niture. 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 woul