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 th