As Diana reached her room she drew Mrs. Colwood in with her—­but not, it seemed, for purposes of conversation.  She stood absently by the fire taking off her bracelets and necklace.  Mrs. Colwood made a few remarks about the evening and the guests, with little response, and presently wondered why she was detained.  At last Diana put up her hands, and smoothed back the hair from her temples with a long sigh.  Then she laid a sudden grasp upon Mrs. Colwood, and looked earnestly and imploringly into her face.

“Will you—­please—­call me Diana?  And—­and—­will you kiss me?”

She humbly stooped her head.  Mrs. Colwood, much touched, threw her arms around her, and kissed her heartily.  Then a few warm words fell from her—­as to the scene of the evening.  Diana withdrew herself at once, shivering a little.

“Oh, I want papa!” she said—­“I want him so much!”

And she hid her eyes against the mantel-piece.

Mrs. Colwood soothed her affectionately, perhaps expecting some outburst of confidence, which, however, did not come.  Diana said a quiet “good-night,” and they parted.

But it was long before Mrs. Colwood could sleep.  Was the emotion she had just witnessed—­flinging itself geyserlike into sight, only to sink back as swiftly out of ken—­was it an effect of the past or an omen of the future?  The longing expressed in the girl’s heart and voice, after the brave show she had made—­had it overpowered her just because she felt herself alone, without natural protectors, on the brink of her woman’s destiny?

CHAPTER IV

The next day, when Diana looked out from her window, she saw a large and dreary park wrapped in scudding rain which promised evil things for the shooting-party of the day.  Mr. Marsham senior had apparently laid out his park and grounds on the same principles as those on which he had built his house.  Everything was large and expensive.  The woods and plantations were kept to a nicety; not a twig was out of place.  Enormous cost had been incurred in the planting of rare evergreens; full-grown trees had been transplanted wholesale from a distance, and still wore in many cases a sickly and invalided air; and elaborate contrasts in dark and light foliage had been arranged by the landscape-gardener employed.  Dark plantations had a light border—­light plantations a dark one.  A lake or large pond, with concrete banks and two artificial islands, held the centre of the park, and on the monotonous stretches of immaculate grass there were deer to be seen wherever anybody could reasonably expect them.