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Diana

<h3 id="id01055" style="margin-top: 3em">CHAPTER X.</h3> <h3 id="id01056" style="margin-top: 3em">IN SUGAR.</h3> Dinner was over, and talk ceased, for Mrs. Starling went to dress herself for the sewing society, and presently drove off with Prince. Diana's motions then became as swift as they were noiseless. Her kitchen was in a state of perfected order and propriety. She went to dress herself then; a modest dressing, for business, and kitchen business, too, must claim her all the afternoon; but it is possible to combine two effects in one's toilet; and if you had seen Diana that day, you would have comprehended the proposition. A common print gown, clean and summery-looking, showed her soft outlines at least as well as a more modish affair would; and the sleeves rolled up to the elbows revealed Diana's beautiful arms. I am bound to confess she had chosen a white apron in defiance of possible fruit stains; and the dark hair tucked away behind her ears gave the whole fair cheek and temple to view; fair and delicate in contour, and coloured with the very hues of a perfect physical condition. I think no man but would like to see his future wife present such a picture of womanly beauty and housewifely efficiency as Diana was that day. And the best was, she did not know it. She went about her work. Doubtless she had a sense that interruptions might come that afternoon; however, that changed nothing. She had moulded her bread and put it in the pans and got it out of the way; and now the berries were brought out of the pantry, and the preserving kettle went on the fire, and Diana's fingers were soon red with the ripe wine of the fruit. All the time she had her ears open for the sound of a horse's hoofs upon the road; it had not come, so that a quick step outside startled her, and then the figure of Mr. Knowlton in the doorway took her by surprise. Certainly she had been expecting him all the afternoon; but now, whether it were the surprise or somewhat else, Diana's face flushed to the most lovely rose. Yet she went to meet him with simple frankness. "I've not a hand to give you!" she said. "Not a hand!" he echoed. "What a mercy it is that I am independent of hands. Yesterday I should have been in despair;—to-day"— "You must not abuse your privileges," said Diana, trying to free herself. "And O, Mr. Knowlton, I have a great deal of work to do." "So have I," said he, holding her fast; and indeed she was too pretty a possession to be easily let go. "Whole loads of talking, and no end of arrangements.—Di, I never saw you with such a charming colour. My beauty! Do you know what a beauty you are?" "I am glad you think so!" she said. "Think so? Wait till you are my wife, and I can dress you to please myself. I think you will be a very princess of loveliness." "In the meantime, Mr. Knowlton, what do you think of letting me finish my berries?" "Berries?" he said, laughing. "Tell me first, Di, what do you think of me?" "Inconvenient," said Diana. "And I think, presuming. I must finish my berries, Mr. Knowlton." "Evan," he said. "Well; but let me do my work." "Do your work?—My darling! How am I going to talk to you, if you are going into your work? However, in consideration of yesterday—you may." "What made you come to this door?" Diana asked. "I knew you were here." "You would have been much more likely to find mother, most days." "Ah, but I met Prince, as I came along, with Mrs. Starling behind him; and then I thought"— "What?" "I remembered," said Knowlton, laughing, "that the same person cannot be in two places at once!" The comfort of this fact being upon them, the two took advantage of it. Mr. Knowlton drew his chair close to the table over which Diana's fingers were so busy; and a talk began, which in the range and variety and arbitrary introduction of its topics, it would be in vain to try to follow. Through it all Diana's work went on, except now and then when her fingers made an involuntary pause. The berries were picked over, and weighed, and put over the fire, and watched and tended there; while the tall form of the young officer stood beside Diana as she handled her skimmer, and went back and forth as she went, helping her to carry her jars of sweetmeat. "Have you told your mother?" Mr. Knowlton asked. "No." "Why not?" he asked quickly. "I did not think it was a good time, last night or this morning." "Does she not like me?" "I think she wants to put some one else in your place, Evan." "Who?" he asked instantly. "Nobody you need fear," said Diana, laughing. "Nobody I like." "Is there anybody you do like?" "Plenty of people—that I like a little." "How much do you like me, Diana?" She lifted her eyes and looked at him; calm, large, grey eyes, into which there had come a new depth since yesterday and an added light. She looked at him a moment, and dropped them in silence. "Well?" said he eagerly. "Why don't you speak?" "I cannot," said Diana. "Why? I can speak to you." "I suppose people are different," said Diana. "And I am a woman." "Well, what