. I was thinking, if I could bear it? But the
+thought will not out of my head, that she ought not to be alone."
+
+"Then do what is in thine heart," the minister said cheerfully.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+
+
+A JUNE DAY.
+
+
+
+Mrs. Starling hesitated, when Diana proposed her plan; she would think
+of it, she said. But when she began to think of it, the attractions
+were found irresistible. To have her grandchild in the house beside
+her, perhaps with a vague thought of making up to her daughter in some
+unexplained way for the wrong she had done; at any rate, to have voices
+and life in the house again, instead of the bare silence; voices of
+people that belonged to her own blood; Mrs. Starling found that she
+could not give up the idea, once it got into her head. Then she
+objected that the house was too small.
+
+The minister said he would put up an addition of a couple of rooms for
+himself and Diana, and Diana's old room could serve as a nursery.
+
+Who wants a nursery? Mrs. Starling demanded. Her idea of a nursery was
+the whole house and all out of doors. The minister laughed and said
+that was not _his_ idea; and Mrs. Starling was fain to let it pass. She
+was human, though she was not a good woman; and Diana's proposal to
+come back to her had, though she would never allow it even to herself,
+touched both her heart and her conscience. Somewhere very deep down and
+out of sight, nevertheless it was true; and it was true that she had
+been very lonely; and she let the minister have his own way,
+undisputed, about the building.
+
+The carpenters were set to work at once, and at home Diana quietly made
+preparations for a removal in the course of a few months. She buried
+herself in business as much as ever she could, to still thought and
+keep her nerves quiet; for constantly, daily and nightly now, the image
+of Evan was before her, and the possibility that he might any day
+present himself in very flesh and blood. No precautions were of any
+avail; if he chose to seek her out, Diana could not escape him unless
+by leaving Pleasant Valley; and that was not possible. Would he come?
+She looked at that question from every possible point of the compass,
+and from every one the view that presented itself was that he would
+come. Nay, he ought not; it would be worse than of no use for them to
+see each other; and yet, something in Diana's recollections of him, or,
+it might be, something in the consciousness of her own nature, made her
+say to herself that he would come. How should she bear it? She almost
+wished that Basil would forbid it, and take measures to make it
+impossible; but the minister went his way unmoved and quiet as usual;
+there was neither fear nor doubt on his broad fair brow. Diana
+respected him immensely; and at times felt a great pang of grief that
+his face should wear such a shade of gravity as was habitual to it now.
+Knowing him so well as she did by this time, she could guess that
+though the gravity never degenerated into gloom, the reason was to be
+found solely and alone in the fact that Basil's inner life was fed by
+springs which were beyond the reach of earthly impoverishing or
+disturbing. How much better she thought him than herself!--as she
+looked at the calm, stedfast beauty of his countenance, which matched
+his daily life and walk. No private sorrow touched that. Never thinking
+of himself nor seeking his own, he was busy from morning till night
+with the needs of others; going from house to house, carrying help,
+showing light, bringing comfort, guiding into the way, pointing out the
+wrong; and at home,--Diana knew with what glad resort he went to his
+Bible and prayer for his own help and wisdom, and wrought out the
+lessons that were to be given openly in the little hillside church.
+Diana knew, too, what flowers of blessings were springing up along his
+path; what fruits of good. "The angel of the church" in Pleasant Valley
+he was, in a sense most true and lovely, although that be not the
+original bearing of the phrase in the Revelation, where Alford thinks,
+and I think, no human angels are intended. Nevertheless, that was Basil
+here; and his wife, who did not love him, honoured him to the bottom of
+her heart.
+
+And in her self-reproach and her humility, Diana wrote bitterer things
+against herself than there was any need. For she, too, was doing her
+daily work with a lovely truth of aim and simpleness of purpose. With
+all the joys of life crushed out, she was walking the way which had
+become so weary with a steady foot, and with hands ready and diligent
+to do all they found to do. In another sort from her husband, the fair,
+calm, grave woman was the angel of her household. I can never tell you
+how beautiful Diana was now. If the careless light glance of the girl
+was gone, there was now, instead, the deeper beauty of a nature that
+has loved and suffered; that ripening process of humanity, without
+which it never comes to its full bloom and fruitage; though that be a
+very material image for the matter in hand. And there was besides in
+Diana the dignity of bearing of one who is lifted above all small
+considerations of every kind; that is, not above small duties, but
+above petty interests. Therefore, in this woman, who had never seen and
+scarcely imagined courts, even in the minister's house in Pleasant
+Valley, there was the calm poise and grace which we associate in our
+speech and thoughts with the highest advantages of social relations. So
+extremes sometimes meet. In Diana it was due to her inborn nobility of
+nature and the sharp discipline of sorrow; in aid of which practically
+came also her perfection of physical health and form. It must be
+remembered, too, that she had been now for a good while in the close
+companionship of a man of great refinement and culture, and that both
+study and conversation had lifted her by this time far out of the
+intellectual sphere in which the beginning of our story found her.
+
+The carpenters were going on vigorously with their work on the new
+rooms adding to Mrs. Starling's house; and Diana was making, as she
+could from time to time, her little preparations for the removal,
+which, however, could not take place yet for some time. It was in the
+beginning of July. Diana was up-stairs one day, looking over the
+contents of a trunk, and cutting up pieces for patchwork. Windows were
+open, of course, and the scent of new hay came in with the warm air.
+Haymaking was going on all over Pleasant Valley. By and by Miss Collins
+put her head in.
+
+"Be you fixed to see folks?"
+
+"Who wants me?"
+
+"Well, there's somebody comin'; and I reckon it's one or other o' them
+fly-aways from Elmfield."
+
+"Here?" said Diana, starting up and trembling.
+
+"Wall, there's one of 'em comin', I guess--I see the carriage--and I
+thought maybe you warn't ready to see no one. When one gets into a
+trunk it's hard to get out again. So I thought I'd jes' come and tell
+ye. There she is comin' up the walk. Hurry, now."
+
+
+Down went Miss Collins to let the visitor in, and Diana did hurry and
+changed her dress. What can she be come for? she questioned with
+herself meanwhile; for it was Mrs. Reverdy, she had seen. No good! no
+good! But nobody would have guessed that Diana had ever been in a
+hurry, that saw her entrance the next minute upon her visitor. That
+little lady felt a sort of imposing effect, and did not quite know how
+to do what she had come for.
+
+"I always think there has come some witchery over my eyes," she said
+with her invariable little laugh of ingratiation, "when I see you. I
+always feel a kind of new surprise. Is it the minister that has changed
+you so? What's he done?"
+
+"Changed me?" Diana repeated.
+
+"Why, yes; you are changed. You are not like what you were two years
+ago--three years ago--how long is it."
+
+"It is three years ago," said Diana, trying to smile. "I am three years
+older."
+
+"O, it isn't that. _I'm_ three years older. I suppose I didn't see
+enough of you then to find you out. It was my fault. But if you had
+married somebody belonging to me, I can tell you, I should have been
+very proud of my sister-in-law."
+
+She laughed at the compliment she was making, laughed lightly; while
+Diana inwardly shook, like a person who has received a sudden sharp
+blow, and staggers in danger of losing his footing. Did she waver
+visibly before her adversary's eyes, she wondered? She was sure her
+colour did not change. She found nothing to say, in any case; and after
+a moment her vision cleared and she had possession of herself again.
+
+"I am saucy," said Mrs. Reverdy, smiling, "but nobody thinks of minding
+anything I say. That's the good of being little and insignificant, as I
+am."
+
+Diana was inclined to wish her visitor would not presume upon her
+harmlessness.
+
+"I should as soon think of being rude to a duchess," Mrs. Reverdy went
+on; "or to a princess. I don't see how Evan ever made up his mind to go
+away and leave you."
+
+"Is it worse to be rude to a duchess than to other people?" Diana
+asked, seizing the first part of this speech as a means to get over the
+last.
+
+"I never tried," said Mrs. Reverdy; "I never had the opportunity, you
+know. I might have danced with the Prince of Wales, perhaps, when he
+was here. I know a lady who did, and she said she wasn't afraid of
+_him_. If you had been there, I am sure she would not have got the
+chance."
+
+"You forget, I am not a dancer."
+
+"O, not now, of course--but then you wouldn't have been a minister's
+wife."
+
+"Why should not a minister's wife dance as well as other people?"
+
+"O, I don't know!" said Mrs. Reverdy lightly; "but they never do, you
+know. They are obliged to set an example."
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"Of everything that is proper, I suppose. Don't you feel that
+everybody's eyes are upon you, always, watching everything you do?"
+
+A good reminder! But Diana answered simply that she never thought about
+it.
+
+"Don't you! Isn't the minister always reminding you of what people will
+think?"
+
+"No. It isn't his way."
+
+"Doesn't he? Why, without being a minister, that is what my husband
+used always to be doing to me. I was a little giddy, you know," said
+Mrs. Reverdy, laughing; "I was very young; and I used to have plenty of
+admonitions."
+
+"I believe Mr. Masters thinks we should only care about God's eyes,"
+Diana said quietly.
+
+Mrs. Reverdy startled a little at that, and for a moment looked grave.
+From Diana she had not expected this turn.
+
+"I never think about anything!" she said then with a laugh, that looked
+as if it were meant to be one of childlike, ingenuousness. "Don't think
+me very bad. Everybody can't be good and discreet like you and Mr.
+Masters."
+
+"Very few people are like Mr. Masters," Diana assented.
+
+"We all know that. And in the daily beholding of his superiority, have
+you quite forgotten everything else?--your old lover and all?"
+
+"Whom do you mean?" Diana asked, with a calm coldness at which she
+wondered herself.
+
+"I mean Evan, to be sure. You know he was your old lover. He wants to
+see you. He has not forgotten you, at any rate. Have you entirely
+forgotten him? Poor fellow! he has had a hard time of it."
+
+"I have not forgotten Mr. Knowlton at all," Diana said with difficulty,
+for it seemed to her that her throat was suddenly paralyzed.
+
+"You have not forgotten him? I may tell him that? Do you know, he raves
+about you?--I wish you could hear him once. He is Captain Knowlton now,
+you must understand; he has got his advancement early; but one or two
+people died, and somebody else was removed out of his way; and so he
+stepped into his captaincy. Lucky fellow! he always has been lucky;
+except just in one thing; and he thinks that spoils all. May he come
+and see you, Diana? He has given me no peace until I would come and ask
+you, and he will never have any peace, that I can see, if you refuse
+him. Poor fellow! there he is out there all this time, champing the bit
+worse than the horses."
+
+And the woman said it all with her little civil smile and laugh, as if
+she were talking about sugar plums!
+
+"Is he here?" cried Diana.
+
+"With the horses--waiting to know the success of my mission; and I have
+been afraid to ask you, for fear you should say no; and I _cannot_
+carry back such an answer to him. May I tell him to come in?"
+
+"Why should not he come to see me, as well as any other friend?" said
+Diana. But the quiver in her voice gave the answer to her own question.
+
+"Of course!" said Mrs. Reverdy, rising with a satisfied face. "There is
+no reason in the world why he should not, if you have kindness enough
+left for him to let him come. Then I'll go out and tell him to come in;
+for the poor fellow is sitting on sword's points all this while." And
+laughing at her supposed happy professional allusion, the lady withdrew.
+
+Diana flew up the stairs to her own room. She did not debate much the
+question whether she ought to see Evan; it came to her rather as a
+thing that she _must_ do; there was no question in the case. However,
+perhaps the question only lay very deep down in her consciousness, for
+the justification presented itself, that to refuse to see him, would be
+to confess both to his sister and himself that there was danger in it.
+Diana never could confess that, whatever the fact. So, answering dumbly
+the doubt that was as wordless, without stopping a moment she caught up
+her sleeping baby out of its cradle, and drawing the cradle after her
+went into her husband's study. Basil was there, she knew, at work. He
+looked up as she came in. Diana drew the cradle near to him, and
+carefully laid the still sleeping, fair and fat little bundle from her
+arms down in it again; this was done gently and deliberately enough;
+no hurry and no perturbation. Then she stood upright.
+
+"Basil, will you take care of her? He is come."
+
+The minister looked up into his wife's face; he knew what she meant.
+And he felt as he looked at her, how far she was from him. There was no
+smile on Diana's lips, indeed; on the contrary, an intensity of
+feelings that were not pleasurable; and yet, and yet, he who has looked
+for the light of love in an eye and missed it long, knows it when he
+sees it, even though it be not for him. The four eyes met each other
+steadily.
+
+"Shall I see him?" Diana asked.
+
+Basil stretched out his hand to her. "I can trust you, Diana."
+
+She put her cold hand in his for a minute and hurried away. Then, as
+she reached the other room, she heard in the hall below a step, the
+step she had not heard for years; and her heart made one spring back
+over the interval. In the urgency of action, Diana's colour had hardly
+changed until now; now she turned deadly white, and for one instant
+sank on her knees by her bedside with her heart full of a mute,
+unformed prayer for help. It was fearful to go on, but she must go on
+now; she must see Evan; he was there; questions were done; and as she
+went down-stairs, while her face was white, and pain almost confused
+her senses, there was a stir of keen joy at her heart--fierce, like
+that of a wild beast which has been robbed of its prey but has got it
+again. She tried for self-command, and as one mean towards it forced
+herself to go deliberately. No hasty steps should be heard on the
+stairs or in the floor. Even so, the way was short; a moment, and she
+had entered the room, and she and Evan were face to face once more.
+
+Face to face, and yet, neither dared look at the other. He was
+standing, waiting for her; she came a few paces into the room and stood
+still opposite him; they did not touch each other's hands; they made no
+show of greeting. How should they? in each other's presence indeed they
+were, with but a small space of transparent air between, to the sense;
+and yet, a barrier mountains high, of impassible ice, to the mind's
+apprehension. You could have heard a pin drop in the room; the two
+stood there, a few yards apart, not even looking at each other, yet
+intensely conscious each all the while of the familiar outlines and
+traits so long unseen, so well known by heart. Breathing the air of the
+same room again, and nevertheless miles and miles apart; that was what
+they were feeling. The miles could not be bridged over; what use to try
+to bridge over the yards? Diana was growing whiter, if whiter could be;
+Evan's head sank lower. At last the man succumbed; sat down; buried his
+head in his hands, and groaned aloud. Diana stood like a statue, but
+looking at him now.
+
+What is it in little things which has such power over us? As Diana
+stood there looking, it was little things which stabbed her as if each
+were a sharp sword. The set of Evan's shoulders, the waves of his hair,
+the very gold shoulder-straps on the well-remembered blue uniform
+undress; his cap which lay on her table, with its service symbols. Is
+it that the sameness of these material trifles seems to assert that
+nothing is changed, and so makes the change more incredible and
+dreadful? I cannot describe the woful pain which the sight of these
+things gave Diana. With them came the fresh remembrance of all the
+manly beauty and grace of Evan in which she had once sunned herself,
+and the contrast of her husband. Not that Basil's personal appearance
+was ever to be despised, any more than himself; his figure was good,
+and his face had a beauty of its own, possibly a higher kind of beauty;
+but it was not the type of a hero of romance; and Evan's, to Diana's
+fancy, _was;_ and it had been her romance. She stood still, motionless,
+breathless. If anybody spoke, it must be he. But at last she trembled
+too much to stand, and she sat down too.
+
+"How has it happened, Diana?" Evan asked without looking up.
+
+"I don't know,"--she said just above her breath.
+
+"How could you do so?"
+
+Well, it suited him well to reproach her! What matter? Things could not
+be more bitter than they were. She did not try to answer.
+
+"You have ruined both our lives. _Mine_ is ruined; I am ruined. I shall
+never be worth anything now. I don't care what becomes of me."
+
+As she still did not answer, he looked up, and their eyes met. Once
+meeting, they could not quit each other. Diana's gaze was sad enough,
+but eager with the eagerness of long hunger. His was sharp with pain at
+first, keen with unreasonable anger; one of the mind's resorts from
+unbearable torment. Then as he looked it changed and grew soft; and
+finally, springing up, he went over to where she sat, dropped on his
+knees before her, and seizing her hands kissed them one after the other
+till tears began to mingle with the kisses. She was passive; she could
+not drive him off; she felt that she and he must have this one moment
+to bury their past in; it was only when her hands were growing wet with
+his tears that she roused herself to an effort.
+
+"Evan--Evan--listen to me! You mustn't--remember, I am a man's wife."
+
+"How could you?"
+
+"I did not know what I was doing."
+
+"Have you given up loving me?"
+
+"What is the use of talking of it, Evan? I am another man's wife."
+
+"But there are such things as divorces."
+
+"Hush! Do not speak of such a thing."
+
+"I must speak of it. Whom do you love? tell me that first."
