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 hi