t for a long distance,
till, as Joe remarked, they had surveyed the hill pretty well; Diana
conscious all the time that Mr. Knowlton and Gertrude were following in
their wake. That was near enough. She liked it so. She liked it even
that in the crowd and the bustle of packing and hitching horses, and
getting seated, there was no chance for more than a far-off nod and
wave of the hand from the Elmfield parly. They drove off first this
time. And Diana followed at a little distance, driving Prince; Mrs.
Starling declaring herself "tuckered out."

There was no sense of weariness on Diana. Never less in her life. She
was glad the drive was so long; not because she was weary and wanted to
rest, but because every nerve and sense seemed strung to a fine
tension, so that everything that touched them sent waves of melody over
her being. Truly the light was sweet that evening, for any eyes; to
Diana's vision the sunbeams were solid gold, though refined out of all
sordidness, and earth was heaped up and brimming over with riches. The
leaves of the trees on the hill-sides sparkled in the new wealth of
nature; the air scintillated with it; the water was full of it.
Prince's hoofs trod in measure, and the wheels of the waggon moved
rhythmically, and the evening breeze might have been the very spirit of
harmony. The way was long, and before home was reached the light had
faded and the sparkling was gone; but even that was welcome to Diana.
She was glad to have a veil fall, for a while, over the brightness, and
hide even from herself the new world into which she had entered. She
knew it was there, under the veil; the knowledge was enough for the
present.

CHAPTER IX.

MRS. STARLING'S OPINIONS.

It was well dusk when Prince stopped under the elm tree. The sun had
gone down behind the low distant hills, leaving a white glory in all
that region of the heavens; and shadows were settling upon the valleys.
All household wants and proprieties were disarranged; the thing to do
was to bring up arrears as speedily as possible. To this Mrs. Starling
and her daughter addressed themselves. The blackberries were put
carefully away; the table set, supper cooked, for the men must have a
warm supper; and after supper and clearing up there came a lull.

"If it warn't so late," said Mrs. Starling,--"but it _is_ too
late,--I'd go at those berries."

"Mother! Not to-night."

"Well, no; it's 'most too late, as I said; and I _am_ tired. I