child, so I keep to shore. Come after
me, here!"--

And she seized Diana's hand and marched in ahead of her, and marched
on, till Diana would have stopped, but the old lady's hand pulled her
along.

It was never to be forgotten, that first taste of salt water. When they
were in the flood up to their necks, her companion made her duck her
head under; it filled Diana's mouth and eyes at the first gasp with
salt water, but what a new freshness of life seemed at the same time to
come into her! How her brain cleared, and her very heart seemed to grow
strong, and her eyesight true in that lavatory! She came out of the
water for the moment almost gay, and made her toilette with a vigour
and energy she had not brought to it in many a day. Breakfast was
better to her, and the old lady was contented with what she said about
it.

Yet Diana sat and dreamed again all day after that, watching the
rolling tide of waters, and letting her thoughts run on in as
uninterrupted a flow. She dreamed only about Evan; she went over old
times and new, old impressions and new; she recalled words and looks
and tones and gestures, of long ago and lately; at Pleasant Valley she
had not dared; here she thought it was safe, and she might take the
indulgence. She recalled all Evan's looks. How he had improved! More
stately, more manly, more confident (could that be?), more graceful;
with the air of command replacing a comparative repression of manner
(only comparative), even as the full, thick, curly moustache replaced a
velvety dark line which Diana well remembered. As he had been then, she
had fancied him perfect; as he was now, he was to the eye far finer
yet. Basil could not compare with him. Ah, why did fancy torture her by
ever bringing forward the comparison! Basil never pretended to wear a
moustache, and the features of his face were not so regular, and his
eye was not so brilliant, and the indescribable air of authority was
not there, nor the regulated grace of movement. True, Basil could sit a
horse, and ride him, she knew, as well as anybody; and true, Basil's
face had a high grave sweetness which was utterly unknown to the
countenance of that other; and it was also true, that if Mr. Masters
wore no air of command, he knew what the thing meant, especially
command over himself. And there the comparison failed for Evan. In the
contrast, Diana, down deep in the bottom of her heart, was not
satisfied with him, not pleased, not contented. He