+
+"No one has a right to ask me such a question."
+
+"_I_ have a right," cried the young man; "for I have been deceived,
+cheated, robbed of my own; and I have a right to get back my own.
+Diana, speak! do you love me less than you used to do? Tell me that."
+
+"I do not change, Evan."
+
+"Then you have no business to be anybody's wife but mine. Nothing can
+hinder _that_, Diana."
+
+"Stop! You are not to speak so. I will not hear it."
+
+"You are mine, Diana."
+
+"I _was_ yours, Evan!" she said tenderly, bending her head over him
+till her lips touched his hair. "We have been parted, and it is
+over--over for this world. You must go your way, and I must go mine.
+And you must not say, I am ruined."
+
+"Do not you say it?"
+
+"I must not."
+
+"It is the truth for me, if I do not have you with me."
+
+"It is not the truth," she said with infinite tenderness in her manner.
+"Not ruined, Evan. We can go our way and do our work, even if we are
+not happy. _That_ is another thing."
+
+"Then you are not happy?" he said eagerly.
+
+Diana did not reply.
+
+"Why should we not be happy?" he went on passionately, looking up now
+into her face. "You are mine, Diana--you belonged to me first, you have
+been mine all along; only I have been robbed of you;--pure robbery;
+nothing else. And has not a man a right to his own, wherever and
+whenever he finds it? You had given yourself first to me. That is
+irrevocable."
+
+"No"--she said with the same gentleness, in every tone of which lurked
+an unutterable sorrow; it would have broken her husband's heart to hear
+her; and yet she was quiet, so quiet that she awed the young officer a
+little. "No--I had promised to give myself to you; that is all."
+
+"You gave me your heart, Di?"
+
+She was silent, for at the moment she could not speak
+
+"Di!"--he insisted.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That is enough. That is all."
+
+"It is not all. Since then I have"--
+
+"How could you do it, Diana? how could you do it, after your heart was
+mine? _while_ your heart was mine!"
+
+"I was dead," she said in the same low, slow, impressive way. "I
+thought I was dead,--and that it did not matter any more what I did,
+one way or another. I thought I was dead; and when I found out that
+there was life in me yet, it was too late." A slight shudder ran over
+her shoulders, which Evan, however, did not see.
+
+"And you doubted me!" said he.
+
+"I heard nothing"--
+
+"Of course!--and that was enough to make you think I was nothing but a
+featherhead!"--
+
+"I thought I was not good enough for you," she said softly.
+
+"Not good enough!" cried Evan. "When you are just a pearl of
+perfection--a diamond of loveliness--more than all I knew you would
+be--like a queen rather than like a common mortal. And I could have
+given you a place fit for you; and here you are"--
+
+"Hush!" she said softly, but it stopped him.
+
+"_Why_ did you never hear from me? I wrote, and wrote, and O, Diana,
+how I looked for something from you! I walked miles on the way to meet
+the waggon that brought our mails; I could hardly do my duty, or eat,
+or sleep, at last. I would ride then to meet the post-carrier, though
+it did not help me, for I could not open the bags till they were
+brought into the post; and then I used to go and gallop thirty miles to
+ride away from myself. _Why_ did you never write one word?"
+
+"I did not know your address," she said faintly.
+
+"I gave it you, over and over."
+
+"You forget,--I never got the letters."
+
+"What became of them?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"What was her motive?"
+
+"I suppose--I don't know."
+
+"What do you suppose?"
+
+"What is the use of talking about it, Evan?"
+
+"My poor darling!" said he, looking up in her face again "it has been
+hard on you too. Oh Di, my Di! I cannot lose you!"--
+
+He was still kneeling before her, and she put her two hands on his
+head, smoothing or rather pushing back the short locks from his temples
+on either side, looking as one looks one's last on what one loves. Her
+eyes were dry, and large with pain which did not allow the eyelids
+their usual droop; her mouth was in the saddest lines a woman's lips
+can take, but they did not tremble.
+
+"Hush," she said again softly. "I am lost to you. That is over. Now go
+and do a man's work in the world, and if I hear of you, let me hear
+good."
+
+"Haven't you got one kiss for me?"
+
+She bent lower down, and kissed his brow. She kissed it twice; but the
+manner of the woman was of such high and pure dignity that the young
+officer, who would else have had no scruple, did not dare presume upon
+it. He took no more than she gave; bent his head again when she took
+her hands away, and covered his face, as at first. They were both still
+awhile.
+
+"Evan--you must go," she whispered.
+
+"When may I come again?"
+
+She did not answer.
+
+"I am coming very soon again, Di. I must see you often--I must see you
+very often, while I am here. I cannot live if I do not see you. I do
+not see how I can live any way!"
+
+"Don't speak so."
+
+"How do _you_ expect to bear it?" he asked jealously.
+
+"I don't know. We shall find as the days come."
+
+"Life looks so long!"--
+
+"Yes. But we have got something to do in it."
+
+"I have not. Not now."
+
+"Every one has. And a brave man, or a brave woman, will do what he has
+to do, Evan."
+
+"I am not brave, except in the way every man is brave. When may I come,
+Diana? To-morrow?"
+
+"O no!"
+
+"Why not? Then when?"
+
+"Not this week."
+
+"But this is Tuesday."
+
+"Yes. And Mrs. Reverdy is waiting for you all this while."
+
+"I have been waiting all these years. She don't know what waiting
+means. Mayn't I come again before Monday?"
+
+"Certainly not. You must wait till then, and longer."
+
+"I am not going to wait longer. Then Monday, Diana?"
+
+He stretched out his hand to her, and she laid hers within it. The
+first time that day; the first time since so many days. Hands lingered,
+were slow to unclasp, loath to leave the touch which was such exquisite
+pain and pleasure at once. Then, without looking again, slowly,
+deliberately, as all her movements had been made, Diana withdrew from
+the room; not bearing, perhaps, to stay and have him leave her, or
+doubting of her power to make him go, or unable to endure anything more
+for this time. She left him standing there, and slowly went up the
+stairs. But the moment she got to her room she stopped, and stood with
+her hands pressed upon her heart, listening; every particle of colour
+vanishing from her face, and her eyes taking a strained look of
+despair; listening to the footsteps that, also slowly, now went through
+the hall. When they went out and had quitted the house, she flew to the
+window. She watched to see the stately figure go along the little walk
+and out at the gate; she had hardly dared to look at him down-stairs.
+Now her eye sought out every well-known line and trait with an
+eagerness like the madness of thirst. Yes, he had grown broader in the
+shoulders; his frame was developed; he had become more manly, and so
+even finer in appearance than ever. Without meaning it, Diana drew
+comparisons. How well he walked! what a firm, sure, graceful gait! How
+beloved of old time was the officer's undress coat, and the little cap
+which reminded Diana so inevitably of the time when it was at home on
+her table or lying on a chair near! Only for a minute or two she tasted
+the bitter-sweet pang of associations; and then cap and wearer were
+passed from her sight.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+
+
+WIND AND TIDE.
+
+
+
+How that night went by it would be useless to try to tell. Some things
+cannot be described. A loosing of all the bands of law and order in the
+material world we call chaos; and once in a while the mental nature of
+some poor mortal falls for a time into a like condition. No hold of
+anything, not even of herself; no clear sense of anything, except of
+the disorder and pain; no hope at the moment that could fasten on
+either world, the present or the future; no will to lay hold of the
+unruly forces within her and reduce them to obedience. An awful night
+for Diana, such as she never had spent, nor in its full measure would
+ever spend again. Nevertheless, through all the confusion, under all
+the tumult, there was one fixed point; indeed, it was the point round
+which all the confusion worked, and which Diana was dimly conscious of
+all the while; one point of action. At the time she could not steady
+herself to look at it; but when the dawn came up in the sky, with its
+ineffable promise of victory by and by,--and when the rays of the sun
+broke over the hills with their golden performance of conquest begun,
+strength seemed to come into her heart. Certainly light has no
+fellowship with darkness; and the spiritual and the material are more
+closely allied, perhaps, than we wot of. Diana washed herself and
+dressed, and felt that she had done with yesterday.
+
+It was a worn and haggard face that was opposite Basil at the breakfast
+table; but she sat there, and poured out his tea with not less care
+than usual. Except for cups of tea, the meal was not much more than a
+pretence. After it was done, Diana followed her husband to his study.
+
+"Basil," she said, "I must go away."
+
+Mr. Masters started, and asked what she meant.
+
+"I mean just that," said Diana. "I must go away Basil, help me!"
+
+"Help you, my child?" said he; "I will help you all I can. But sit
+down, Diana; you are not able to stand. Why do you want to go away?"
+
+"I must."
+
+"Where do you wish to go?"
+
+"I do not know. I do not care. Anywhere."
+
+"You have no plan?"
+
+"No; only to get away."
+
+"Why, Diana?" he said very tenderly. "Is it necessary?"
+
+"Yes, Basil. I must go."
+
+"Do you know that it would be extremely difficult for me to leave home
+just at present? There are so many people wanting me."
+
+"I know that. I have thought of all that. You cannot go. Let me go, and
+baby."
+
+"Where, my dear?
+
+"I don't know," she said with almost a sob. "You must know. You must
+help me, Basil."
+
+Basil looked at her, and took several turns up and down the room, in
+sorrow and perplexity.
+
+"What is your reason, Di?" he asked gently. "If I understood your
+thought better, I should know better how to meet it."
+
+"I must be away," said Diana vaguely. "I must not be here. I musn't be
+where I can see--anybody. Nobody must know where I am, Basil--do you
+understand? You must send me away, and you must not tell _anybody_."
+
+The minister walked up and down, thinking. He let go entirely the
+thought of arguing with Diana. She had the look at moments of a
+creature driven to bay; and when not so, the haggard, eager, appealing
+face filled his inmost heart with grief and pity. Nobody better than
+Basil could manage the unreasonable and bring the disorderly to
+obedience; he had a magical way with him; but now he only meditated how
+Diana's wish was to be met. It was not just easy, for he had few family
+connections in the world, and she had none.
+
+"I can think of nobody to whom I should like to send you," he said.
+"Unless"--
+
+He waited, and Diana waited; then he finished his sentence.
+
+"I was going to say, unless a certain old grandaunt of mine. Perhaps
+she would do."
+
+"I do not care where or who it is," said Diana.
+
+"I care, though."
+
+"Where does she live?"
+
+"On Staten Island."
+
+"Staten Island?" repeated Diana.
+
+"Yes. It is near New York; about an hour from the city, down the bay."
+
+"The bay of New York?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"May I go there?" said Diana. "That would do."
+
+"How soon do you wish to go?"
+
+"To-day, if I could!" she said with a half-caught breath. "Can I,
+Basil? To-day is best."
+
+Mr. Masters considered again.
+
+"Will you be ready to go by the seven o'clock train this evening?"
+
+"Yes. O yes!"
+
+"Very well. We will take that."
+
+"_We?_" Diana repeated. "Must I take you, Basil, away from your work?
+Cannot I go alone?"
+
+He looked up at her with a very sweet grave smile as he answered, "Not
+possibly."
+
+"I am a great deal of trouble"--she said with a woful expression.
+
+"Go and make your preparations," he said cheerfully; "and I will tell
+you about Aunt Sutphen when we are off."
+
+There was no bustle in the house that day, there was no undue stir of
+making arrangements; but at the time appointed Diana was ready. She had
+managed to keep Miss Collins in the dark down to the very last minute,
+and answered her questions then with, "I can't tell you. You must ask
+Mr. Masters." And Diana knew anybody might as well get the Great
+Pyramid to disclose its secrets.
+
+That night's train took them to Boston. The next morning they went on
+their way towards New York; and so far Mr. Masters had found no good
+time for his proposed explanations. Diana was busied with the baby, and
+contrived to keep herself away from him or from communication with him.
+He saw that she was engrossed, preoccupied, suffering, and that she
+shunned him; and he fell back and waited. In New York, he established
+Diana in a hotel and left her, to go himself alone to the Island and
+have an interview with his aunt.
+
+Diana alone in a Broadway hotel, felt a little like a person
+shipwrecked in mid-ocean. What was all this bustling, restless, driving
+multitude around her like, but the waves of the sea, to which Scripture
+likens them? and the roar of their tumult almost bewildered her senses.
+Proverbially there is no situation more lonely to the feeling than the
+midst of a strange crowd; and Diana, sitting at her window and looking
+down into the busy street, felt alone and cast adrift as she never had
+felt in her life before. _Her_ life seemed done, finished, as far as
+regarded hope or joy; nothing left but weary and dragging existence;
+and the eager hurrying hither and thither of the city crowd struck on
+her view as aimless and fruitless, and so very drear to look at? What
+was it all for?--seeing life was such a thing as she had found it. The
+wrench of coming away from Pleasant Valley had left her with a reaction
+of dull, stunned, and strained nerves; she was glad she had come away,
+glad she was no longer there; and that was the only thing she was glad
+of in the wide, wide world.
+
+Some degree of rest came with the quiet of those hours alone in the
+hotel. Basil was gone until the evening, and Diana had time to recover
+a little from the fatigue of the journey, and in the perfect solitude
+also from the overstrain of the nerves. She began to remember Basil's
+part in all this, and to be sensible how true and faithful and kind he
+was; how very unselfish, how patient with her and with pain. Diana
+could have wept her heart out over it, if that would have done any
+good; and indeed supposing that she could have shed tears at all, which
+she could not just then. She only felt sore and sorry for her husband;
+and then she took some pains with her toilet, and refreshed herself so
+as to look pleasant to his eyes when he came home.
+
+He came home only to a late supper. He looked somewhat weary, but his
+eye brightened when he saw Diana, and he came up and kissed her.
+
+"Diana--God is good," he said to her.
+
+"Yes," she answered, looking up drearily, "I believe it."
+
+"But you do not feel it yet. Well, remember, it is true, and you will
+feel it some day. It is all right with Aunt Sutphen."
+
+"She will let me come?"
+
+"She is glad to have you come. The old lady is very much alone. And she
+does me the honour to say that she expects my wife will know how to
+behave herself."
+
+"What does she mean by that?" said Diana, a little startled.
+
+"I don't know! Aunt Sutphen has her own notions respecting behaviour. I
+did not inquire, Diana; knowing that, whatever her meaning might be, it
+was the same thing so far as you are concerned."
+
+"Basil--you are very good!" Diana said after a pause and with a
+trembling lip.
+
+"I can take compliments from Aunt Sutphen," he said with a bit of his
+old dry humorous manner, "but from you I don't know what to do with
+them. Come to supper, Di; we must take the first boat for Clifton
+to-morrow morning, if we can, to let me get back on my way to Pleasant
+Valley."
+
+The first boat was very early. The city, however, had long begun its
+accustomed roar, so that the change was noticeable and pleasant as soon
+as the breadth of a few furlongs was put between the boat and the
+wharf. Stillness fell, only excepting the noise made by the dash of the
+paddle-wheels and the breathing and groaning of the engine; and that
+seemed quietness to Diana, in contrast with the restless hum and roar
+of the living multitude. The bay and its shores sparkled in the early
+sunlight; the sultry, heated atmosphere of the city was most
+refreshingly replaced by the cool air from the salt sea. Diana breathed
+it in, filling her lungs with it.
+
+"How good this is!" she said. "Basil, I should think it was dreadful to
+live in such a place as that."
+
+"Makes less difference than you would think, when you once get
+accustomed to it."
+
+"O, do you think so! It seems to me there is nothing pleasant there to
+see or to hear."
+
+"Ay, you are a true wood-thrush," said her husband. "But there is
+plenty to do in a city, Diana; and that is the main thing."
+
+"So there is in the country."
+
+"I sometimes think I might do more,--reach more people, I mean,--if I
+were somewhere else. But yes, Di, I grant you, apart from that one
+consideration, there is no comparison. Green hills are a great deal
+better company than hot brick walls."
+
+"And how wonderful, how beautiful, this water is!"
+
+"The water is a new feature to you. Well, you will have plenty of it.
+Aunt Sutphen lives just on the edge of the shore. I am very sorry I
+cannot stay to see you domesticated. Do you mind it much, beginning
+here alone?"
+
+"O no."
+
+Diana did not mind that or anything else, in her content at having
+reached a safe harbour, a place where she would be both secure and
+free. Lesser things were of no account; and alas! the presence of her
+husband just now with her was no pleasure. Diana felt at this time,
+that if she were to live and keep her reason she must have breathing
+space. Above all things, she desired to be quite alone; to have leisure
+to think and pray, and review her ground and set up her defences. Basil
+could not help her; he was better out of sight. So, when he had put her
+into the little carriage that was in waiting at the landing, and with a
+last gesture of greeting turned back to the boat, while Diana's eyes
+filled with tears, she was, nevertheless, nothing but glad at heart.
