s knew your husband held himself
above our folks. He'll be suited there."

This tried Diana, it was so very far from the truth. She fled the
field. It was often the safest way. But she was very sorry for her
mother. She went to Basil's study, where now no one was, and sat down
by the window that looked into the garden. There Rosy presently caught
sight of her; came to her, and climbed up into her lap; and for a good
while the two entertained one another; the child going on in wandering
sweet prattle, while the mother's thoughts, though she answered her,
kept a deeper current of their own all the while. She was pondering as
she sat there and smelled the roses in the garden and talked to the
small Rose in her lap,--she was pondering what she should do to let her
husband know what she now knew about herself. One would say, the
simplest way would be to tell him! But Diana, with all her simplicity
and sweetness, had a New England nature; and though she could speak
frankly enough when spoken to, on this or any other subject, she shrank
from volunteering revelations that were not expected of her;
revelations that were so intimate, and belonged to her very inner self;
and that concerned besides so vitally her relations with another
person, even though that person were her husband. At the mere thought
of doing it, the colour stirred uneasily in Diana's face. Why could not
Basil divine? Looking out into the garden, both mother and child, and
talking very busily one of them, thinking very busily the other,
neither of them heard Basil come in.

"Where's papa?" Rosy was at the moment asking, in a tone sufficiently
indicating that in her view of things he had been gone long enough.

"Not very far off"--was the answer, close behind them. Rosy started and
threw herself round towards her father, and Diana also started and
looked up; and in her face not less than in the little one there was a
flash and a flush of sudden pleasure. Basil stooped to put his lips to
Rosy's, and then, reading more than he knew in Diana's eyes, he carried
the kiss to her lips also. It was many a day since he had done the
like, and Diana's face flushed more and more. But Basil had taken up
Rosy into his arms, and was interchanging a whole harvest of caresses
with her. Diana turned her looks towards the garden, and felt ready to
burst into tears. Could it be that he was proud, and intended to
revenge upon her the long avoidance to which in days past she had
t