Then--by an immediate revulsion--the thought of
Alicia was a thought of deliverance. Gone?--gone from between them?--the
flaunting, triumphant, heartless face?
Suddenly it seemed to Diana that she was there beside him, in the
darkened room--that he heard her, and looked up.
"Diana!"
"Oliver!" She knelt beside him--she raised his head on her breast--she
whispered to him; and at last he slept. Then hostile forms crowded about
her, forbidding her, driving her away--even Sir James Chide--in
the name of her own youth. And she heard her own answer: "Dear
friend!--think!--remember! Let me stay!--let me stay! Am I not the child
of sorrow? Here is my natural place--my only joy."
And she broke down into bitter helpless tears, pleading, it seemed, with
things and persons inexorable.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, in Beechcote village, that night, a man slept lightly,
thinking of Diana. Hugh Roughsedge, bronzed and full of honors, a man
developed and matured, with the future in his hands, had returned that
afternoon to his old home.
CHAPTER XXIII
"How is she?"
Mrs. Colwood shook her head sadly.
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