ere 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 exce