+She gathered her baby closer in her arms, and sat back in the carriage
+and waited.
+
+It was only a short drive, and along the edge of the bay the whole
+distance. The smell of the salt water was strange and delicious. The
+morning was still cool. Now that she had left the boat behind her, or
+rather the boat had left her, the stillness began to be like that of
+Pleasant Valley; for the light wheels rolled softly over a smooth road.
+Then they stopped before a low, plain-looking cottage.
+
+It was low and plain, yet it was light and pleasant. Windows opening
+like doors upon the piazza, and the piazza running all round the house,
+and the pillars of the piazza wreathed thick with honeysuckles, some of
+them, and some with climbing roses. The breath of the salt air was
+smothered in perfumes. Through one of the open window-doors Diana went
+into a matted room, where everything gave her the instant impression of
+neatness and coolness and quiet, and a certain sweet summer freshness,
+which suited her exactly. There was no attempt at richness of
+furnishing. Yet the old lady who stood there waiting to receive her was
+a stately lady enough, in a spotless morning dress of white, dainty and
+ruffled, and a little close embroidered cap above her clustering grey
+curls. The two looked at each other.
+
+"So you're his wife!" said the elder lady. "I declare, you're handsomer
+than he is. Come in here, my dear; if you are as good as he is, you are
+welcome." She opened an inner door and led the way into a bedchamber
+adjoining, opening like the other room by window-doors upon the piazza,
+matted and cool and furnished in white. All this Diana took in with the
+first step into the room. But she answered Mrs. Sutphen's peculiar
+welcome.
+
+"Did you ever know anybody so good as he is, ma'am?"
+
+"Breakfast will be on table as soon as you are ready," Mrs. Sutphen
+went on without heeding her words. "It is half-past seven, and I always
+have it at seven. I waited for you, and now I want my cup of tea. How
+soon will you be ready?"
+
+"Immediately."
+
+"What will you do with the baby?"
+
+"I will lay her down. She is asleep."
+
+"You'll have to have somebody to look after her. Well, come then, my
+dear."
+
+Diana followed the old lady, who was half imperative and half
+impatient. She never forgot that hour in all her life, everything was
+so new and strange. The windows open towards the water, the fresh salt
+air coming in, the India matting under her feet, made her feel as if
+she had got into a new world. The dishes were also in part strange to
+her, and her only companion fully strange. The good cup of tea she
+received was almost the only familiar thing, for the very bread was
+like no bread she had ever seen before. Diana sipped her tea
+gratefully; all this novelty was the most welcome thing in the world to
+her overstrained nerves. She sipped her tea as in a dream; the old lady
+studied her with eyes wide awake and practical.
+
+"Where did Basil pick you up, my dear?"
+
+Diana started a little, looked up, and flushed.
+
+"Where did you come from?"
+
+"From the place where Mr. Masters has been settled these three or four
+years."
+
+"In the mountains! What sort of people have you got there? More of your
+sort?"
+
+"They are all of my sort," said Diana somewhat wonderingly.
+
+"Do you know what your sort is, my dear?"
+
+"I do not understand"--
+
+"I thought you did not. I'll change my question. What sort of work is
+Basil doing there?"
+
+"You know his profession?"--Diana said, not knowing much better either
+how to take this question.
+
+"Yes, yes. I know his profession; I ought to, for I wanted him to be a
+lawyer. But don't you know, my dear, there are all sorts of clergymen?
+There are some make sermons as other men make bricks; and some more
+like the way children blow soap-bubbles; all they care for is, how big
+they are, and how high they will fly, and how long they will last. And
+I have heard people preach," the old lady went on, "who seemed most
+like as if they were laying out a Chinese puzzle, and you had to look
+sharp to see where the pieces fitted. And some, again, preach sermons
+as if they were a magistrate reading the Riot Act, only they don't want
+the people to disperse by any means. What is Basil's way?"
+
+"He has more ways than all these," said Diana, who could not help
+smiling.
+
+"These among 'em?"
+
+"I think not."
+
+"Go on, then, and tell me. What's he like in the pulpit?"
+
+Diana considered how she should humour the old lady's wish.
+
+"Sometimes he is like a shepherd leading his flock to pasture," she
+began. "Sometimes he is like a lifeboat going out to pick up drowning
+people. Sometimes it is rather a surgeon in a hospital, going round to
+find out what is the matter with people and make them well. Sometimes
+he is just the messenger of the Lord Jesus Christ, and all his business
+is to deliver his message and get people to hear it."
+
+Mrs. Sutphen looked at Diana over the table, and evidently pricked up
+her ears; but Diana spoke quite simply, rather slowly; she was thinking
+how Basil had often seemed to her in his ministry, in and out of the
+pulpit.
+
+"My dear," said the old lady, "if your husband is like that, do you
+know you are married to quite a remarkable man?"
+
+"I thought as much a great while ago."
+
+"And what sort of a pastor's wife do you make? You are a very handsome
+woman to be a minister's wife."
+
+"Am I? Why should not a handsome woman be the wife of a minister?"
+
+"Why, she should, if she can make up her mind to it. Well, my dear, if
+you will have no more breakfast, perhaps you will like to go and rest.
+Do you enjoy bathing?"
+
+Diana did not take the bearing of the question.
+
+"I go into the water every morning," the old lady explained. "You had
+better do the same. It will strengthen you."
+
+"Into the water! You mean the salt water?"
+
+"Of course I mean the salt water. There isn't any fresh water to go
+into, and no good if there was."
+
+"I never tried salt water. I never saw salt water before."
+
+"Do you good," said the old lady. "Well, go and sleep, my dear. Basil
+says you want rest."
+
+But that way of taking it was not Diana's need, or purpose. She
+withdrew into her cool green-shaded room, and as the baby still slept,
+set open the blind doors which made that pleasant green shade, and sat
+down on the threshold to be quiet, and enjoy the view. The water was
+within a few rods of her window; nothing but a narrow strip of grass
+and a little picket fence intervening between the house and the sandy
+bit of beach. The waves were rolling in from the Narrows, which here
+were but a short distance to the eastward; and across the broad belt of
+waters she could see the low shore of Long Island on the other side.
+Diana put her head out of the door, and there, seven miles away to the
+west and north, she could see where a low, hovering, light smoke cloud
+told of the big city to which it owed its origin. Over the bay sails
+were flitting, not swiftly, for the air was only very gently stirring;
+but they were many, near and far, of different sizes and forms; and the
+mighty tide was rushing in with wonderful life and energy in its green
+waves. Diana's senses were like those of a person enchanted. She drew
+in the salt, lively air; she looked at the cool lights and shadows of
+the rushing water, over which here and there still hung bands of
+morning mist; she heard the lap of the waves upon the shore as they
+went by; and it was to her as if she had escaped from danger and
+perplexity into another world, where sorrow might be, indeed, but from
+which confusion and fear were banished.
+
+The baby slept on, as if she had been broken off her rest by the
+novelties and inconveniences of travelling, and were making up for lost
+time; and Diana sat on the threshold of her door and thought. The lull
+was inexpressibly sweet, after the storm that had tossed her hither. It
+gave her repose just to remember that Evan could not find her out--and
+that Basil would leave her alone. Yes, both thoughts came in for a
+share in the deep-drawn breaths of relief which from time to time wrung
+themselves from Diana's breast. She knew it; she could not help it; and
+she soon forgot her husband in thinking of her lover. It seemed to her
+she might allow herself that indulgence now; now when she had put a
+gulf between them which he could not bridge over, and she would not;
+now when she had brought a separation between them which must forever
+be final. For she would never see him again. Surely now she might think
+of him, and let fancy taste the sweet bitter drops that memory would
+distil for her. Diana went back to the old time and lived in it for
+hours, till the baby awoke and claimed her; and even then she went on
+with her dream. She dreamed all day.
+
+Next morning early, before she was awake, there came a little
+imperative tap at her door. Diana sprang up and opened it.
+
+"I am going to take my bath," said her hostess. "Here's a bathing
+dress--put it on and come along."
+
+"Now?" said Diana doubtfully.
+
+"Why, of course now! Now's the time. Nobody'll see you, child; and if
+they do, it won't matter. Hundreds would see you if you were at Long
+Branch or Newport. Come along; you want bracing."
+
+I wonder if I do, thought Diana, as she clothed herself in the loose
+gown of brown mohair; then slipped out after her hostess. If she did,
+she immediately confessed to herself, this was the thing to give it.
+The sun was not yet up; the morning air crisp and fresh and delicious;
+the water rolling gently in from the Narrows again, in a mighty tide,
+but with no wind, so sending up only little waves to the beach;
+however, they looked somewhat formidable to Diana.
+
+"How far do you go in?" she asked.
+
+"As far as I can. I can't swim, child, so I keep to shore. Come after
+me, here!"--
+
+And she seized Diana's hand and marched in ahead of her, and marched
+on, till Diana would have stopped, but the old lady's hand pulled her
+along.
+
+It was never to be forgotten, that first taste of salt water. When they
+were in the flood up to their necks, her companion made her duck her
+head under; it filled Diana's mouth and eyes at the first gasp with
+salt water, but what a new freshness of life seemed at the same time to
+come into her! How her brain cleared, and her very heart seemed to grow
+strong, and her eyesight true in that lavatory! She came out of the
+water for the moment almost gay, and made her toilette with a vigour
+and energy she had not brought to it in many a day. Breakfast was
+better to her, and the old lady was contented with what she said about
+it.
+
+Yet Diana sat and dreamed again all day after that, watching the
+rolling tide of waters, and letting her thoughts run on in as
+uninterrupted a flow. She dreamed only about Evan; she went over old
+times and new, old impressions and new; she recalled words and looks
+and tones and gestures, of long ago and lately; at Pleasant Valley she
+had not dared; here she thought it was safe, and she might take the
+indulgence. She recalled all Evan's looks. How he had improved! More
+stately, more manly, more confident (could that be?), more graceful;
+with the air of command replacing a comparative repression of manner
+(only comparative), even as the full, thick, curly moustache replaced a
+velvety dark line which Diana well remembered. As he had been then, she
+had fancied him perfect; as he was now, he was to the eye far finer
+yet. Basil could not compare with him. Ah, why did fancy torture her by
+ever bringing forward the comparison! Basil never pretended to wear a
+moustache, and the features of his face were not so regular, and his
+eye was not so brilliant, and the indescribable air of authority was
+not there, nor the regulated grace of movement. True, Basil could sit a
+horse, and ride him, she knew, as well as anybody; and true, Basil's
+face had a high grave sweetness which was utterly unknown to the
+countenance of that other; and it was also true, that if Mr. Masters
+wore no air of command, he knew what the thing meant, especially
+command over himself. And there the comparison failed for Evan. In the
+contrast, Diana, down deep in the bottom of her heart, was not
+satisfied with him, not pleased, not contented. He might know how to
+give orders to his company, he had not left off himself being under
+orders; he might be strong to enforce discipline among his men, but
+alas! alas! he had left the reins loose upon the neck of his passions.
+Basil never did that, never. Basil never would in the like
+circumstances have sought a weak gratification at her expense. That was
+the word; _weak_. Evan had been selfishly weak. Basil was always, so
+far as she had known him, unselfishly strong. And yet, and yet!--she
+loved the weak one; although it pained her that he should have been
+weak.
+
+Days went by. Diana lived in dreams.
+
+"What is the matter with you?" her old friend asked her abruptly one
+evening.
+
+"Nothing, I think," said Diana, looking up from her sewing and
+answering in some surprise.
+
+"Nothing the matter! Then what did you come here for?"
+
+"I thought"--Diana hesitated in confusion for the moment--"my husband
+agreed with me in thinking, that it would be good for me to be away
+from home for awhile."
+
+"Wanted change, eh?" Mrs. Sutphen said dryly.
+
+Diana did not know what to add to her words.
+
+"Change and salt air"--the old lady went on.
+
+"Not salt air particularly," Diana answered, feeling that she must
+answer. "I did not think of salt air. Though no change could have been
+so good for me."
+
+"_Has_ it been good for you?"
+
+"I have enjoyed it more than I can tell," Diana said, looking up again.
+
+"Yes, yes; but that isn't the thing. I know you enjoy it. But do you
+think it is making you fat?"
+
+"I don't need that," said Diana, smiling. "I am fat enough."
+
+"You won't be, if you go on losing as you have done since you came. Now
+I agree with you that I don't think that is Clifton air. What is it?"
+
+Diana could not reply. She was startled and troubled. She knew the fact
+was true.
+
+"Basil won't like it if I let this go on; and I don't mean it shall. Is
+anything the matter between you and him?"
+
+"What do you mean?" Diana asked, to gain time.
+
+"You know what I mean. I spoke plain. Have you and he had any sort of a
+quarrel or disagreement?"
+
+"Certainly not!"
+
+"Certainly _not?_--then why aren't you happy?"
+
+"Why do you ask me?" said Diana. "Why should you question my being
+happy?"
+
+"I've got eyes, child; inconvenient things, for they see. You look and
+act like a marble woman; only that you are not cold, and that you move
+about. Now, that isn't your nature. What spell has come over you?"
+
+"You know, Mrs. Sutphen," Diana answered with calmness, "there are many
+things that come up in the world to try one and trouble one; things one
+cannot help, and that one must bear."
+
+"I know that, as well as you do. But a woman with the husband you have
+got, ought never to be petrified by anything that comes to her. In the
+first place, she has no cause; and in the second place, she has no
+right."
+
+There was such an instant assent of Diana's inner nature to at least
+the latter of these assertions, that after a minute or two's pause she
+said very simply--
+
+"Thank you, That is true."
+
+"He's rather fond of you, isn't he?" the old lady asked with a
+well-pleased look at her beautiful neighbour.
+
+"Yes. Too much," said Diana, sighing.
+
+"Can't be too much, as I see, if only you are equally fond of him; it
+is bad to have inequality in that matter. But, my dear, whatever you
+do, don't turn into marble. There's fire at the heart of the earth,
+folks say, but it don't do us much good in winter."
+
+With this oracular statement Mrs. Sutphen closed her lecture. She had
+said enough. Diana spent half that night and all the next day in a
+quite new set of meditations.
+
+And more days than one. She waked up to see what she had been doing.
+What business had she to be thinking of Evan, when she was Basil's
+wife?--what right to, be even only in imagination, spending her life
+with him? She knew, now that she was called to look at it, that Mrs.
+Sutphen had spoken true, and that a process had been going on in
+herself which might well be likened to the process of petrifying.
+Everything had been losing taste and colour lately; even her baby was
+not the delight she had been formerly. Her mind had been warped from
+its healthy condition, and was growing morbid. Conscience roused up now
+fully, and bade Diana stop short where she was and take another course.
+But there she was met by a difficulty; one that many a woman has had to
+meet, and that few have ever overcome. To take another course, meant
+that she should cease thinking of Evan,--cease thinking of him even at
+all; for it was one of those things which you cannot do _a little_. She
+tried it; and she found it to be impossible. Everything and anything
+would set her upon the track of thinking of him; everything led to him;
+everything was bound up with him, either by sympathy or contrast. She
+found that she must think of Evan, because she loved him. She said that
+to herself, and pleaded it. Then do not love him! was the instant sharp
+answer of conscience. And Diana saw a battle set in array.
+
+That day, the day when she got to this point, was one of those which
+even in summer one may know on the sea-shore. It was grey and cool, and
+a violent easterly wind was driving the waters in from the Narrows. The
+moment Diana got a sight of those battle forces opposed to each other
+in her spiritual nature, she threw on bonnet and shawl and went out.
+Baby was sleeping, and she left her safely in charge of a good-tempered
+servant who asked no better.
+
+She went along the shore in the face of the wind, meeting, breasting,
+overcoming it, though with the exertion of determined strength and
+energy. The gale was rather fierce. It was a sight to see, the rush of
+that tide of waters, mighty, sweeping, rolling and tumbling in from the
+great sea, restless, endless. Diana did not stop to draw comparisons,
+yet I think she felt them even then; the wild accord of the unchained
+forces without and the unchained forces within. Who could stay them,
+the one or the other? "That is Nature," said Diana to herself; "and
+this is Nature; 'the troubled sea that cannot rest.' But that is spoken
+of the wicked; am I wicked because I cannot help what I _cannot_ help?
+As well put out my tiny hand and sweep back that stormy flood of water
+to the ocean where it comes from!--as hopefully, as practicably. What
+am I, _I_--but a chip or a shingle tossed and chased along on the power
+of the waves? The wicked are like the troubled sea when it cannot rest;
+that is it, it _cannot_ rest. Look at it, and think of bidding it rest!"
