ink of it, the attractions
were found irresistible. To have her grandchild in the house beside
her, perhaps with a vague thought of making up to her daughter in some
unexplained way for the wrong she had done; at any rate, to have voices
and life in the house again, instead of the bare silence; voices of
people that belonged to her own blood; Mrs. Starling found that she
could not give up the idea, once it got into her head. Then she
objected that the house was too small.

The minister said he would put up an addition of a couple of rooms for
himself and Diana, and Diana's old room could serve as a nursery.

Who wants a nursery? Mrs. Starling demanded. Her idea of a nursery was
the whole house and all out of doors. The minister laughed and said
that was not _his_ idea; and Mrs. Starling was fain to let it pass. She
was human, though she was not a good woman; and Diana's proposal to
come back to her had, though she would never allow it even to herself,
touched both her heart and her conscience. Somewhere very deep down and
out of sight, nevertheless it was true; and it was true that she had
been very lonely; and she let the minister have his own way,
undisputed, about the building.

The carpenters were set to work at once, and at home Diana quietly made
preparations for a removal in the course of a few months. She buried
herself in business as much as ever she could, to still thought and
keep her nerves quiet; for constantly, daily and nightly now, the image
of Evan was before her, and the possibility that he might any day
present himself in very flesh and blood. No precautions were of any
avail; if he chose to seek her out, Diana could not escape him unless
by leaving Pleasant Valley; and that was not possible. Would he come?
She looked at that question from every possible point of the compass,
and from every one the view that presented itself was that he would
come. Nay, he ought not; it would be worse than of no use for them to
see each other; and yet, something in Diana's recollections of him, or,
it might be, something in the consciousness of her own nature, made her
say to herself that he would come. How should she bear it? She almost
wished that Basil would forbid it, and take measures to make it
impossible; but the minister went his way unmoved and quiet as usual;
there was neither fear nor doubt on his broad fair brow. Diana
respected him immensely; and at times felt a great pang of grief that
his face should