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