rself. She
was sorry to leave this place. Yes, why not? She was sorry to exchange
her present life for the old one. Quiet and solitary it had been, this
life at Clifton, for Mrs. Sutphen scarcely made her feel less alone
with her than without her; and she had held herself back from society.
Quiet and solitary, and lately healing; and Pleasant Valley was full of
painful memories and associations, her mother, and--her husband. Diana
felt as if she could have welcomed everything else, if only Basil had
not been there. The sight of the lovely bay with its misty shores and
its springing light hurt her at last, because she must leave it; she
sank her face in her hands and began to call herself to account. Duty
was waiting before her; was she not willing to take it up? She had
surrendered her will utterly to God in the matter of her love to Evan,
and she had been delivered from the torture and the bondage of it;
quite delivered; she could bear to live without Evan now, she could
bear to live without thinking of him; he would always be in a certain
sense dear, but the spell of passion was broken for ever. That did not
make her love her husband. No; but would not the same strength that had
freed her from temptation on the one hand, help her to go forward and
do her duty on the other? And in love and gratitude for the deliverance
vouchsafed her, should she not do it? "I will do it, if I die!" was her
inward conclusion. "And I shall not die, but by the Lord's help I shall
do it."

So she wrote to her husband that she was ready, and he came to fetch
her.

The Pleasant Valley maples were flaunting in orange and crimson when
the home journey was made. The fairest month of the year was in the
prime of its beauty; the air had that wonderful clearness and calm
which bids the spirit of the beholder be still and be glad, saying that
there is peace and victory somewhere, and rest, when the harvest of
life is gathered. Diana felt the speech, but thought nevertheless that
for _her_, peace and victory were a good way off. She believed they
would come, when life was done; the present thing was to live, and
carry the burden and do the work. The great elms hung still green and
sheltering over the lean-to door. The house was enlarged and improved;
and greatly beautified with a coat of paint. Diana saw it all; and she
saw the marvellous beauty of the meadows and their bordering hills; she
felt as if she were coming to her prison and place of har