+
+She had walked a long way in the teeth of the storm, and yet, unwilling
+even to turn her face homewards with her mind still at war, she had
+crouched down to rest under the lee of an old shed which stood near the
+edge of the water. Diana drew her shawl closer round her and watched
+the wild play of the waves, which grew wilder every moment; taking a
+sort of gloomy comfort in the thought that they were not more
+irresistible or unopposable than the tempest in her own heart. Then
+came in the thought--it stole in--"There was One who could bid it be
+still--and the sea heard him and was quiet. If he could do that, could
+he not still this other storm? A worse storm, yes; but could not the
+hand that did one thing do the other?" Diana knew on the instant that
+it could; but with that came another consciousness--that she wished it
+could not. She did not want the storm laid. Better the raging forces
+than the calm that would follow the death of her love for Evan
+Knowlton. "But it could never die!" was the impatient objection of her
+heart; and then came the whisper of conscience, "It ought; you know it
+ought; and the Lord never bade you do a thing he would not help you to
+do, or do for you if you are willing." And she remembered: "If ye shall
+say to this mountain, Be thou removed."--Could she be willing? that was
+all. Would she say it?
+
+The Lord said, there are some sorts of devils that are only cast out by
+prayer and fasting; and I suppose that means, by very great and
+determinate laying hold of the offered strength and fullest surrender
+to all its dispositions.
+
+This was a battle before which Waterloo sinks to a play of
+fire-crackers and Gravelotte to a great wrestling match. There was
+struggle on those fields, and bitter determination, and death faced and
+death met; and yet the combatants there never went to the front with
+the agony which Diana's fight cost her. And if anybody thinks I am
+extravagant, I will remind him on what authority we have it, that "he
+that ruleth his spirit is greater than he that taketh a city." Let no
+one suppose the battle in Diana's instance was soon fought and over. It
+was death to give up Evan; not the death of the body, which lived on
+and was strong though she grew visibly thin, but the death of the will;
+and that is a death harder by far than the other. Diana was in the
+struggle of that fight for many a day, and, as I said, growing thin
+under it. She was not willing; if she could be delivered from this
+passion which was like her life, she was not willing to be delivered.
+Yet duty was plain; conscience was inexorable. Diana struggled and
+fought till she could fight no longer, and then she dragged herself as
+it were to the feet of the Stiller of the waves, with the cry of the
+Syro-Phenician woman on her lips and in her heart: "Lord, help me!" But
+the help, Diana knew by this time, meant that he should do all the work
+himself, not come in aid of her efforts, which were like ropes of straw
+in a flame. Let no one think, either, that the first struggle to have
+faith was faith itself, or that the first endeavour to submit was
+surrender. There is a wide difference, and often a wide distance. But
+there came a time--it was slow in coming, but it came--when like a
+wearied child Diana ceased from her own efforts, and like a helpless
+child threw herself upon strength that she knew. And then the work was
+done.
+
+Let no one say, either, that what I have described is an impossibility.
+"If ye have faith,"--the Master said,--"nothing shall be impossible to
+you." And nothing is. "He is a Rock; his work is perfect." And he who
+overcame all our enemies for us can overcome them in us. They are
+conquered foes. Only, the Lord will not do the work for those who are
+trusting in themselves.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+
+
+BUDS AND BLOSSOMS.
+
+
+
+It was the end of September. Nearing a time of storms again in the air
+and on the sea; but an absolute calm had settled down upon Diana. Not
+at all the calm of death; for after death, in this warfare, comes not
+only victory, but new life. It was very strange, even to herself. She
+had ceased to think of Captain Knowlton; if she thought of him, it was
+with the recognition that his power over her was gone. She felt like a
+person delivered from helpless bondage. There was some lameness, there
+were some bruises yet from the fight gone by; but Diana was every day
+recovering from these, and elasticity and warmth were coming back to
+the members that had been but lately rigid and cold. The sun shone
+again for her, and the sky was blue, and the arch of it grew every day
+loftier and brighter to her sense. At first coming to Clifton, Diana
+had perceived the beauties and novelties of her new surroundings; now
+she began to enjoy them. The salt air was delicious; the light morning
+mist over the bay, as she saw it when she went to take her morning
+bath, held a whole day of sunlit promise within its mysterious folds;
+the soft low hum of the distant city, which she could hear when the
+waves were still, made the solitude and the freshness and the purity of
+the island seem doubly rare and sweet. And her baby began to be now to
+Diana the most wonderful of delights; more than ever it had been at any
+previous time.
+
+All this while she had had letters from Basil; not very long letters,
+such as a man can write to a woman whose whole sympathy he knows he
+has; but good letters, such as a man can write to a woman to whom his
+own heart and soul have given all they have. Not that he ever spoke of
+that fact, or alluded to it. Basil was no maudlin, and no fool to ask
+for a gift which cannot be yielded by an effort of will; and besides,
+he had never entirely lost hope; so that, though things were dark
+enough for him certainly, he could write manly, strong, sensible
+letters, which, in their very lack of all allusion to his own feelings,
+spoke whole volumes to the woman who knew him and could interpret them.
+The thought of him grieved her; it was getting to be now the only grief
+she had. Her own letters to him were brief and rare. Diana had a
+nervous fear of letting the Clifton postmark be seen on a letter of
+hers at home, knowing what sort of play sometimes went on in the
+Pleasant Valley post office; so she never sent a letter except when she
+had a chance to despatch it from New York. These epistles were very
+abstract; they spoke of the baby, told of Mrs. Sutphen, gave details of
+things seen and experienced; but of Diana's inner life, the fight and
+the victory, not a whit. She could not write about them to Basil; for,
+glad as he would be of what she could tell him, she could not say
+enough. In getting deliverance from a love it was wrong to indulge, in
+becoming able to forget Evan, she had not thereby come nearer to her
+husband, or in the least fonder of thinking of him; and so Diana shrank
+from the whole subject when she found herself with pen in hand and
+paper before her.
+
+When September was gone and October had begun its course, a letter came
+from Basil in which he desired to know about Diana's plans. There were
+no hindrances any longer in the way of her coming home, he told her.
+Diana had known that such a notification would come, must come, and yet
+it gave her an unwelcome start. Mrs. Sutphen had handed it to her as
+they came in from their morning dip in the salt water; the coachman had
+brought it late last evening from the post office, she said. Diana had
+dressed before reading it; and when she had read it, she sat down upon
+the threshold of her glass door to think and examine herself.
+
+It was October, yet still and mild as June. Haze lay lingering about
+the horizon, softened the shore of Long Island, hid with a thick
+curtain the place of the busy city, the roar of which Diana could
+plainly enough hear in the stillness, a strange, indistinct,
+mysterious, significant murmur of distant unrest. All before and around
+her was rest; the flowing waters were too quiet to-day to suggest
+anything disquieting; only life, without which rest is nought. The air
+was inexpressibly sweet and fresh; the young light of the day dancing
+as it were upon every cloud edge and sail edge, in jocund triumph
+beginning the work which the day would see done. Diana sat down and
+looked out into it all, and tried to hold communion with herself. She
+was sorry to leave this place. Yes, why not? She was sorry to exchange
+her present life for the old one. Quiet and solitary it had been, this
+life at Clifton, for Mrs. Sutphen scarcely made her feel less alone
+with her than without her; and she had held herself back from society.
+Quiet and solitary, and lately healing; and Pleasant Valley was full of
+painful memories and associations, her mother, and--her husband. Diana
+felt as if she could have welcomed everything else, if only Basil had
+not been there. The sight of the lovely bay with its misty shores and
+its springing light hurt her at last, because she must leave it; she
+sank her face in her hands and began to call herself to account. Duty
+was waiting before her; was she not willing to take it up? She had
+surrendered her will utterly to God in the matter of her love to Evan,
+and she had been delivered from the torture and the bondage of it;
+quite delivered; she could bear to live without Evan now, she could
+bear to live without thinking of him; he would always be in a certain
+sense dear, but the spell of passion was broken for ever. That did not
+make her love her husband. No; but would not the same strength that had
+freed her from temptation on the one hand, help her to go forward and
+do her duty on the other? And in love and gratitude for the deliverance
+vouchsafed her, should she not do it? "I will do it, if I die!" was her
+inward conclusion. "And I shall not die, but by the Lord's help I shall
+do it."
+
+So she wrote to her husband that she was ready, and he came to fetch
+her.
+
+The Pleasant Valley maples were flaunting in orange and crimson when
+the home journey was made. The fairest month of the year was in the
+prime of its beauty; the air had that wonderful clearness and calm
+which bids the spirit of the beholder be still and be glad, saying that
+there is peace and victory somewhere, and rest, when the harvest of
+life is gathered. Diana felt the speech, but thought nevertheless that
+for _her_, peace and victory were a good way off. She believed they
+would come, when life was done; the present thing was to live, and
+carry the burden and do the work. The great elms hung still green and
+sheltering over the lean-to door. The house was enlarged and improved;
+and greatly beautified with a coat of paint. Diana saw it all; and she
+saw the marvellous beauty of the meadows and their bordering hills; she
+felt as if she were coming to her prison and place of hard labour.
+
+"How do you like the looks of things?" her husband asked.
+
+"Nice as can be."
+
+"You like it?"
+
+"Very much. I am glad you did not make the house white."
+
+"I remembered you said it ought to be brown."
+
+"But would you have liked it white?"
+
+"I would have liked it no way but your way," he said with a slight
+smile and look at her, which Diana could not answer, and which cut her
+sharply. She had noticed, she thought, that Basil was more sober than
+he used to be. She thought she knew why; and she wanted to tell him
+part of what had gone on in her mind of late, and how free she was of
+the feelings he supposed were troubling her; but a great shyness of the
+subject had seized Diana. She was afraid to broach it at all, lest
+going on from one thing to another, Basil might ask a question she
+could not answer. She was very sorry for him, so much that she almost
+forgot to be sorry for herself, as she went into the house.
+
+Mrs. Flandin was sitting with Mrs. Starling in the lean-to kitchen.
+
+"So you made up your mind to come home," was her mother's greeting. "I
+almost wonder you did."
+
+"If you knew how good the salt water was to me, you might wonder,"
+Diana answered cheerfully.
+
+"Well, I never could see what there was in salt water!" said Mrs.
+Flandin, "that folks should be so crazy to go into it! If I was
+drownin', 'seems to me I'd rather have my mouth full o' sun'thin'
+sweet."
+
+"But I was not drowning," said Diana.
+
+"Well, I want to know what you've got by stayin' away from your place
+all summer"--her mother went on.
+
+"Her place was there," said the minister, who followed Diana in.
+
+"Now, dominie," said Mrs. Flandin, "you say that jes' 'cause she's your
+wife. Hain't her place been empty all these months? Where is a wife's
+place? I should like to hear you say."
+
+"Don't you think it is where her husband wants her to be?"
+
+"And you wanted her to be away from you down there? Do you mean that?"
+
+"If he had not, I should not have gone, Mrs. Flandin," Diana said, and
+with a smile.
+
+"Well now, du tell! what good did salt water do ye? The minister said
+you was gone to salt water somewheres."
+
+"It did me more good than I could ever make you understand."
+
+"I don't believe it!" said Mrs. Starling harshly. "You mean, it was a
+clever thing to play lady and sit with your hands before you all
+summer. It was good there was somebody at home to do the work."
+
+"Not your work, Di," said her husband good humouredly; "nor my work.
+_I_ did that. Come along and see what I have done."
+
+He drew her off, into the little front hall or entry; from there,
+through a side door into the new part of the building. There was a
+roomy, cool, bright room, lined with the minister's books; curtained
+and furnished, not expensively, indeed, yet with a thorough air of
+comfort. Taking the baby from her arms, Basil led the way from this
+room, up a short stairway, to chambers above which were charmingly
+neat, light, and cheerful, all in order; everything was done,
+everything was there that ought to be there. He laid the sleeping child
+down in its crib, and turned to his wife with a serious face.
+
+"How will you stand it, Diana?"
+
+"Basil, I was just thinking, how will you?"
+
+"We can do what ought to be done," said he, looking into her face.
+
+"I know you can. I think I can too--in this. And I think it is right to
+take care of mother. I am sure it is."
+
+"Diana, by the Lord's help we can do right in everything."
+
+"Yes, Basil; I know it!" she said, meeting his eyes with a steady look.
+
+He turned away, very grave, but with a deep ejaculation of
+thankfulness. Diana's eyes filled; but she, too, turned away. She could
+add no more. It was not words, but living, that must speak for her now.
+
+And it did--even that same evening. Mrs. Flandin would not go away; it
+was too good an opportunity of gathering information about various
+points on which the "town" had been curious and divided. She kept her
+place till after supper. But all she could see was a fair, quiet
+demeanour; an unruffled, beautiful face; and an unconscious dignity of
+carriage which was somewhat provokingly imposing. She saw that Diana
+was at home, and likely to be mistress in her own sphere; held in too
+much honour by her husband, and holding him in too much honour, for
+that a pin's point of malicious curiosity might find an entering place
+between them. She reported afterwards that the minister was a fool and
+his wife another, and so they fitted. Mrs. Starling was inclined to be
+of the same opinion.
+
+The two most nearly concerned knew better. _Fit_ they did not, though
+they were the only ones of all the world that knew it. While Diana had
+been away at Clifton, the minister had managed to make one of the
+company at Elmfield rather often, moved by various reasons. One effect,
+however, of this plan of action had been unfavourable to his own peace
+of mind. He saw Evan and came to know him; he _would_ know him, though
+the young man would much rather have kept aloof from contact with
+Diana's husband. Basil's simplicity of manner and straightforwardness
+were too much for him. And while an unwilling and enormous respect for
+the minister grew up in Captain Knowlton's mind, the minister on his
+part saw and felt, and perhaps exaggerated, the attractiveness of the
+young army officer. Basil was not at all given to self-depreciation; in
+fact, he did not think of himself enough for such a mischievous mental
+transaction; however, he perceived the grace of figure and bearing, the
+air of command and the beauty of feature, which he thought might well
+take a woman's eye. "My poor Diana!" he said to himself; "her fancy has
+caught the stamp of all this--and will hold it. Naturally. She is not a
+woman to like and unlike. What chance for me!"
+
+Which meditations, unwholesome as they were, did not prevent Basil's
+attaching himself to Captain Knowlton's society, and making a friend of
+him, in spite of both their selves, as it were. The captain's mental
+nature, he suspected and found, was by no means in order to correspond
+with his physical; and if a friend could help him, he would be that
+friend. And Basil did not see that the young officer's evident respect
+for himself, and succumbing to his friendly advances, were a very
+significant tribute to his own personal and other qualities. It was a
+little matter to him, indeed, such tribute, if he could not have it
+from his wife.
+
+He had everything else in her that a man's heart could desire! He saw
+that, soon after her return from Clifton. Diana's demeanour had been
+gracious and sweet before, always, although with a shadow upon it. Now
+the shadow was gone, or changed; he could not tell which. She was not
+gay-spirited, as he had once known her; but she went about her house
+with a gentle grace which never failed. Mrs. Starling was at times
+exceedingly trying and irritating. Diana met and received it all as
+blandly as she would give her face to the west wind; at the same time,
+no rough wind could move her from the way of her duty. Mrs. Starling
+was able neither to provoke her nor prevail with her. She was the
+sweetest of ruling spirits within her house; without it, she was the
+most indefatigable and tender of fellow-workers to her husband. Tender,
+not to him, that is, but to all those for whom he and she ministered. A
+nurse to the sick, a provider to the very poor, a counsellor to the
+vexed,--for such would come to her, especially among the younger
+women,--a comforter to those in trouble. Such a comforter! "Lips of
+healing," her husband said of her once; "wise, rare; sweet as honey,
+but with the savour of the wind blowing over wild thyme." If a little
+of that sweetness could have come to him! But while her life was full
+of observance for him, gentle and submissive as a child to every
+expressed wish of his, and watchful to meet his unexpressed wish, it
+was the grief of Diana's life that she did not love this man. In the
+reserve of her New England nature, I think what she felt for him was
+hidden even from herself.
+
+That is, I mean, as days and months went on. At Diana's first coming
+home from Clifton, no doubt her opinion of her own feelings, and
+Basil's opinion of them, was correct. If a change came, it came so
+imperceptibly that nobody knew it.
