As soon as Parliament began she had promised to do some
secretarial work for Marsham on two or three mornings a week.
"I saw her last week," said Marsham. "She always asks after you."
"I am so glad! I fell in love with her. Surely"--Diana
hesitated--"surely--some day--she will marry Mr. Frobisher?"
Marsham shook his head.
"I think she feels herself too frail."
Diana remembered that little scene of intimacy--of tenderness--and
Marsham's words stirred about her, as it were, winds of sadness and
renunciation. She shivered under them a little, feeling, almost
guiltily, the glow of her own life, the passion of her own hopes.
Marsham watched her as she sat on the other side of the fire, her
beautiful head a little bent and pensive, the firelight playing on the
oval of her cheek. How glad he was that he had not spoken!--that the
barrier between them still held. A man may find heaven or hell on the
other side of it. But merely to have crossed it makes life the poorer.
One more of the great, the irrevocable moments spent and done--yielded
to devouring time. He hugged the thought that it was still before him.
The very timidity and anxiety he felt were delightful to him; he had
never felt them before.
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