"Purple is poetical. I am certain a dark, rich red would be magnificent on you; for it is you who will beautify the colour, not the colour you. I shall get you the first stuff of that colour I see that is of the right hue." "Pray don't, Evan. Wait," said Diana, flushing more and more. "Wait? I'll not wait a minute longer than till I see it. My beauty! what a delight to get things for you--and with you! Officers' quarters are sorry places sometimes, Diana; but won't it be fun for you and me to work transformations, and make our own world; that is our own home? What does Mrs. Starling think of me?" "I have told her nothing, Evan, yet. She was so busy this morning, I had not a good chance." "I'll confront her when she comes home this evening." "O no, Evan; leave it to me; I want to take a _good_ time. She will not like it much anyhow." "I don't see really how she should. I have sympathy--no, I haven't! I haven't a bit. I am so full of my own side of the question, it is sheer hypocrisy to pretend I have any feeling for anybody else. When will you come down to Elmfield?" "To Elmfield?" said Diana. "To begin to learn to know them all. I want them to know you." "You have not spoken to them about me?" "No," said he, laughing; "but I mean to." "Evan, don't say anything to anybody till mother has been told. Promise me! That would not do." "All's safe yet, Di. But make haste with your revelations; for I shall be here to-morrow night and every night now, and astonish her; and it isn't healthy for some people to be astonished. Besides, Di, my orders will be here in a week or two; and then I must go." "Do you like being under orders?" said Diana innocently. Knowlton's grave face changed again; and laughing, he asked if _she_ did not like it? and how she would do when she would be a soldier's wife, and so under _double_ orders? And he got into such a game of merriment, at her and with her, that Diana did not know what to do with herself or her berries either. How the berries got attended to is a mystery; but it shows that the action of the mind can grow mechanical where it has been very much exercised. It can scarce be said that Diana thought of the blackberries; and yet, the jam was made and the wine prepared for in a most regular and faultless manner; the jars were filled duly, and nothing was burned, and all was done and cleared away before Mrs. Starling came home. Literally; for Mr. Knowlton had been sent away, and Diana had gone up to the sanctuary of her own room. She did not wish to encounter her mother that night. While the dew was not yet off her flowers, she would smell their sweetness alone. CHAPTER XI. A STORM IN SEPTEMBER. Diana was not put to the trial next day of venturing her precious things to harsh handling. A very uncommon thing happened. Mrs. Starling was not well, and kept her bed.