"It wont ease me. But you must know it. You ought to know. O, Basil, I made such a mistake when I married you!"—
She did not mean to say anything so bitter as that; she was where she could not measure her words. Perhaps his face paled a little; in the faint light she could not see the change of colour. His voice did not change.
"What new has brought that up?"
"Nothing new. Something old. O Basil—his sister has been here to-day to see me."
"Has she?" His voice did change a little then. "What did she come for?"
"I don't know. And he will be here, perhaps, by and by. O Basil, do you know who it is? And what shall I do?"
Diana had sprung up from her chair and dropped down on the floor by her husband's side, and hid her face in her hands on his knee. His hand passed tenderly, sorrowfully, over the beautiful hair, which lay in disordered, bright, soft masses over head and neck. For a moment he did not speak.
"Basil—do you know who it is?"
"I know."
"What shall I do?"