to lift them off our shoulders and hearts; and one of his
children doubts if he cares!"

"But he does not lift them off, Basil," said Diana; and her voice
trembled with the unshed tears.

"He will"--said her husband.

"When?"

"As soon as we let him."

"What must I do to let him?"

"Trust him wholly. And follow him like a child."

The tears came, Diana could not hinder them; she laid her face against
the side of her chair where Basil could not see it.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

EVAN'S SISTER.

Slowly from this time Diana regained strength, and by degrees took
again her former place in the household. To Miss Collins' vision she
was "the same as ever." Basil felt she was not.

Yet Diana did every duty of her station with all the care and diligence
she had ever given to it. She neglected nothing. Basil's wardrobe was
kept in perfect order; his linen was exquisitely got up; his meals were
looked after, and served with all the nice attention that was possible.
Diana did not in the least lose her head, or sit brooding when there
was something to do. She did not sit brooding at any time, unless at
rare intervals. Yet her husband's heart was very heavy with the weight
which rested on hers, and truly with his own share as well. There was a
line in the corners of Diana's sweet mouth which told him, nobody else,
that she was turning to stone; and the light of her eye was, as it
were, turned inward upon itself. Without stopping to brood over things,
which she did not, her mind was constantly abiding in a different
sphere away from him, dwelling afar off, or apart in a region by
itself; he had her physical presence, but not her spiritual; and who
cares for a body without a soul? All this time there was no confidence
between them. Basil knew, indeed, the whole facts of the case, but
Diana did not know he knew. He wished she would speak, but believed now
she never would; and he could not ask her. Truly he had his own part to
bear; and withal his sorrow and yearning tenderness for her. Sometimes
his heart was nigh to break. But Diana's heart was broken.

Was it comfort, or was it not comfort, when near the end of spring a
little daughter was born to them? Diana in any circumstances was too
true a woman not to enter upon a mother's riches and responsibilities
with a full heart, not to enter thoroughly into a mother's joy and
dignity; it was a beautiful something that had come into her life, so
far as itself was conce