+
+Diana's beauty at this time had taken a new phasis. It had lost the
+marble rigidity and calm impassiveness which had characterized it
+during all the time of her married life hitherto; and it had not
+regained the careless lightness of the days before she knew Evan. It
+was something lovelier than either; so lovely that Basil wondered, and
+Mrs. Starling sometimes stared, and every lip "in town" came to have
+nothing but utterances of respect, more often utterances of devotion,
+for the minister's wife,--I am afraid I cannot give you a just
+impression of it. For Diana's face had come curiously near the
+expression on the face of her own little child. Innocent, tender,
+pure,--something like that. Grave, but with no clouds at all; strong
+and purposeful, yet with an utter absence of self-will or
+self-consciousness. It had always been, to a certain degree, innocent
+and pure, but that was negative; and this was positive,--the refined
+gold that had been through the fire. And no baby's face is sweeter than
+Diana's was now, all blossoming as it were with love and humility. If
+her husband had loved her before, the feeling of longing and despair
+that came over him when he looked at this rarefied beauty would be hard
+to tell. He had ruined her life, he reproached himself; and she was
+lost to him for ever. Yet, as I said, though Diana's face was grave, it
+was a gravity wholly without clouds; the gravity of the summer dawn,
+when the stars are shining and the light in the East tells of the
+coming day.
+
+But mental changes work slowly and insensibly ofttimes; and day after
+day and week after week went by, each with its fulness of business and
+cares; and no one in the little family knew exactly what forces were
+silently busy. So a year rolled round, and another year began its
+course, and ran it; and June came for the second time since Diana had
+returned from the seaside. Elmfield in all this time had not been
+revisited by its owners.
+
+June had come again. Windows were open, and the breath of roses filled
+the minister's study; for Diana had developed lately a passion for
+flowers and for gardening, and her husband had given her with full
+hands all she wanted, and much more. Mrs. Starling had grumbled and
+been very sarcastic about it. However, Basil had ordered in plants and
+seeds and tools and books of instruction; he had become instructor
+himself; and the result was, the parsonage, as people began to call it,
+was encompassed with a little wilderness of floral beauty which was
+growing to be the wonder of Pleasant Valley. "It will do them good!"
+the minister said, when Diana called his attention to the fact that the
+country farmers passing by were falling into the habit of reining in
+their horses and stopping for a good long look. For instead of the
+patch of marigolds and hollyhocks in front of the house, all the wing
+inhabited by the minister and his family was surrounded with flowers.
+Roses bloomed in the beds and out of the grass, and climbed up on the
+walls of the house; white Annunciation lilies shone like stars here and
+there; whole beds of heliotrope were preparing their perfume; geraniums
+held up their elegant heads of every colour; verbenas and mignonette
+and honeysuckle and red lilies and yellow lilies and hardy gladiolus
+were either just beginning or in full beauty; with many more, too many
+to tell; and the old-fashioned guelder rose had shaken out its white
+balls of snow, and one or two laburnums were hung thick with their
+clusters of "dropping gold." The garden was growing large, and, as I
+said, become a wilderness of beauty. Nevertheless the roses kept their
+own, and this afternoon the breath of them, rising above all the other
+sweet breaths that were abroad, came in and filled the minister's
+study. Diana was there alone sitting by one of the open windows, busy
+with some work; not so busy but that she smelt the roses, and felt the
+glory of light and colour that was outside, and heard the hum of bees
+and the twitter of birds and the soft indistinguishable chirrup of
+insects, which filled the air. Diana sewed on, till another slight
+sound mingled with those--the tread of a foot on the gravel walk down
+below; then she lifted her head suddenly, and with that her hands and
+her work fell into her lap. It was long past mid-afternoon, and the
+lovely slant light striking over the roses and coming through the crown
+of a young elm, fell upon Basil, who was slowly sauntering along the
+garden walk with his little girl in his arms. Very slowly, and often
+standing still to exchange love passages and indulge mutual admiration
+with her. They were partly talking of the flowers, Diana could see; but
+her own eyes had no vision but for those two, the baby and the baby's
+father. One little fair fat arm was round Basil's neck, the other tiny
+hand was sometimes stretched out towards the lilies or the laburnums in
+critical or delighted notice-taking, the word accompaniment to which
+Diana could not hear but could well guess; at other times it was
+brought round ecstatically to join its companion round her father's
+neck, or lifted to his face with fingers of caressing, or thrust in
+among the locks of his hair, which last seemed to be a favourite
+pleasure. Basil would stand still at such times and talk to her, or
+wait, Diana knew with just what a smile in his eyes, to take the soft
+touches and return them. Diana's work was forgotten, and her eyes were
+riveted; why did the scene in the garden give her such pain? She would
+have said, if she had been asked, that it was self-reproach and sorrow
+for the inevitable. How came it that she held not as near a place to
+Basil as her child did? She ought, but it was not so. She thought, she
+wished she loved him! She ought to be as free to put her hand on the
+soft curls of Basil's hair as her baby was, but they stood too far
+apart from each other, and she would as soon have dared anything. And
+Basil never looked at _her_ so now-a-days; he had found out how she
+felt, and knew she did not care for his looks; and kind, and gentle,
+and unselfish as he was, yes, and strong in self-command and self
+renunciation, he had resigned his life-hope and left her to her
+life-sorrow. Yet Diana knew, with every smile and kiss to the little
+one, what a cry of Basil's heart went out towards the child's mother.
+Only, he would never give that cry utterance again. "What can I do?"
+thought Diana. "I cannot bear it. And he thinks I am a great deal more
+unhappy than I am. Unhappy?--I am not unhappy--if only _he_ were not
+unhappy."
+
+She could not explain her feelings to herself, she had no notion that
+she was jealous of her own child; but the pain bit her, and she could
+not endure to sit up there at the window and look on. Rising hastily,
+she dropped her work out of her hand, and was about to go down into the
+garden to join them, when another glance showed her that Basil had
+turned and was coming back into the house. Diana listened to them as
+they mounted the stairs, Basil's feet and the baby's voice sounding
+together, with a curious unrest at her heart, and her eyes met the pair
+eagerly as they entered the room. From what impulse she could not have
+told, she advanced to meet them, and stretched out her hands to take
+the child, which, however, with a little confident cry of delight,
+turned from her and clasped both little arms again round her father's
+neck. Basil smiled; Diana tried to follow suit.
+
+"She would rather be with you than with me," she remarked, however.
+
+"I wonder at her bad taste!" said Basil. But he turned his face to the
+baby, and laid it gently against her soft cheek.
+
+"It is because you are stronger," Diana went in.
+
+"Is it?"
+
+"That is one thing. You may notice children always like strong arms."
+
+"Her mother's arms are not weak."
+
+"No--but I am not so strong as you, Basil, bodily or mentally. And I
+think that is more yet--mental strength, I mean. Children recognise
+that, and love to rest on it."
+
+"You do not think such discrimination is confined to children?" said
+Basil, with a dry, quiet humourousness at which Diana could not help
+smiling, though she felt quite as much like a very different
+demonstration. She watched the two, as Basil walked on to his
+study-table and sat down, with the child on his knee; she saw the
+upturned eye of love with which the little one regarded him as he did
+this, and then how, with a long breath of satisfaction, she settled
+herself in her place, smoothed down her frock, and laid the little
+hands contentedly together in her lap. Basil drew his portfolio towards
+him and began to write a letter. Diana went to her work again in the
+window, feeling restless. She felt she must say something more, and in
+a different key, and as she worked she watched the two at the table.
+This was not the way things ought to be. Her husband must be told at
+least something of the change that had taken place in her; he ought to
+know that she was no longer miserable; he would be glad to know that.
+Diana thought he might have seen it without her telling; but if he did
+not, then she must speak. He had a right to so much comfort as she
+could give him, and he ought to be told that she was not now wishing to
+be in another presence and society than his. If she could tell him
+without his thinking too much--she watched till the letter was written
+and he was folding it up. And then Diana's tongue hesitated
+unaccountably.
+
+"Basil," she began, obliging herself to speak,--"I can smell the roses
+again."
+
+He looked up instantly with keen eyes.
+
+"You know--there was a long while--a long while--in which I could not
+feel that anything was sweet."
+
+"And now?"--
+
+"Now I can. I knew you ought to know. You would be glad. I am like a
+person who has been in a brain fever--or dead--and awaked to life and
+soundness again. You cannot think what it is to me to see the sky."
+Diana's eyes filled.
+
+"What did you use to see?"
+
+"The vault of my prison. What signified whether it were blue or brazen?
+But now"--
+
+"Well?--Now, Diana?"
+
+"I can see through."
+
+Perhaps this was not very intelligible, for manifestly it was not easy
+for Diana to explain herself; but Basil this time did not speak, and
+she presently began again.
+
+"I mean,--there is no prison vault, nor any prison any more; the walls
+that seemed to shut me in are dissolved, and I am free again."
+
+"And you can see through?"--Basil repeated.
+
+"Yes. Where my eyes were met by something harder than fate,--it is all
+broken up, and light, and clear, and I can see through."
+
+"I never used to think you were a fanciful woman," said the minister,
+eyeing her intently, "but this time I do not quite follow you, Di. I am
+afraid to take your words for all they may mean."
+
+"But you may."
+
+"What may I?"
+
+"They mean all I say."
+
+"I am sure of that," said he, smiling, though he looked anxious; "but,
+you see, there is the very point of my difficulty."
+
+"I mean, Basil, that I am out of my bondage,--which I thought never
+could be broken in this world."
+
+"Out of what bondage, my love?"
+
+Diana paused.
+
+"When I went down to Clifton, to Mrs. Sutphen's, do you know, I could
+think of nothing but--Evan Knowlton?"
+
+Diana's colour stirred, but she looked her husband steadily in the face.
+
+"I suspected it."
+
+"For a long time I could not, Basil. Night and day I could think of
+nothing else. Wasn't that bondage?"
+
+"Depends on how you take it," said the minister.
+
+"But it was _wrong_, Basil."
+
+"I found excuses for you, Diana."
+
+"Did you?" she said humbly. "I daresay you did. It is like you. But it
+was wrong, and I knew it was wrong, and I could not help it. Is not
+that bondage of the worst sort? O, you don't know, Basil! _you_ never
+knew such a fight between wrong and right; between your wish and your
+will. But for a long time I did not see that it was wrong; I thought it
+was of necessity."
+
+"How came your view to change?"
+
+"I don't know. All of a sudden. Something Mrs. Sutphen said one morning
+started my thoughts, and I saw at once that I was doing very wrong.
+Still it seemed as if I could not help it."
+
+"How did you help it?"
+
+"_I_ didn't, Basil. I fought and fought--O, what a fight! It seemed
+like death, and worse, to give up Evan; and to stop thinking of him
+meant, to give him up. I could not gain the victory. But don't you
+remember telling me often that Christ would do everything for me if I
+would trust him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Basil, he did. It wasn't I. At last I got utterly desperate, and I
+threw myself at his feet and claimed the promise. I was as helpless as
+I could be. And then Basil, presently,--I cannot tell how,--the work
+was done. The battle was fought and the victory was won, and I was
+free. And ever since I have been singing songs in my heart."
+
+Basil did not flush with pleasure. Diana thought he grew pale, rather;
+but he bowed his head upon the head of the little one on his lap with a
+deep low utterance of thanksgiving. She thought he would have shown his
+pleasure differently. She did not know how to go on.
+
+"It was not I, Basil"--she said after a pause.
+
+"It never is I or you," answered the minister without looking up. "It
+is always Christ if anything is done."
+
+"Since then, you see, I have felt like a freedwoman."
+
+"Which you are."
+
+"And then you cannot think what it was to me, and what it is, to smell
+the roses again. There were not many roses about Clifton at that time
+in September; but it was the bay, and the shores, and the vessels, and
+the sky. I seemed to have got new eyes, and everything was so
+beautiful."
+
+Basil repeated his ejaculation of thanksgiving, but he said nothing
+more, and Diana felt somehow disappointed. Did he not understand that
+she was free? He bowed his head close down upon the head of his little
+daughter, and was silent.
+
+"I knew you ought to know"--Diana repeated.
+
+"Thank you," he said.
+
+"And yet I couldn't tell you--though I knew you would be so glad for me
+and with me."
+
+"I am unutterably glad for you."
+
+And not with me? she said to herself. Why not? Isn't it enough, if I
+don't love anybody else? if I give him all I have to give? even though
+that be not what he gives to me. I wish Basil would be reasonable.
+
+It was certainly the first time it had ever occurred to her to make him
+the subject of such a wish. But Diana did not speak out her thought,
+and of course her husband did not answer it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+
+
+DAIRY AND PARISH WORK.
+
+
+
+According to her custom, Diana was up early the next morning, and down
+in her dairy while yet the sun was only just getting above the horizon.
+The dairy window stood open night and day; and the cool dewy freshness
+which was upon the roses and lilies outside was in there too among the
+pans of cream; the fragrance of those mingled with the different but
+very pure sweetness of these. Diana was skimming pan after pan; the
+thick yellow cream wrinkled up in rich folds under her skimmer; the
+skimming-shelf was just before the window, and outside of the window
+were the roses and honeysuckles. Diana's sleeves were rolled up above
+her elbows; her hands were disposing of their business with quick
+skill; yet now and then, even with a pan under her hand, she paused,
+leaned on the window sill, and looked out into the garden. She felt
+glad about something, and yet an unsatisfied query was in her heart;
+she was glad that she had at last told her husband how the spell was
+broken that had bound her to Evan and kept her apart from himself. "But
+he did not seem so glad as I expected!" Then she recalled the deep tone
+of his thanksgiving for her, and Diana's eyes took a yearning look
+which certainly saw no roses. "It was all for me; it was not for his
+own share; he did not think he had any share in it. He has a notion
+that I hate him; and I do not; I never did." It occurred to her here
+dimly that she had once felt a horror of him; and who would not rather
+have hatred than horror? She went on skimming her cream. What should
+she do? "I cannot speak about it again," she said to herself; "I cannot
+say any more to him. I cannot say--I don't know what I ought to say!
+but I wish he knew that I do not dislike him. He is keen enough; surely
+he will find it out."
+
+Pan after pan was set aside; the churn was filled; and Diana began to
+churn. Presently in came Mrs. Starling.
+
+"Hain't Josh brought the milk yet?"
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"It's time he did. That fellow's got a lazy streak in him somewhere."
+
+"It's only just half-past five, mother."
+
+"The butter ought to be come by now, I should think."--Mrs. Starling
+was passing in and out, setting the table in the lean-to kitchen. She
+would have no "help" in her dominions, so it was only in Diana's part
+of the house that the little servant officiated, whom Basil insisted
+upon keeping for his wife's ease and comfort and leisure. Diana herself
+attended as of old to her particular sphere, the dairy. "How do you
+know it's just half-past five?" her mother went on presently.
+
+"I looked."
+
+"Watches!" exclaimed Mrs. Starling with much disgust. "Your husband is
+ridiculous about you."
+
+But Diana could bear that.
+
+"In your dairy is a queer place to wear a watch."
+
+"Why, mother, it's for use, not for show."
+
+"Make me believe that! There's a good deal of show about it, anyhow,
+with such a chain hanging to it."
+
+"My husband gave it to me, you know, chain and all; I must wear it,"
+Diana said with a face as sweet as the roses.
+
+"Oh yes! your husband!" Mrs. Starling answered insultingly. "That will
+do to say to other people. Much you care what your husband does!"
+
+Diana got up here, left her churn, came up to her mother, and put a
+hand upon her arm. The action and air of the woman were so commanding,
+that even Mrs. Starling stood still with a certain involuntary
+deference. Diana's face and voice, however, were as clear and calm as
+they were commanding.
+
+"Mother,"--she said,--"you are mistaken. I care with all there is of
+me; heart and soul and life."
+
+Mrs. Starling's eye shrank away. "Since when?" she asked incredulously.
+
+"It does not matter since when. Whatever I have ever felt for other
+people, there is only one person in the world that I care for now; and
+that is, my husband."
+
+"You'd better tell him so," sneered Mrs. Starling. "When do you expect
+your butter is going to come, if you stand there?"
+
+"The butter is come," said Diana gently. She knew the sneer was meant
+to cover uneasy feeling; and if it had not, still she would not have
+resented it. She never resented anything now that was done to herself.
+In came Josh with the foaming pails. Diana's hands were in the butter,
+and her mother came to strain the milk.
+
+"There had ought to be three quarts more, that ain't here," she
+grumbled.
+
+"They ain't nowheres else, then," answered her factotum.
+
+"Josh, you don't strip the cows clean."
+
+"Who doos, then?" said Josh, grinning. "If 'tain't me, I don' know who
+'tis. That 'ere red heifer is losin' on her milk, though, Mis'
+Starlin'. She had ought to be fed sun'thin'."
+
+"Well, feed her, then," cried the mistress. "You know enough for that.
+You must keep up the milk this month, Josh; the grass is first-rate."
+
+Diana escaped away.
+
+A while later the family was assembled at breakfast.
+
+"Where's the child?" inquired Mrs. Starling.
