nd fragrant up to his wife's room. Diana was lying just as he
had left her. Mr. Masters shut the door, and came to the bedside.

"Di," said he gently, "I have brought you a cup of tea."

There was neither answer nor movement. He repeated his words. She
murmured an unintelligible rejection of the proposal, keeping her face
carefully covered.

"No," said he, "I think you had better take it. Lift up your head, Di,
and try. It is good."

The tone was tender and quiet, nevertheless Diana had known Mr. Masters
long enough to be assured that when he had made up his mind to a thing,
there was no bringing him off it. She would have to take the tea; and
as he put his hand under her head to lift her up, she suffered him to
do it. Then he saw her face. Only by the light of a candle, it is true;
but that revealed more than enough. So wan, so deathly pale, so dark in
the lines round the eyes, and those indescribable shadows which mental
pain brings into a face, that her husband's heart sank down. No small
matter, easy to blow away, had brought his strong beautiful Diana to
look like that. But his face showed nothing, though indeed she never
looked at it; and his voice was clear and gentle just as usual in the
few words he said. He held the cup to her lips, and after she had drank
the tea and lay down again, he passed his hand once or twice with a
tender touch over her brow and the disordered hair. Then, with no more
questions or remarks, he took away the candle and the empty cup, and
Diana saw him no more that night.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THINGS UNDONE.

The mischief-maker slept peacefully till morning. Nobody else. Diana
did not keep awake, it is true; she was at that dull stage of misery
when something like stupor comes over the brain; she slumbered heavily
from time to time. Nature does claim such a privilege sometimes. It was
Basil who watched the night through; watched and prayed. There was no
stupor in his thoughts; he had a very full, though vague, realization
of great evil that had come upon them both. He was very near the truth,
too, after an hour or two of pondering. Putting Miss Collins' hints,
Diana's own former confessions, and her present condition together, he
saw, clearer than it was good to see, the probable state of affairs.
And yet he was glad to see it; if any help or bettering was ever to
come, it was desirable that his vision should be true, and his wisdom
have at least firm data to act upon. But w