etrayed herself no more. Dull
and listless she might be; that was natural enough in her weak state of
convalescence; and Diana had never been demonstrative towards her
husband; it was no new thing that she was not demonstrative now.
Neither did he betray that he knew all she was trying, poor child, to
hide from him. He was just as usual. Only, in Diana's present helpless
condition, he had opportunity to show tenderness and care in a thousand
services which in her well days she would have dispensed with. And he
did it, as I said, with the strength of a man and the delicacy of a
woman. He let nobody else do anything for her.

Did he guess how gladly she would have escaped from all his
ministrations? did he knew what they were to Diana? Probably not; for
with all his fineness of perception he was yet a man; and I suppose,
reverse the conditions, there never was a man yet who would object to
have one woman wait upon him because he loved another. Yet Basil did
know partly and partly guess; and he went patiently on in the way he
had marked out for himself, upheld by principle and by a great tenacity
of purpose which was part of his character. Nevertheless, those were
days of pain, great and terrible even for him; what they were to Diana
he could but partially divine. As health slowly came back, and she
looked at herself and her life again with eyes unveiled by disease,
with the pitiless clearness of sound reason, Diana wished she could
die. She knew she could not; she could come no nearer to it than a
passing thought; her pulses were retaking their sweet regularity; her
nerves were strung again, fine and true; only muscular strength seemed
to tarry. Lying there on her bed and looking out over the snow-covered
fields, for it was mid-winter by this time, Diana sometimes felt a
terrible impulse to fly to Evan; as if she could wait only till she had
the power to move The feeling was wild, impetuous; it came like a
hurricane wind, sweeping everything before it. And then Diana would
feel her chains, and writhe, knowing that she could not and would not
break them. But how ever was life to be endured? life with this other
man? And how dreadful it was that he was so good, and so good to her!
Yes, it would be easier if he did not care for her so well, far easier;
easier even if he were not himself so good. The power of his goodness
fettered Diana; it was a spell upon her. Yes, and she wanted to be good
too; she would not forfeit heaven