s. Her
fate,--and yet more like a good angel to her than anybody that had ever
crossed the line of her path; the destroyer of her hope and joy for
ever,--and yet one to whom she was bound, and to whom she owed all
possible duty and affection; she wished it were possible never to see
him again in the world, and at the same time there was not another in
the world of whom she believed all the good she believed of him. His
image was dreadful to her. Basil was the very centre-point of her
agonized struggles that day. To be parted from Evan she could have
borne, if she might have devoted herself to the memory of him and lived
in quiet sorrow; but to put this man in his place!--to belong to him,
to be his wife--

In proportion to the strength and health of Diana's nature was the
power of her realization and the force of her will. But also the
possibility of endurance. The internal fight would have broken down a
less pure and sound bodily organization. It was characteristic of this
natural soundness and sweetness, which was mental as well as physical,
that her mother's part in the events which had destroyed her happiness
had very little of her attention that day. She thought of it with a
kind of sore wonder and astonishment, in which resentment had almost no
share. "O, mother, mother!"--she said in her heart; but she said no
more.

Miss Collins came up once or twice to see her, but Diana lay quiet, and
was able to baffle curiosity.

"Are ye goin' to git up and come down to supper?" the handmaid asked in
the second visit, which occurred late in the afternoon.

"I don't know. I shall do what Mr. Masters says."

"You don't look as ef there was much ailin' you;--and yet you look kind
o' queer, too. I shouldn't wonder a bit ef you was a gettin' a fever.
There's a red spot on one of your cheeks that's like fire. T'other
one's pale enough. You must be in a fever, I guess, or you couldn't lie
here with the window open."

"Leave it open--and just let me be quiet."

Miss Collins went down, marvelling to herself. But when Basil came home
he found the flush spread to both cheeks, and a look in Diana's eyes
that he did not like.

"How has the day been?" he asked, passing his hand over the flushed
cheek and the disordered hair. Diana shrank and shivered and did not
answer. He felt her pulse.

"Diana," said he, "what is the matter with you?"

She stared at him, in the utter difficulty of answering. "Basil"--she
began, and stoppe