rshadow her, like a
cloud tangled in the woods of spring. Mrs. Colwood could only suppose
that these times of silence and eclipse were connected in some way with
her father and her loss of him. But whenever they occurred, Mrs. Colwood
found her own mind invincibly recalled to that name on the box of
papers, which still haunted her, still brought with it a vague sense of
something painful and harrowing--a breath of desolation, in strange
harmony, it often seemed, with certain looks and moods of Diana. But
Mrs. Colwood searched her memory in vain. And, indeed, after a little
while, some imperious instinct even forbade her the search--so rapid and
strong was the growth of sympathy with the young life which had called
her to its aid.

* * * * *

The day of the Marsham visit arrived--a January afternoon clear and
frosty. In the morning before they were to start, Diana seemed to be
often closeted with her maid, and once in passing Miss Mallory's open
door, her companion could not help seeing a consultation going on, and a
snowy white dress, with black ribbons, lying on the bed. Heretofore
Diana had only appeared in black, the strict black which French
dressmakers understand, for it was little more than a year since her
father's death. The thought of seeing her in white stirred Mrs.
Colwood's expectations.

Tallyn Hall was eight miles from Beechcote. The ladies were to drive,
but in order to show Mrs. Colwood something of the country, Diana
decreed that they should walk up to the downs by a field path, meeting
the carriage which bore their luggage at a convenient point on the
main road.

The day was a day of beauty--the trees and grass lightly rimed, the air
sparkling and translucent. Nature was held in the rest of winter; but
beneath the outward stillness, one caught as it were the strong
heart-beat of the mighty mother. Diana climbed the steep down without a
pause, save when she turned round from time to time to help her
companion. Her slight firm frame, the graceful decision of her
movements, the absence of all stress and effort showed a creature
accustomed to exercise and open air; Mrs. Colwood, the frail
Anglo-Indian to whom walking was a task, tried to rival her in vain; and
Diana was soon full of apologies and remorse for having tempted her to
the climb.

"Please!--please!"--the little lady panted, as they reached the
top--"wasn't this worth it?"

For they stood in one of the famo