not
shrink from other eyes, nor droop in hesitation or difficulty; as
little was there a line of daring or self-assertion about them. The
dignity of the woman struck and hushed her companions.

"Our minister'll be a happy man, I'm thinkin'," said good Mrs.
Carpenter, speaking out what was the secret thought of many present.

"You haven't joined the church, Diana," said Mrs. Starling harshly.

"I will do that the first opportunity, mother."

"That's your husband's doing. I allays knew he'd wile a bird off a
bush!"

"I am very thankful to him," said Diana calmly.

That calm of hers was unapproachable. It would neither take offence nor
give it; although, it is true, it did irritate some of her neighbours
and companions by the very distance it put between them and her. Diana
was different from them, and growing more different; yet it was hard to
find fault. She was so handsome, too; that helped the effect of
superiority. And her dress; what was there about her dress? It was a
pale lilac muslin, no way remarkable in itself; but it fell around
lines so soft and noble, and about so queenly a carriage, it waved with
so quiet and graceful motions, there was a temptation to think Diana
must have called in dressmaking aid that was not lawful--for the
minister's wife. As the like often happens, Diana was set apart by a
life-long sorrow from all their world of experience,--and they thought
she was proud.

"What did you pay for that muslin, Diana?" Mrs. Flandin asked.

"Fifteenpence."

"Du tell! well I should ha' thought it was more," remarked Miss Gunn.
"It's made so elegant."

"I made it myself," said Diana, smiling.

"Du tell!" said Miss Gunn again, reviewing the gown. For, as I hinted,
its draperies were graceful, their lovely lines being unbroken by
furbelows and flummery; and the sleeves were open and half long, with a
full ruffle which fell away from Diana's beautiful arms.

"How Phemie Knowlton used to dress!" Miss Gunn went on, moved by some
hidden association of ideas.

"I wonder is nobody ever comin' back to Elmfield?" said Mrs.
Boddington. "They don't do nothin' with the place, and it's just waste."

The talk wandered on; but Diana's thoughts remained fixed. They had
flown back over the two years since Evan and she had their explanation
in the blackberry field, and for a little while she sat in a dream,
feeling the stings of pain, that seemed, she thought, to grow more
lively now instead of less. The com