was sitting by the fire at a distance; but he knew whom she
was addressing in her mournful ravings, and his heart and courage
almost gave way. It was very bitter; and many an hour of those nights
the minister spent on his knees at the bed's foot, seeking for strength
and wisdom, seeking to keep his heart from being quite broken, striving
to know what to do. Should he do as she said, and never kiss her again?
Should he behave to her in the future as a mere stranger? What was best
for him and for her? Basil would have done that unflinchingly, though
it had led him to the stake, if he could know what the best was. But he
did not quite give up all hope, desperate as the case looked; his own
strong cheerful nature and his faith in God kept him up. And he
resolutely concluded that it would not be the best way nor the
hopefulest, for him and Diana, bound to each other as they were, to try
to live as strangers. The bond could not be broken; it had better be
acknowledged by them both. But if Basil could have broken it and set
her free, he would have done it at any cost to himself. So, week after
week, he kept his post as nurse at Diana's side. He was a capital
nurse. Untireable as a man, and tender as a woman; quick as a woman,
too, to read signs and answer unspoken wishes; thoughtful as many women
are not; patient with an unending patience. Diana was herself at times,
and recognised all this. And by degrees, as the slow days wore away,
her disorder wore away too, or wore itself out, and she came back to
her normal condition in all except strength. That was very failing,
even after the fever was gone. And still Basil kept his post. He began
now, it is true, to attend to some pressing outside duties, for which
in the weeks just past he had provided a substitute; but morning, noon,
and night he was at Diana's side. No hand but his own might ever carry
to her the meals which his own hand had no inconsiderable share in
preparing. He knew how to serve an invalid's breakfast with a
refinement of care which Diana herself before that would not have known
how to give another, though she appreciated it and took her lesson.
Then nobody could so nicely and deftly prop up pillows and cushions so
as to make her rest comfortably for the taking of the meal; no one had
such skilful strength to enable a weak person to change his position.
For all other things, Diana saw no difference in him; nothing told her
that she had betrayed herself, and she b