+
+"I believe she is out in the garden, mother."
+
+"She oughtn't to be out before she has had her breakfast. 'Tain't good
+for her."
+
+"O, she has had her breakfast," said Diana. This was nothing new. Diana
+as well as her husband was glad to keep the little one from Mrs.
+Starling's table, where, unless they wanted her to be fed on pork and
+pickles and the like, it was difficult to have a harmonious meal. It
+was often difficult at any rate!
+
+"Who's with her?" Mrs. Starling went on.
+
+"Her father was with her. Now Prudence is looking after her."
+
+"Prudence! You want to keep a girl about as much as I want to keep a
+boat. You have no use for her."
+
+"She is useful just now," put in the Dominie.
+
+"Why can't Diana take care of her own child, and feed her when she
+takes her own meals?--as I used to do, and as everybody else does."
+
+"You think that is a convenient arrangement for all parties?" said the
+minister.
+
+"I hate to have danglers about!" said Mrs. Starling. "If there's
+anything I abominate, it's shiftlessness. I always found my ten fingers
+was servants enough for me; and what they couldn't do I could go
+without. And I don't like to see a daughter o' mine sit with her hands
+before her and livin' off other people's strength!"
+
+Diana laughed, a low, sweet laugh, that was enough to smooth away the
+wrinkles out of anybody's mood.
+
+"She has to do as she's told," said the minister sententiously.
+
+"That's because she's a fool."
+
+"Do you think so?" Basil answered with unchanged good humour.
+
+"_I_ never took my lessons from anybody."
+
+"Perhaps it would have been better if you had."
+
+"And you are spoiling her," Mrs. Starling added inconsistently.
+
+"I wonder you haven't."
+
+Mrs. Starling paused to consider what the minister meant. Before she
+came to speech again, he rose from the table.
+
+"Will you come to my study, Diana, after breakfast?"
+
+"Who's goin' to make my cake, then?" cried the mistress of the house.
+"Society's to meet here again this afternoon."
+
+"I'll make it, mother--a mountain cake, if you like," said Diana, also
+rising. "Basil won't want me all the morning." But she was eager to
+hear what he had to say to her, and hurried after him. He had seemed to
+her more than usually preoccupied.
+
+"I do think," she remarked as she reached the study, "the Society eat
+more cake than--their work is worth."
+
+"Heresy," said Basil, smiling.
+
+"They don't do much sewing, Basil."
+
+"They do something else. Never mind; let them come and have a good
+time. It won't hurt anybody much."
+
+Diana looked at him and smiled, and then waited anxiously. She longed
+for some words from Basil different from those he had spoken last
+night. Could he not see, that if her passion for Evan was broken, there
+was nothing left for him to look grave about? And ought he not to be
+jubilant over the confession she had just made to her mother? Diana was
+jubilant over it herself; she had set that matter clear at last. It is
+true, Basil had not heard the confession, but ought he not to divine
+it, when it was the truth? "If I do not just _love_ him," said Diana to
+herself, "at least he is the only one I care for in all the world. That
+would have made him glad once. And he don't look glad. Does he expect
+me to speak out and tell him all that?"
+
+Basil did not look as if he expected her to do any such thing. He was
+rather graver than usual, and did not at once say anything. Through the
+open window came the air, still damp with dew, laden with the scent of
+honeysuckle and roses, jocund with the shouts of birds; and for one
+instant Diana's thoughts swept back away to years ago, with a wondering
+recognition of the change in herself since _those_ June days. Then her
+husband began to speak.
+
+"I have had a call, Diana."
+
+"A call? You have a good many of them always, Basil. What was this?"
+
+"Of a different sort. A call for me--not a call upon me."
+
+"Well, there have always been calls _for_ you too, in plenty, ever
+since I have known you. What do you mean?"
+
+"This is a call to me to leave Pleasant Valley," said Basil, watching
+her, yet without seeming to do so. Diana looked bewildered.
+
+"To leave Pleasant Valley? Why? And where would you go, Basil?"
+
+"I am called, because the people want somebody and have pitched upon
+me. The place is a manufacturing town, not very far from Boston."
+
+"Are you going?"
+
+"That is the point upon which I desire to have your opinion."
+
+"But, Basil, the people here want you too."
+
+"Grant that."
+
+"Then what does it signify, whether other people want you?"
+
+"Insomuch as the 'other people' are more in numbers and far more needy
+in condition."
+
+"Want you more"--said Diana wistfully.
+
+"That is the plain English of it."
+
+"And will you go?"
+
+"What do you counsel?"
+
+"I do not know the people"--said Diana, breathless.
+
+"Nor I, as yet. The church that calls me is itself a rich little
+church, which has been accustomed, I am afraid, for some time, to a
+dead level in religion."
+
+"They must want you then, badly," said Diana. "That was how Pleasant
+Valley was five years ago."
+
+"But round the church lies on every hand the mill population, for whom
+hardly any one cares. They need not one man, but many. Nothing is done
+for them. They are almost heathen, in the midst of a land called
+Christian."
+
+"Then you will go?" said Diana, looking at Mr. Masters, and wishing
+that he would speak to her with a different expression of face. It was
+calm, sweet, and high, as always; but she knew he thought his wife was
+lost to him for ever. "And yet, I told him, last night!" she said to
+herself. Really, she was thinking more of that than of this other
+subject Basil had unfolded to her.
+
+"I do not know," he answered. "How would you like to run over there
+with me and take a look at the place? I have a very friendly invitation
+to come and bring you,--for the very purpose."
+
+"Run over? Why, it must be more than one day's journey?"
+
+"One runs by railway," said Basil simply. "What do you think? Will you
+go?"
+
+"O yes, indeed! if you will let me. And Rosy?"
+
+"We will go nowhere without Rosy."
+
+Diana made her cake like one in a dream.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+
+
+BABYLON.
+
+
+
+The journey to Mainbridge, the manufacturing town in question, took
+place within a few days. With eager cordiality the minister and his
+family were welcomed in the house of one of the chief men of the church
+and of the place, and made very much at home. It was a phasis of social
+life which Diana had hardly touched ever before. Wealth was abounding
+and superabounding; the house was large, the luxury of furnishing and
+fitting, of service and equipage, was on a scale she had never seen.
+Basil was amused to observe that she did not seem to see it now; she
+took it as a matter of course, and fitted in these new surroundings as
+though her life had been lived in them. The dress of the minister's
+wife was very plain, certainly; her muslins were not costly, and they
+were simply made; yet nobody in the room looked so much dressed as she.
+It was the dignity of her beauty that so attired her; it was beauty of
+mind and body both; and both made the grace of her movements and the
+grace of her quiet so exquisite as it was. Basil smiled--and sighed.
+
+But there was no doubt Diana saw the mill people. The minister and his
+wife were taken to see the mills, of course, divers and various--silk
+mills, cotton mills, iron mills. The machinery, and the work done by
+it, were fascinating to Diana and delightful; the mill people, men,
+women, and children, were more fascinating by far, though in a far
+different way. She watched them in the mills, she watched them when she
+met them in the street, going to or from work.
+
+"Do they go to church?" she asked once of Mr. Brandt, their
+entertainer. He shook his head.
+
+"They are tired with their week's work when Saturday night comes, and
+want to rest. Sunday was given for rest," he said, looking into Diana's
+face, which was a study to him.
+
+"Don't you think," she said, "rest of body is a poor thing without rest
+of mind?"
+
+"_My_ mind cannot rest unless my body does," he answered, laughing.
+
+"Take it the other way--don't you know what it is to have rest of mind
+make you forget weariness of body?"
+
+"No--nor you either," said he.
+
+"Then I am sorry for you; and I wish I could get at the mill people."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"To tell them what I know about it."
+
+"But you could not get at them, Mrs. Masters. They are in the mills
+from seven till seven--or eight, and come out tired and dirty; and
+Sunday, as I told you, they like to stay at home and rest and perhaps
+clean up."
+
+"If there is no help for that," said Diana, "there ought to be no
+mills."
+
+"And no manufacturers?"
+
+"What are silk and iron, to the bodies and souls of men? Basil, does
+that passage in the Revelation mean _that?_"
+
+"What passage?" said Mr. Brandt. "Here is a Bible, Mrs. Masters;
+perhaps you will be so good as to find the place. I am afraid from your
+expression, it is not a flattering passage for us millowners. What are
+the words you refer to?"
+
+I think he wanted to draw out Diana much more than the meaning of
+Scripture. She took the Bible a little doubtfully and glanced at Basil.
+He was smiling at her in a reassuring way, but did not at all offer to
+help. Diana's thoughts wandered somewhat, and she turned the leaves of
+the Bible unsuccessfully. "Where is it, Basil?"
+
+"You are thinking of the account of the destruction of Babylon. It is
+in the eighteenth chapter."
+
+"But Babylon!" said the host. "We have nothing to do with Babylon. That
+means Rome, doesn't it?"
+
+"Here's the chapter," said Diana. "No, it cannot mean Rome, Mr. Brandt;
+though Dean Stanley seems to assume that it does, in spite of the fact
+which he naively points out, that the description don't fit."
+
+"What then?"
+
+"Basil, won't you explain?"
+
+"It is merely an assumption of old Testament imagery," said Basil. "At
+a time when lineal Israel stood for the church of God upon earth,
+Babylon represented the head and culmination of the world-power, the
+church's deadly opponent and foe. Babylon in the Apocalypse but means
+that of which Nebuchadnezzar's old Babylon was the type."
+
+"And what is that?"
+
+"The power of this world, of which Satan is said to be the prince."
+
+"But what do you mean by the _world_, Mr. Masters? We cannot get out of
+the world--it is a pretty good world, too, I think, take it for all in
+all. People talk of being worldly and not worldly;--but they do not
+know what they are talking about."
+
+"Why not?" Diana asked.
+
+"Well, now, ask my wife," Mr. Brandt answered, laughing. "She thinks it
+is 'worldly' to have a cockade on your coachman's hat; it is not
+worldly to have the coachman, or the carriage, and she don't object to
+a coat with buttons. Then it is not worldly to give a party,--but it is
+worldly to dance; it is very worldly to play cards. There's
+hair-splitting somewhere, and my eyes are not sharp enough to see the
+lines."
+
+Diana sat with her book in her hand, looking up at the speaker; a look
+so fair and clear and grave that Mr. Brandt was again moved by
+curiosity, and tempted to try to make her speak.
+
+"Can _you_ make it out?" he said, smiling.
+
+"Why, yes!" said Diana; "but there is no hair-splitting. It is very
+simple. There are just two kingdoms in the world, Mr. Brandt; and
+whatever does not belong to the one, belongs to the other. Whatever is
+not for God, is for the world."
+
+"Then your definition of the 'world' is?"--
+
+"All that is not God's."
+
+"But I am not clear yet. I don't see how you draw the line. Take my
+mills, for example; they belong to this profane, work-a-day world; yet
+I must run them. Is that worldly?"
+
+"Yes, if you do not run them for God."
+
+Mr. Brandt stared a little.
+
+"I confess I do not see how that is to be done," he owned.
+
+"The business that you cannot do for God, you had better not do at
+all," said Diana gently.
+
+"But spinning cotton?"--
+
+"Spinning cotton, or anything else that employs men and makes money."
+
+"How?"
+
+"You can do it for God, cannot you?" said Diana in the same way. "You
+can employ the men and make the money for his sake, and in his service."
+
+"But that is coming pretty close," said the millowner. "Suppose I want
+a little of the money for myself and my family?"
+
+"I am speaking too much!" said Diana, with a lovely flush on her cheek,
+and looking up to her husband. "I wish you would take the word, Basil."
+
+"I hope Mr. Masters is going to be a little more merciful to the
+weaknesses of ordinary humanity," said Mr. Brandt, half lightly. "So
+tremendous a preacher have I never heard yet."
+
+Basil was silent, and Diana looked down at the volume in her hand.
+
+"Won't you go on, Mrs. Masters?" said her host. "What do you find for
+me there?"
+
+"I was looking for my quotation," said Diana; "I had not got it quite
+right."
+
+"How is it?"
+
+"Here is a list of the luxuries in which Babylon traded:--'The
+merchandise of gold, and silver, and precious stones, and of pearls,
+and fine linen, and purple, and silk, and scarlet, and all thyine wood,
+and all manner vessels of ivory, and all manner vessels of most
+precious wood, and of brass, and iron, and marble, and cinnamon, and
+odours, and ointments, and frankincense, and wine, and oil, and fine
+flour, and wheat, and beasts, and sheep, and horses, and chariots, _and
+slaves_, _and souls of men_.'"
+
+"Sounds for all the world like an inventory of the things in my house,"
+said Mr. Brandt. "Pray what of all that? Don't you like all those
+things?"
+
+"'--For in one hour so great riches is come to nought.'"
+
+"But what harm in these things, or most of them, Mrs. Masters?"
+
+Diana glanced up at Basil and did not answer. He answered.
+
+"No harm--so long as business and the fruits of business are kept
+within the line we were speaking of; so long as all is for God and to
+God. If it is not for him, it is for the 'world.'"
+
+"O my dear Mrs. Masters!" cried Mrs. Brandt, running in,--"here you
+are. I was looking for you.--I came to ask--shall I order the landau
+for five o'clock, to drive to the lake?"
+
+Diana was glad to have the conversation broken up. When the hour for
+the drive came, and she sank into the luxurious, satiny depths of the
+landau, her thoughts involuntarily recurred to it. The carriage was so
+very comfortable! It rolled smoothly along, over good roads, drawn by
+well-trotting horses; the motion was delightful. Diana's thoughts
+rolled on too. Suddenly Mr. Brandt leaned over towards her.
+
+"Is this carriage a 'worldly' indulgence, Mrs. Masters?"
+
+Diana started. "I don't know," she said.
+
+"Ah," said the other, laughing at her startled face,--"I am glad to see
+that even you may have a doubt on that subject. You cannot blame less
+etherealized persons, like my wife and me, if we go on contentedly,
+with no doubts."
+
+"But you mistake me,"--said Diana.
+
+"You said, you did not know."
+
+"Because I don't know you."
+
+"What has that to do with it?"
+
+"If I knew you well, Mr. Brandt, I should know whether this carriage is
+the Lord's or not."
+
+The expression of the gentleman's face upon this was hardly agreeable;
+he sat back in his seat and looked at the prospect; and so Diana tried
+to do, but for a time the landscape to her was indistinguishable. Her
+thoughts went back to the mills and the mill people; pale, apathetic,
+reserved, sometimes stern, they had struck her painfully as a set of
+people who did not own kindred with other classes of their
+fellow-creatures; apart, alone, without instruction, without sympathy;
+not enjoying this life, nor on the way to enjoy the next. The marks of
+poverty were on them too, abundantly. Diana's mind was too full of
+these people to allow her leisure for the beauties of nature; or if she
+felt these, to let her feel them without a great sense of contrast.
+Then she did not know whether she had spoken wisely. Alone in her room
+at night with Basil she began to talk about it. She wished that he
+would begin; but he did not, so she must.
+
+"Basil,--did I say too much to Mr. Brandt to-day?"
+
+"I guess not."
+
+Diana knew by the tone of these words that her husband was on this
+subject contented.
+
+"What do you think of the mill people?"
+
+"I am very curious to find out what impression they make on you."
+
+"Basil," said Diana, her voice trembling, "they break my heart!"
+
+"What's to be done in that case?"
+
+"I don't know. Nothing follows upon that. But how do you feel?"
+
+"Very much as if I would like to prove the realizing of that old
+prophecy--'To whom he was not spoken of, they shall see; and they that
+have not heard shall understand.'"
+
+"That is just how I feel, Basil. But they do not go to church, people
+say; how could you get at them?"
+
+"We could look them up at their own homes; we could arrange meetings
+for them that they would like; we could work ourselves into their
+affections, by degrees, and _then_ the door would be open for us to
+bring Christ in. We could give them help too, where help is needed."
+
+"_We_, Basil?"
+
+"Don't you feel as I do? You said so," he answered with a grave smile.
+
+"O, I do!" said Diana. "I cannot think of anything lovelier than to see
+those faces change with the knowledge of Christ."
+
+"Then you would be willing to leave our present field of work?"
+
+"It does not seem to want us as this does--not by many fold."
+
+"Would your mother leave Pleasant Valley?"
+
+"No."
+
+"How, then, Di, about you?
+
+"The first question is duty, Basil."
+
+"I think mine is to come here."
+
+"Then it must be mine," said Diana, with a sort of disappointment upon
+her that he should speak in that way.
+
+"And would it be your pleasure too?"
+
+"Why, certainly. Basil, I cannot _imagine_ pleasure to be apart from
+duty."
