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 God. 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?" Her husband delayed his answer a little; truly, if Diana had something to suffer, so had he; and I suppose there was somewhat of a struggle in his own mind to be won through; however, the answer when it came was a quiet negative. "May I write and tell him?" He bent down and kissed her fingers as he replied--"I will." "O Basil," said the woman at his feet, "I have wished I could die a thousand times!--and I am well and strong, and I cannot die." "No," he said gravely; "we must not run away from our work." "Work!" said Diana, sitting back now and looking up at him;--"what work?" "The work our Master has given us to do to glorify him. To fight with evil and overcome it; to endure temptation, and baffle it; to carry our banner of salvation through the thick of the smoke and the fire, and never let it fall." "I am so weak, I cannot fight." "The fight of faith you can. The only sort of fighting that can prevail. Faith lays hold of Christ's strength, and so comes off more than conqueror. All you can do, is to hold fast to him." "O Basil! why does he let such things happen? why does he let such things happen? Here is my life broken--and yours; both broken and ruined." "No," the minister answered quietly,--"not mine, nor yours. Broken, if you will, but not ruined. Neither yours nor mine, Diana. With the love of Christ in our hearts, that can never be. He will not let it be." "It is all ruined," said Diana; "it is all ruined. I am full of evil thoughts, and no good left. I have wished to die, and I have wanted to run away--I felt as if I must"-- "But instead of dying or running away, you have stood nobly and bravely to your post of suffering. Wait and trust. The Lord means good to us yet." "What possible good?" "Perhaps, that being stripped of all else, we may come to know him." "Is it necessary that people should be stripped of all before they can do that?" "Sometimes."