"You _are_ there, my darling," he said, putting her gently into the easy-chair she had disregarded. "Those who trust in him, his hand never lets go. They may seem to themselves to lose their standing--they may not feel the ground under their feet--but he knows; and he will not let them fall. If they hold fast to him, Diana." "Basil, you don't know the whole." "Do you want to tell me?" Her voice was abrupt and hoarse; 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 passed tenderly, sorrowfully, over the beautiful hair, which lay in disordered, bright, soft masses 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 passed 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 God, 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?"