+
+"Thank you," he said gently. "And I thank God, who has brought you so
+far in your lesson-learning as to know that."
+
+Diana said no more. She was ready to cry, with the feeling that her
+husband thought himself to have so little to do with her pleasure.
+Tears, however, were not much in her way, and she did not shed any, but
+she speculated. _Had_ he really to do with her pleasure? It was
+different certainly once. She had craved to be at a distance from him;
+she could remember the time well; but the time was past. Was it
+reasonable to expect him to know that fact? He had thoroughly learned
+the bitter truth that her heart was not his, and could never be his;
+what should tell him that the conditions of things were changed. _Were_
+they changed? Diana was in great confusion. She began to think she did
+not know herself. She did not hate Mr. Masters any more; nay, she
+declared to herself she never had hated him; she always had liked him;
+only then she had loved Evan Knowlton, and now that was gone. She did
+not love anybody. There was no reason in the world why Mr. Masters
+should not be contented. "I think," said Diana to herself, "I give him
+enough of my heart to content him. I wonder what would content him? I
+do not care two straws for anybody else in all the world. He would say,
+if I told him that, he would say it is a negative proposition. Suppose
+I could go further"--and Diana's cheeks began to burn--"suppose I
+could, I could not possibly stand up and tell him so. I cannot. He
+ought to see it for himself. But he does not. He ought to be
+contented--I think he might be contented--with what I give him, if it
+isn't just"--
+
+Diana broke off with her thoughts very much disturbed. She thought she
+did not love her husband, but things were no longer clear; except that
+Basil's persistent ignorance of the fact that they had changed, chafed
+and distressed her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+
+
+THE PARTY.
+
+
+
+The morning of the next day was spent in still further visits to still
+more mills. Mr. Brandt was much struck with the direction his guests'
+attention seemed to take.
+
+"You are very fond of machinery," he remarked to Diana.
+
+"Yes--I don't know much about it," she answered.
+
+"Surely that is not true after these two or three days' work?"
+
+"I knew _nothing_ about it before. Yes, I do enjoy it, Mr. Brandt, with
+you and Mr. Masters to explain things to me; but it is the people that
+interest me most."
+
+"The people!"--
+
+"The mill hands?" Mrs. Brandt asked.
+
+"Yes; the mill hands."
+
+"What _can_ you find interesting in them? I am half afraid of them, for
+my part."
+
+"They look as if they wanted friends so much."
+
+"Friends?" repeated Mrs. Brandt. "I suppose they have friends among
+themselves. Why should not they? Well, it is time you had a change of
+society, I think. My husband has taken you among the mill people for
+two days; now to-night I will introduce you to a different set; some of
+your church people. I want you to take rest this afternoon, my dear
+Mrs. Masters--now won't you!--so as to be able to enjoy the evening. I
+am sure Brandt has fatigued you to death. I never can stand going up
+and down those stairs in the mills, and standing about; it kills me."
+
+"I wonder how they bear standing at the looms or the other machines all
+day?"
+
+"They? O, they are accustomed to it, I suppose. An hour or two of it
+breaks _me_ down. Now rest, will you? It's quite a great occasion
+to-night. One of our greatest men among the millowners, and one of the
+pillars of the church you and Mr. Masters are coming to take care of,
+gives an entertainment to his daughter to-night; a bride--married
+lately--just come home and just going away again. You'll see all our
+best people. Now please go and rest."
+
+Diana went to her room and rested, outwardly. In her mind thoughts were
+very busy. And when it was time to dress, they were hardly diverted
+from their subjects. It was with a sort of unconscious instinct that
+Diana threw her beautiful hair into the wavy masses and coils which
+were more graceful than she knew and crowned her so royally; and in the
+like manner that she put on a dress of soft white muslin. It had no
+adornment other than the lace which finished it at throat and wrists;
+she looked most like a bride herself. So Basil thought, when he came to
+fetch her; though he did not say his thought, fearing lest he might
+graze something in her mind which would pain her. He often withheld
+words for such a reason.
+
+"Will it do?" said Diana, seeing him look at her.
+
+"Too good for the occasion!" said Basil, shaking his head.
+
+"Too much dressed?" said Diana. "I thought I must dress as much as I
+could. Is it too much, Basil?"
+
+"Nobody else will think so," said the minister with a queer smile.
+
+"Do _you_ think so?"
+
+"You are just as you ought to be. All the same, it is beyond the
+company. Never mind. Come!"
+
+Downstairs another sort of criticism.
+
+"My dear Mrs. Masters! Not a bit of colour! You will be taken for the
+bride yourself. All in white, except your beautiful hair! Wait, that
+won't do; let me try if I can't improve things a little--do you
+mind?--Just let me see how this will look." Diana submitted patiently,
+and Mrs. Brandt officiously fastened a knot of blue ribband in her
+bright hair. She was greatly pleased with the effect, which Diana could
+not see. However, when they had reached the house they were going to,
+and leaving the dressing-room Diana took her husband's arm to go down
+to the company, he detained her to let Mr. and Mrs. Brandt pass on
+before, and then with a quick and quiet touch of his fingers removed
+the blue bow and put it in his pocket.
+
+"Basil!" said Diana, smiling,--"she will miss it."
+
+"So shall I. It commonized the whole thing."
+
+There was nothing common left, as every one instantly recognised who
+saw Diana that evening. A presence of such dignified grace, a face of
+such lofty and yet innocent beauty, so sweet a movement and manner,
+nobody there knew anything like it in Mainbridge. On the other hand, it
+was Diana's first experience of a party beyond the style and degree of
+Pleasant Valley parties. She found immediately that she was by much the
+plainest dressed woman in the company; but she forgot to think of the
+dresses, the people struck her with so much surprise.
+
+Of course everybody was introduced to her; and everybody said the same
+things.
+
+They hoped she liked Mainbridge; they hoped she was coming to live
+among them; Mr. Masters was coming to the church, wasn't he? and how
+did he like the looks of the place?
+
+"You see the best part of the church here to-night," remarked one stout
+elderly lady in a black silk and with flowers in her cap; a very
+well-to-do, puffy old lady;--"you see just the best of them, and _all_
+the best!"
+
+"What do you call the best part of a church?" Diana asked, looking
+round the room.
+
+"Well, you see them before you. There is Mr. Waters standing by the
+piano--he's the wealthiest man in Mainbridge; a very wealthy man. The
+one with his head a little bald, speaking just now to Mrs. Brandt, is
+one of our elders; he's pretty comfortable too; a beautiful place he
+has--have you seen it? No? You ought to have gone there to see his
+flowers; the grounds are beautiful, laid out with so much taste. But if
+you are fond of flowers, you should go to see Mr. Tillery's
+greenhouses. That is Mr. Tillery in the corner, between the two young
+ladies in white. Mr. Tillery's greenhouses extend half a mile, or
+would, if they were set in a line, you know."
+
+"Are there any poor people in the church?"
+
+"Poor people?" The article called for seemed to be rare. "Poor people?
+There are a few, I believe. Not many; the poor people go to the mission
+chapel. O, we support a mission; that's down in the mill quarter, where
+the hands live, I mean"--
+
+"And O, Mrs. Masters," a young lady struck in here, "you are coming,
+aren't you? I have fallen in love with you, and I want you to come. And
+O, I want you to tell me one thing--is Mr. Masters very strict?"
+
+"About what?" said Diana, smiling.
+
+"About anything."
+
+"Yes; he is very strict about telling the truth."
+
+"O, of course; but I mean about other things; what one may do or mayn't
+do. Is he strict?"
+
+"Not any stricter than his Master."
+
+"His master? who's that? But I mean,--does he make a fuss about
+dancing?"
+
+"I never saw Mr. Masters make a fuss about anything."
+
+"O, delightful! then he don't mind? You know, Mrs. Masters, the Bible
+says David danced."
+
+"The Bible tells why he danced, too," said Diana, wholly unable to keep
+her gravity.
+
+"Does it? I don't recollect. And O, Mrs. Masters, I want to know
+another thing; does Mr. Masters use the Episcopal form in marrying
+people?"
+
+"You are concerned in the question?"
+
+"O yes. I might be, you know, one of these days; and I always think the
+Episcopal form is so dignified and graceful; the ring and all that; the
+Presbyterian form is so _tucky_ and ugly. O, Mrs. Masters, don't you
+like a form for everything?"
+
+Before Diana could return an answer to this somewhat comprehensive
+question, a slight sound caused her to forget both question and speaker
+and the place where she was, as utterly as if they all had been swept
+from the sphere of the actual. It belonged to the sweet poise and calm
+of her heart and life that she was able to keep still as she was and
+make no movement and give no sign. The sound she had heard was a little
+running laugh; she thought it came from the next room; yet she did not
+turn her head to look that way, though it could have been uttered, she
+knew, from no throat but one. The young lady friend reiterated the
+question in which she was interested, and Diana answered; I do not know
+how, nor did she; while she was at the same time collecting her forces
+and reviewing them for the coming skirmish with circumstances. Evan
+Knowlton was here at Mainbridge. How could it possibly be? And even as
+the thought went through her, came that laugh again.
+
+Diana's mind began to be in a great state of confusion, which presently
+concentred itself upon the one point of keeping a calm and unmoved
+exterior. And to her surprise, this became easy. The confusion
+subsided, like the vibrations of harp-strings which have been brushed
+by a harsh hand; only her heart beat a little, waiting for the coming
+encounter.
+
+"Shall I take you in to see the bride?" Mr. Brandt here presented
+himself, offering his services. And Diana rose without hesitation and
+put her arm in his. She was glad, however, that their progress through
+the company was slow; she hoped Evan would see before he had to speak
+to her. She herself felt ready for anything.
+
+It was with a strange feeling, nevertheless, that she went through the
+introduction to the pale lady of fashion who was Evan's second choice.
+Beyond white silk and diamonds and a rather delicate appearance, Diana
+could in that moment discern nothing. Her senses did not seem to serve
+her well. The lady was very much in request besides, amid her old
+friends and acquaintances, and there was no chance to talk to her. Then
+followed the introduction to the bridegroom. He was going to content
+himself with a bow, but Diana stretched out her hand and gave his a
+warm grasp. "I have seen Captain Knowlton before,"--she said simply.
+She was perfectly quiet now, but she saw that he was not; and that he
+was willing to take refuge with other claimants upon his attention to
+escape any particular words with her. She stepped back, and gradually
+got behind people, where the sight of her could not distress him. It
+had distressed him, she had seen that. Was it on her account? or on his
+own? Gradually, watching her chances, she was able to work her way back
+into the other room, which was comparatively empty; and there she sat
+down at a table covered with photographs. She would go away, she
+thought, as soon as it could gracefully be done. And yet, she would
+have liked to speak a few words with Evan, this last time they might
+ever be together. What made him embarrassed in meeting her? With his
+bride just beside him, that ought not to be, she thought.
+
+The company had almost all crowded into the other room about the bride,
+and were fully occupied with her; and Diana was alone. She turned over
+the photographs and reviewed the kings and queens of Europe, with no
+sort of intelligence as to their families or nationalities,
+mechanically, just to cover her abstraction, and to seem to be doing
+something. Then suddenly she knew that Evan was beside her. He had come
+round and entered by the door from the hall; and now they both stood
+together for a moment, shielded by a corner of the partition wall
+between the rooms. Diana had risen.
+
+"This is a very painful meeting"--Captain Knowlton said, after a
+silence which would have been longer if he had dared to let it be so.
+
+"No"--said Diana, looking at him with as clear and fair a brow as if
+she had been the moon goddess whose name she bore; and her voice was
+very sweet. "Not painful, Evan; why should it be? I am glad to see you
+again."
+
+"I didn't know you were here"--he went on hurriedly, in evident great
+perturbation.
+
+"And we did not know you were here. I had no notion of it--till I heard
+your voice in the next room. I knew it instantly."
+
+"I would have spared you this, if I could have foreseen it."
+
+"Spared me what?"
+
+"All this,--this pain,--I know it must be pain to you.--I did not
+anticipate it."
+
+"Why should it be pain to me?" inquired Diana steadily.
+
+"I know your feeling--I would not have brought Clara into your
+presence"--
+
+"I am very glad to have seen her," said Diana in the same quiet way,
+looking at Evan fixedly. "I should have been glad to see more of her,
+and learn to know her. I could scarcely speak to her for the crowd
+around."
+
+"Yes, she is a great favourite, and everybody is eager to see her
+before she goes."
+
+"You are going away soon?"
+
+"O yes!--to my post."
+
+"I hope she will make you happy, Evan," Diana said gently and cordially.
+
+"You are very good, I am sure. I don't want you to think, Diana, that
+I--that I, in fact, have forgotten anything"--
+
+"You cannot forget too soon," she answered, smiling, "everything that
+Clara would not wish you to remember."
+
+"A fellow is so awfully lonely out there on the frontiers"--he said,
+mumbling his words through his moustache in a peculiar way.
+
+"You will not be lonely now, I hope."
+
+"You see, Di, you were lost to me. If I could only think of you as
+happy"--
+
+"You may."
+
+"Happy?" he repeated, looking at her. He had avoided her eyes until now.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then _you_ have forgotten?"
+
+"One does not forget," said Diana, with again a grave smile. "But I
+have ceased to look back sorrowfully."
+
+"But--you are married"--
+
+Then light flushed into Diana's face. She understood Evan's allusion.
+
+"Yes," she said,--"to somebody who has my whole heart."
+
+"But--you are married to Mr. Masters?"--he went on incredulously.
+
+"Certainly. And I love my husband with all the strength there is in me
+to love. I hope your wife will love you as well," she added with
+another smile, a different one, which was exceedingly aggravating to
+the young man. No other lips could wreathe so with such a mingling of
+softness and strength, love, and--yes, happiness. Captain Knowlton had
+seen smiles like that upon those lips once, long ago; never a brighter
+or more confident one. He felt unaccountably injured.
+
+"You did not speak so when I saw you last," he remarked.
+
+"No. I was a fool," said Diana, with somewhat unreasonable
+perverseness. "Or, if I was not a fool, I was weak."
+
+"I see you are strong now," said the young officer bitterly. "I was
+never strong; and I am weak still. I have not forgotten, Diana."
+
+"You ought to forget, Evan," she said gently.
+
+"It's impossible!" said he, hastily turning over photographs on the
+table.
+
+Diana would have answered, but the opportunity was gone. Other people
+came near; the two fell apart from each other, and no more words were
+interchanged between them.
+
+It grieved but did not astonish Basil to perceive, when he joined Diana
+in their own room that night, that she had been weeping; and it only
+grieved him to know that the weeping was renewed in the night. He gave
+no sign that he knew it, and Diana thought he was asleep through it
+all. Tears were by no means a favourite indulgence with her; this night
+the spring of them seemed to be suddenly unsealed, and they flowed fast
+and free, and were not to be checked. Neither did Diana quite clearly
+know what moved them. She was very sorry for Evan; yes, but these tears
+she was shedding were not painful tears. It came home to her, all the
+sorrowful waiting months and years that Basil had endured on her
+account; but sympathy was not a spring large enough to supply such a
+flow. She was glad those months were ended; yet they were not ended,
+for Basil did not know the facts she had stated with so much clearness
+to his whilome rival; she had not told himself, and he did not guess
+them. "He might," said Diana to herself,--"he ought,"--at the same time
+she knew now there was something for her to do. How she should do it,
+she did not know.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+
+
+AT ONE.
+
+
+
+They returned to Pleasant Valley that day, and Basil was immediately
+plunged in arrears of business. For the present Diana had to attend to
+her mother, whose conversation was anything but agreeable after she
+learned that her son-in-law had accepted the call to Mainbridge.
+
+"Ministers are made of stuff very like common people," she declared.
+"Every one goes where he can get the most."
+
+"You know Mr. Masters has plenty already, mother; plenty of his own."
+
+"Those that have most already are always the ones that want more. I've
+seen that a thousand times. If a man's property lies in an onion, he'll
+likely give you half of it if you want it; if he's got all Pleasant
+Valley, the odds are he won't give you an onion."
+
+Diana would have turned the conversation, but Mrs. Starling came back
+to the subject.
+
+"What do you suppose you are going to do with me?"
+
+"Mother, that is for you to choose. You know, where ever we are,
+there's a home for you if you will have it."
+
+"It's a pleasure to your husband to have me, too, ain't it?"
+
+"It is always a pleasure to him to do what is right."
+
+"Complimentary! You have grown very fond of him, haven't you, all of a
+sudden?"
+
+But this subject Diana would not touch. Not to her mother Not to any
+one, till the person most concerned knew the truth; and most certainly
+after that not to any one else. Evan had been told; there had been a
+reason; she was glad she had told him.
