Muriel Colwood, watching her face, could hardly restrain herself.  But the moment for which her whole being was waiting in a tension scarcely to be borne had not yet come.  She chastened and rebuked her own dread.

They talked a little of the future.  Diana, in a blessed fatigue, threw herself back in her chair, and chattered softly, listening now and then for the sounds of the piano in the room below, and evidently relieved whenever, after a silence, fresh fragments from some comic opera of the day, much belied in the playing, penetrated to the upper floor.  Meanwhile, neither of them spoke of Fanny Merton.  Diana, with a laugh, repeated Marsham’s proposal for a six weeks’ engagement.  That was absurd!  But, after all, it could not be very long.  She hoped Oliver would be content to keep Beechcote.  They could, of course, always spend a good deal of time with Lady Lucy.

And in mentioning that name she showed not the smallest misgiving, not a trace of uneasiness, while every time it was uttered it pricked the shrinking sense of her companion.  Mrs. Colwood had not watched and listened during her Tallyn visit for nothing.

At last a clock struck down-stairs, and a door opened.  Diana sprang up.

“Time to dress!  And I’ve left Fanny alone all this while!”

She hurried toward the door; then turned back.

“Please!—­I’m not going to tell Fanny just yet.  Neither Fanny nor any one—­till Lady Lucy knows.  What happened after we went away?  Was Fanny amused?”

“Very much, I should say.”

“She made friends with Miss Drake?”

“They were inseparable, till Miss Drake departed.”

Diana laughed.

“How odd!  That I should never have prophesied.  And Mr. Birch?  I needn’t have him to lunch again, need I?”

“Miss Merton invited him to tea—­on Saturday.”

Diana reddened.

“Must I—!” she said, impetuously; then stopped herself, and opened the door.

Outside, Fanny Merton was just mounting the stairs, a candle in her hand.  She stopped in astonishment at the sight of Diana.

“Diana! where have you been all this time?”

“Only talking to Muriel.  We heard you playing; so we thought you weren’t dull,” said Diana, rather penitently.

“I was only playing till you came in,” was the sharp reply.  “When did Mr. Marsham go?”

Diana by this time was crossing the landing to the door of her room, with Fanny behind her.

“Oh, quite an hour ago.  Hadn’t we better dress?  Dinner will be ready directly.”

Fanny took no notice.  She entered her cousin’s room, in Diana’s wake.

“Well?” she said, interrogatively.  She leaned her back against the wardrobe, and folded her arms.

Diana turned.  She met Fanny’s black eyes, sparkling with excitement.

“I’ll give you my news at dinner,” said Diana, flushing against her will.  “And I want to know how you liked Miss Drake.”