Diana Part 61

Her voice was abrupt and hoa.r.s.e; his was calm and cool as the fall of the dew.

"I want to tell you if I can. But I shall hurt you."

"I am very willing, if it eases you. Go on."

"It wont ease me. But you must know it. You ought to know. O, Basil, I made such a mistake when I married you!"--

She did not mean to say anything so bitter as that; she was where she could not measure her words. Perhaps his face paled a little; in the faint light she could not see the change of colour. His voice did not change.

"What new has brought that up?"

"Nothing new. Something old. O Basil--his sister has been here to-day to see me."

"Has she?" His voice did change a little then. "What did she come for?"

"I don't know. And _he_ will be here, perhaps, by and by. O Basil, do you know who it is? And what shall I do?"

Diana had sprung up from her chair and dropped down on the floor by her husband's side, and hid her face in her hands on his knee. His hand pa.s.sed tenderly, sorrowfully, over the beautiful hair, which lay in disordered, bright, soft ma.s.ses over head and neck. For a moment he did not speak.

"Basil--do you know who it is?"

"I know."

"What shall I do?"

"What do you want to do, Diana?"

"Right"--she said, gasping, without looking up.

"I am sure of it!" he said tenderly. "Well, then--the only way is, to go on and do right, Diana."

"But how can I? how shall I? Suppose he comes? O Basil, it was all a mistake; he wrote, and mother kept back the letters, and I never got them; he sent them, and I never got them; and I thought he was not true and it did not matter what I did, and I honoured you above everything, Basil--and so--and so--I did what I did"--

"What cannot be undone."

"No--" she said, shivering.

He pa.s.sed his hands again over her soft hair, and bent down and kissed it.

"You honour yourself, too, Diana, as well as me."

"Yes--" she said, under breath.

"And you honour our G.o.d, who has let all this come upon us both?"

"But, O Basil! how could he? how could he?"

"I don't know."

"And yet you say he is good?"

"And so you say too. The only good; the utterly, perfectly good; who loves his people, and keeps his promises, and who has said that all things shall work together for the good of those that love him."

"How can such a thing as this?" she said faintly.

"Suppose you and I cannot see how? Then faith comes in and believes it without seeing. We shall see by and by."

"But Basil--suppose--Evan--comes?"

"Well?"

"Suppose--he came--here?"

"Well, Diana?"

She was silent then, but she shook and trembled and writhed. Her head was still where she had laid it; her face hidden.

"You are going through as great a trial, my poor wife, as almost ever falls to the lot of a mortal. But you will go through it, and come out from it; and then it will be found to have been 'unto praise and honour and glory'--by and by."

"O how can you tell?"

"I trust in G.o.d. And I trust you."

"But I think he will come--here to Pleasant Valley, I mean. And if he comes--here, to this house, I mean"--

"What then?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"About seeing him?"

"Yes."

"What you like best to do, Diana."

"Basil--he does not know."

"What does he not know?"

"About the letters or anything. He has never heard--never a word from me."

"There was an understanding between you before he went away?"

"Oh yes!"

Both were silent again for a time; silent and still. Then Diana spoke timidly:

"Do you think it would be wrong for him to know?"