+
+"What do you suppose I'd do in Mainbridge?" Mrs. Starling went on.
+
+"There is plenty to do, mother. It is because there is so much to do,
+that we are going."
+
+"Dressing and giving parties. I always knew your husband held himself
+above our folks. He'll be suited there."
+
+This tried Diana, it was so very far from the truth. She fled the
+field. It was often the safest way. But she was very sorry for her
+mother. She went to Basil's study, where now no one was, and sat down
+by the window that looked into the garden. There Rosy presently caught
+sight of her; came to her, and climbed up into her lap; and for a good
+while the two entertained one another; the child going on in wandering
+sweet prattle, while the mother's thoughts, though she answered her,
+kept a deeper current of their own all the while. She was pondering as
+she sat there and smelled the roses in the garden and talked to the
+small Rose in her lap,--she was pondering what she should do to let her
+husband know what she now knew about herself. One would say, the
+simplest way would be to tell him! But Diana, with all her simplicity
+and sweetness, had a New England nature; and though she could speak
+frankly enough when spoken to, on this or any other subject, she shrank
+from volunteering revelations that were not expected of her;
+revelations that were so intimate, and belonged to her very inner self;
+and that concerned besides so vitally her relations with another
+person, even though that person were her husband. At the mere thought
+of doing it, the colour stirred uneasily in Diana's face. Why could not
+Basil divine? Looking out into the garden, both mother and child, and
+talking very busily one of them, thinking very busily the other,
+neither of them heard Basil come in.
+
+"Where's papa?" Rosy was at the moment asking, in a tone sufficiently
+indicating that in her view of things he had been gone long enough.
+
+"Not very far off"--was the answer, close behind them. Rosy started and
+threw herself round towards her father, and Diana also started and
+looked up; and in her face not less than in the little one there was a
+flash and a flush of sudden pleasure. Basil stooped to put his lips to
+Rosy's, and then, reading more than he knew in Diana's eyes, he carried
+the kiss to her lips also. It was many a day since he had done the
+like, and Diana's face flushed more and more. But Basil had taken up
+Rosy into his arms, and was interchanging a whole harvest of caresses
+with her. Diana turned her looks towards the garden, and felt ready to
+burst into tears. Could it be that he was proud, and intended to
+revenge upon her the long avoidance to which in days past she had
+treated him? Not like what she knew of Mr. Masters, and Diana was aware
+she was unreasonable; but it was sore and impatient at her heart, and
+she wanted to be in Rosy's place. And Basil the while was thinking
+whether by his unwonted caress he had grieved or distressed his wife.
+He touched her shoulder gently, and said,
+
+"Forgive me!"
+
+"Forgive you what?" said Diana, looking round.
+
+"My taking an indulgence that perhaps I should not have taken."
+
+"You are very much mistaken, Basil," said Diana, rising; and her voice
+trembled and her lips quivered. She thought he _was_ rather cruel now.
+
+"But I have troubled you?" he said, looking earnestly at her.
+
+Diana hesitated, and the quiver of her lips grew more uncontrollable.
+"Not in the way you think," she answered.
+
+"How then?" he asked gently. "But I _have_ troubled you. How, Di?"
+
+The last two words were spoken with a very tender, gentle accentuation,
+and they broke Diana down. She laid one hand on her husband's arm, and
+the other, with her face in it, on his shoulder, and burst into tears.
+
+I do not know what there is in the telegraphy of touch and look and
+tone; but something in the grip of Diana's hand, and in her action
+altogether, wrought a sudden change in Basil, and brought a great
+revelation. He put his little girl down out of his arms and took his
+wife in them. And for minutes there was no word spoken; and Rosy was
+too much astonished at the strange motionless hush they maintained to
+resent at first her own dispossession and the great slight which had
+been done her.
+
+There had come a honey-bee into the room by mistake, and not finding
+there what he expected to find, he was flying about and about, trying
+in vain to make his way to something more in his line than books; and
+the soft buzz of the creature was the only sound to be heard, till Rosy
+began to complain. She did not know what to make of the utter stillness
+of the two figures beside her, who stood like statues; was furthermore
+not a little jealous of seeing what she considered her own prerogative
+usurped by another; and finally began an importunate petitioning to be
+taken up again. But Rosy's voice, never neglected before, was not heard
+to-day. Neither of them heard it. The consciousness that was nearest
+was overpowering, and barred out every other.
+
+"Diana"--said Basil at last in a whisper; and she looked up, all
+flushed and trembling, and did not meet his eyes. Neither did she take
+her hand from his shoulder; they had not changed their position.
+
+"Diana,--what are you going to say to me?"
+
+"Haven't I said it?" she answered with a moment's glance and smile; and
+then between smiles and tears her head sank again.
+
+"Why did you never tell me before?" he said with a breath that was
+almost a sob, and at the same time had a somewhat imperative accent of
+demand in it.
+
+"I did not know myself."
+
+"And now?"--
+
+"Now?"--repeated Diana, half laughing.
+
+"Yes, now; what have you got to tell me?"
+
+"Do you want me to tell you what you know already?"
+
+"You have told me nothing, and I do not feel that I know anything till
+you have told me," he said in a lighter tone. "Hallo, Rosy!--what's the
+matter?"
+
+For Rosy, seeing herself entirely to all appearance supplanted, had now
+broken out into open lamentations, too heartfelt to be longer
+disregarded. Diana gently released herself, and stooped down and took
+the child up, perhaps glad of a diversion; but Rosy instantly stretched
+out her arms imploringly to go to her father.
+
+"I was jealous of _her_, a little while ago," Diana remarked as the
+exchange was made.
+
+But at that word, Basil set the child, scarcely in his arms, out of
+them again on the floor; and folding Diana in them anew, paid her some
+of the long arrear of caresses so many a day withheld. Ay, it was the
+first time he had known he might without distressing her; and no doubt
+lips can do no more silently to reveal a passion of affection than
+these did then. If Basil had had a revelation made to him, perhaps so
+did Diana; but I hardly think Diana was surprised. She knew something
+of the depths and the contained strength in her husband's character;
+but it is safe to say, she would never be jealous of Rosy again! Not
+anything like these demonstrations had ever fallen to Rosy's share.
+
+Anything, meanwhile, prettier than Diana's face it would be difficult
+to see. Flushing like a girl, her lips wreathing with smiles,
+tear-drops hanging on the eyelashes still, but with flashes and
+sparkles coming and going in the usually quiet grey eyes. Dispossessed
+Rosy on the floor meanwhile looked on in astonishment so great that she
+even forgot to protest. Basil looked down at her at last and laughed.
+
+"Rosy has had a lesson," he said, picking her up. "She will know her
+place henceforth. Come, Di, sit down and talk to me. How came this
+about?"
+
+"I don't know, Basil," said Diana meekly.
+
+"Where did it begin?"
+
+"I don't know that either. O, _begin?_ I think the beginning was very
+long ago, when I learned to honour you so thoroughly."
+
+"Honour is very cold work; don't talk to me about honour," said Basil.
+"I have fed and supped on honour, and felt very empty!"
+
+"Well, you have had it," said Diana contentedly.
+
+"Go on. When did it change into something else?"
+
+"It has not changed," said Diana mischievously.
+
+"When did you begin to give me something better?"
+
+"Do you know, Basil, I cannot tell? I was not conscious myself of what
+was going on in me."
+
+"When?"
+
+"Perhaps--since soon after I came home from Clifton. It _had_ not begun
+then; how soon it began after, I cannot tell. It was so gradual."
+
+"When did you discover a change?"
+
+"I _felt_ it--I hardly discovered it--a good while ago, I think. But I
+did not in the least know what it was. I wished--Basil, it is very
+odd!"--and the colour rose in Diana's cheeks,--"I _wished_ that I could
+love you."
+
+The minister smiled, and there was a suspicious drop in his eyes, which
+I think to hide, he stooped and kissed Rosy.
+
+"Go on. When did you come to a better understanding?"
+
+"I don't think I recognised it until--I told mother, not a great while
+ago, that I cared for nobody in the world but you; but that was
+different; I meant something different; I do not think I recognised it
+fully, until--you will think me very strange--until I saw--Evan
+Knowlton."
+
+"And then?" said Basil with a quick look at his wife. Diana's eyes were
+dreamily going out of the window, and her lips wore the rare smile
+which had vexed Evan, and which he himself had never seen on them
+before that day.
+
+"Then,--he ventured to remind me that--once--it was not true."
+
+"What?" said Basil, laughing. "Your mother makes very confused
+statements, Rosy?"
+
+"He was mortified, I think, that I did not seem to feel more at seeing
+him; and then he dared to remind me that I had married a man I did
+not"--Diana left the word unspoken.
+
+"And then?"
+
+"Then I knew all of a sudden that he was mistaken; that if it had been
+true once, it was true no longer. I told him so."
+
+"Told him!" echoed her husband.
+
+"I told him. He will make that mistake no more."
+
+"Then, pray, why did you not tell the person most concerned?"
+
+"I could not. I thought you must find it out of yourself."
+
+"How did he take your communication?"
+
+"Basil--human nature is a very strange thing! I think, do you know?--I
+think he was sorry."
+
+"Poor fellow!" said Basil.
+
+"Can you understand it?"
+
+"I am afraid I can."
+
+"You may say 'poor fellow!'--but I was displeased with him. He had no
+right to care; at least, to be anything but glad. It was wrong. He had
+no _right_."
+
+"No; but you have fought a fight, my child, which few fight and come
+off with victory."
+
+"It was not I, Basil," said Diana softly. "It was the power that bade
+the sea be still. _I_ never could have conquered. Never."
+
+"Let us thank Him!"
+
+"And it was you that led me to trust in him, Basil. You told me, that
+anything I trusted Christ to do for me, he would do it; and I saw how
+you lived, and I believed first because you believed."
+
+Basil was silent. His face was very grave and very sweet.
+
+"I am rather disappointed in Evan," said Diana after a pause. "I shall
+always feel an interest in him; but, do you know, Basil, he seems to me
+_weak?_"
+
+"I knew that a long while ago."
+
+"I knew it two years ago--but I would not recognise it." Then leaving
+her place she knelt down beside her husband and laid her head on his
+breast. "O Basil,--if I can ever make up to you!"--
+
+"Hush!" said he. "We will go and make things up to those millworkers in
+Mainbridge."
+
+There was a long pause, and then Diana spoke again; spoke slowly.
+
+"Do you know, Basil, the millowners in Mainbridge seemed to me to want
+something done for them, quite as much as the millworkers?"
+
+"I make the charge of that over to you."
+
+"Me!" said Diana.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"What do you want me to do for them?"
+
+"What do you think they need?"
+
+"Basil, they do not seem to me to have the least idea--not an
+_idea_--of what true religion is."
+
+"They would be very much astonished to hear you say so."
+
+"But is it not true?"
+
+"You would find every wealthy community more or less like Mainbridge."
+
+"Would I? That does not alter the case, Basil."
+
+"No. Do you think things are different here in Pleasant Valley?"
+
+Diana pondered. "I think they do not _seem_ the same," she said.
+"People at least would not be shocked if you told them here what
+Christian living is. And there are some who know it by experience."
+
+"No doubt, so there are in the Mainbridge church, though it may be we
+shall find them most among the poor people."
+
+"But what is it you want me to do, Basil?"
+
+"Show them what a life lived for Christ is. We will both show them; but
+in my case people lay it off largely on the bond of my profession.
+Then, when we have shown them for awhile what it is, we can speak of it
+with some hope of being understood."
+
+
+
+"Has anything special come to the Dominie?" Mrs. Starling asked that
+evening, when after prayers the minister had gone to his study.
+
+"Why, mother?"
+
+"He seems to have a great deal of thanksgiving on his mind!"
+
+"That's nothing very uncommon in him," said Diana, smiling.
+
+"What's happened to _you?_" inquired her mother next, eyeing her
+daughter with curious eyes.
+
+"Why do you ask?"
+
+"I don't do things commonly without a reason. When folks roll their
+words out like butter, I like to know what's to pay."
+
+"I cannot imagine what manner of speech that can be," said Diana,
+amused.
+
+"Well--it was your'n just now. And it was your husband's half an hour
+ago."
+
+"I suppose," said Diana, gravely now, "that when people feel happy, it
+makes their speech flow smoothly."
+
+"And you feel happy?" said Mrs. Starling with a look as sharp as an
+arrow.
+
+"Yes, mother. I do."
+
+"What about?"
+
+Diana hesitated, and then answered with a kind of sweet
+solemnity,--"All earth, and all heaven."
+
+Mrs. Starling was silenced for a minute.
+
+"By 'all earth' I suppose you mean me to understand things in the
+future?"
+
+"And things in the past. Everything that ever happened to me, mother,
+has turned out for good."
+
+Mrs. Starling looked at her daughter, and saw that she meant it.
+
+"The ways o' the world," she muttered scornfully, "are too queer for
+anything!" But Diana let the imputation lie.
+
+
+
+They went to Mainbridge. Not Mrs. Starling, but the others. And you may
+think of them as happy, with both hands full of work. They live in a
+house just a little bit out of the town, where there is plenty of
+ground for gardens, and the air is not poisoned with smoke or vapour.
+Roses and honeysuckles flourish as well here as in Pleasant Valley;
+laburnums are here too, dropping fresh gold every year; and there are
+banks of violets and beds of lilies, and in the spring-time crocuses
+and primroses and hyacinths and snowdrops; and chrysanthemums and
+asters, and all sorts of splendours and sweetnesses in the fall. For
+even Diana's flowers are not for herself alone, nor even for her
+children alone, whose special pleasure in connection with them is to
+make nosegays for sick and poor people, and to cultivate garden plots
+in order to have the more to give away. And not Diana's roses and
+honeysuckles are sweeter than the fragrance of her life which goes
+through all Mainbridge. Rich and poor look to that house as a point of
+light and centre of strength; to the poor it is, besides, a treasury of
+comfort. There is no telling the change that has been wrought already
+in the place. It is as Basil meant it should be, and knew it would be.
+It is as it always is; when the box is broken at Christ's feet, the
+house is filled with the odour of the ointment.
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+MURRAY AND GIBB, EDINBURGH,
+
+PRINTERS TO HER MAJESTY'S STATIONERY OFFICE.
+
+
+
+
+
+Typographical errors silently corrected:
+
+Chapter 1: =take off slice= replaced by =take off a slice=
+
+Chapter 1: =those biscuits too brown= replaced by =them biscuits too
+brown=
+
+Chapter 1: =Why has anybody= replaced by =Why, has anybody=
+
+Chapter 1: =a rouser?= replaced by =a rouser!=
+
+Chapter 1: =it 'ill take us= replaced by =it'll take us=
+
+Chapter 1 =hev= replaced by =hev'=
+
+Chapter 1: =I spect they're dreadful= replaced by =I s'pect they're
+dreadful=
+
+Chapter 2: =little meetins= replaced by =little meetin's=
+
+Chapter 2: =and she looked like= replaced by ="and she looked like=
+
+Chapter 2: ="Don't the minister= replaced by =Don't the minister=
+
+Chapter 3: =strip of gold= replaced by =stripe of gold=
+
+Chapter 7: =no sitting still= replaced by =no sittin' still=
+
+Chapter 7: =Farmer Selden= replaced by =farmer Selden=
+
+Chapter 11: =You see there are seldom= replaced by =You see, there are
+seldom=
+
+Chapter 14: =your place, Mrs. Reverdy= replaced by =your place, Mis'
+Reverdy=
+
+Chapter 14: =of fierce= replaced by =o' fierce=
+
+Chapter 14: =of the pulpit= replaced by =o' the pulpit=
+
+Chapter 14: =hev= replaced by =hev'=
+
+Chapter 15: =grass leading= replaced by =grass, leading=
+
+Chapter 15: =woman by nature= replaced by =woman, by nature=
+
+Chapter 17: =why like a ripe= replaced by =why, like a ripe=
+
+Chapter 17: =Scripter does= replaced by =Scripter doos=
+
+Chapter 17: =hev= replaced by =hev'=
+
+Chapter 18: =oursn's= replaced by =our'n's=
+
+Chapter 20: =folk's houses= replaced by =folks' houses=
+
+Chapter 22: =a preacher?'"= replaced by =a preacher'?"=
+
+Chapter 24: =hev= replaced by =hev'=
+
+Chapter 25: =could get too much= replaced by =could git too much=
+
+Chapter 25: =hev= replaced by =hev'=
+
+Chapter 25: =at folk's secrets= replaced by =at folks' secrets=
+
+Chapter 25: =Wall, I don't know= replaced by =Wall, I don' know=
+
+Chapter 34: =Who does, then= replaced by =Who doos, then=
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Diana, by Susan Warner
+
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