then?" She turned away, with the shyest, sweetest grace of reserve; turned away to her fruit, quite naturally; there was no shadow of affectation, nor even of consciousness. But her eyes did not look up again; and Mr. Knowlton's eyes had no interruption. "Di, where do you think we shall go when we are married?" "I don't know," she said simply; and the tone of her voice said that she did not care. It was as quiet as the harebells when no wind is blowing. "And I don't know!" Knowlton echoed with a half-sigh. "I don't know where I am going myself. But I shall know in a day or two. Can you be ready in a week, do you think, Diana?" "Shall you have to go so soon as that?" she asked with a startled look up. "Pretty near. What of that? You are going with me. It may be to some rough out-of-the-way place; we never can tell; you know we are a sort of football for Uncle Sam to toss about as he pleases; but you are not afraid of being a soldier's wife, Di?" She looked at him without speaking; a look clear and quiet and glad, like her voice when she spoke. So full of the thought of the reality he suggested, evidently, that she never perceived the occasion for a blush. Her eyes went through him, to the rough country or the frontier post where she could share—and annul—all his harsh experiences. "What sort of places are those where you might go, Evan?" "Nearly all sorts on the face of the earth, my beauty. I might be sent to the neighbourhood of one of the great cities; we should have a good time then, Di! I would wait for nothing; I could come and fetch you just as soon as I could get a furlough of a day or two. But they are apt to send us, the young officers, to the hardest places; posts beyond civilisation, out west to the frontier, or south to Texas, or across to the Pacific coast." "California!" Diana cried. "California; or Oregon; or Arizona. Yes; why?" "California is very far off." "Rather," said Knowlton, with a half sigh again. "It don't make any difference, if we were once there, Diana." Diana looked thoughtful. It had never occurred to her, before this time, to wish that the country were not so extended; and certainly not to fancy that California and she had any interest in common. Lo, now it might be. "How soon must you go, Evan?" she asked, as thoughts of longitude and latitude began to deepen the cloud shadow which had just touched her. "A few days—a week or two more." "Is that all?" "Can you go with me?" he whispered, bending forward to pick up a few of her berries, for the taste of which he certainly did not care at that moment. And she whispered, "No." "Can't you?" "You know it's impossible, Evan." "Then I must go by myself," he said, in the same half breath, stooping his head still so near that a half breath could be heard; and his hair, quite emancipated from the regulation cut, touched Diana's cheek. "I don't know how I can! But, Di—if I can get a furlough at Christmas and come for you—will you be ready then?" She whispered, "Yes." "That is, supposing I am in any place that I can take you to," he went on, after a hearty endorsement of the contract just made. "It is quite possible I may not be! But I won't borrow trouble. This is the first trouble I ever had in my life, Di, leaving you." "They say prosperity makes people proud," she said, with an arch glance at him. "'Proud?" echoed Knowlton. "Yes, I am proud. I have a right to be proud. I do not think, Diana, there is such a pearl in all the waters of Arabia as I shall wear on my hand. I do not believe there is a rose to equal you in all the gardens of the world. Look up, my beauty, and let me see you. I sha'n't have the chance pretty soon." And yielding to the light touch of his fingers under her chin, caressing and persuading, Diana's face was lifted to view. It was like a pearl, for the childlike purity of all its lines; it was like enough a rose, too; like an opening rose, for the matter of that. Her thoughts went back to the elegance of Mrs. Reverdy and Gertrude Masters, and she wondered in herself at Mr. Knowlton's judgment of her; but there was too much of Diana ever to depreciate herself unworthily. She said nothing. "I wonder what will become you best?" said Evan in a very satisfied tone. "Become me?" said Diana lifting her eyes. "Yes. What's your colour?" "I am sure I don't know," said Diana, laughing. "No one in particular, I guess." "Wear everything, can you? I shouldn't wonder! But I think I should like you in white. That's cold for winter—in some regions. I think I should like you in—let me see—show me your eyes again, Diana. If you wear so much rose in your cheeks, my darling," said he, kissing first one and then the other, "I should be safe to get you green. You will be lovely in blue. But of all, except white, I think I should like you, Diana, in royal red." "I thought purple was the colour of kings and queens," Diana remarked, trying to get back to her berries. "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. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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