ckery! And Basil, what would become of him? As for Evan,
Diana dared not so much in her thoughts as even to glance his way. She
had risen half up in bed--she had not undressed at all--and was sitting
with her arms slung round her knees, gazing at the daylight and
wondering vaguely about all these things, when the door between the
rooms swung lightly open. If she had dared, Diana would have crouched
down and hid her face again; she was afraid to do that; she sat
stolidly still, gazing out at the window. Look at Basil she could not.
His approach filled her with so great a feeling of repulsion that she
would have liked to spring from the bed and flee,--anywhere, away and
away, where she would see him no more. No such flight was possible. She
sat motionless and stared at the window, keeping down the internal
shiver which ran over her.

Basil came with his light quick step and stood beside her; took her
hand and felt her pulse.

"You are not feeling very well, Di," he said gravely.

"Well enough,"--said Diana. "I will get up and be down presently."

"Will you?" said he. "Now I think you had better not. The best thing
you can do will be to lie still here and keep quiet all day. May I
prescribe for you?"

"Yes. I will do what you please," said Diana. She never looked at him,
and he knew it.

"Then this is what I think you had better do. Get up and take a bath;
then put on your dressing-gown and lie down again. You shall have your
breakfast up here--and I will let nobody come up to disturb you."

"I'm not hungry. I don't want anything."

"You are a little feverish--but you will be better for taking
something. Now you get your bath--and I'll attend to the breakfast."

He kissed her brow gravely, guessing that she would rather he did not,
but knowing nevertheless that he might and must; for he was her
husband, and however gladly she, and unselfishly he, would have broken
the relation between them, it subsisted and could not be broken. And
then he went down-stairs.

"Where's Mis' Masters?" demanded Jemima when she brought in the
breakfast-tray, standing attention.

"Not coming down."

"Ain't anything ails her, is there?"

"Yes. But I don't know how serious. Give me the kettle, Jemima; I told
her to lie still, and that I would bring her a cup of tea."

"I'll take it up, Mr. Masters; and you can eat your breakfast."

"Thank you. I always like to keep my promises. Fetch in the kettle,
Jemima."

Jemima dared not b