‘Queer,’ said he of the serenest absence of conscience; and that there must be something not, entirely right going on, he strongly inclined to think.

CHAPTER VII

THE CRISIS

It was a confirmed suspicion when he beheld Lord Dannisburgh on the box of a four-in-hand, and the peerless Diana beside him, cockaded lackeys in plain livery and the lady’s maid to the rear.  But Lord Dannisburgh’s visit was a compliment, and the freak of his driving down under the beams of Aurora on a sober Sunday morning capital fun; so with a gaiety that was kept alive for the invalid Emma to partake of it, they rattled away to the heights, and climbed them, and Diana rushed to the arms of her friend, whispering and cooing for pardon if she startled her, guilty of a little whiff of blarney:—­Lord Dannisburgh wanted so much to be introduced to her, and she so much wanted her to know him, and she hoped to be graciously excused for thus bringing them together, ’that she might be chorus to them!’ Chorus was a pretty fiction on the part of the thrilling and topping voice.  She was the very radiant Diana of her earliest opening day, both in look and speech, a queenly comrade, and a spirit leaping and shining like a mountain water.  She did not seduce, she ravished.  The judgement was taken captive and flowed with her.  As to the prank of the visit, Emma heartily enjoyed it and hugged it for a holiday of her own, and doating on the beautiful, darkeyed, fresh creature, who bore the name of the divine Huntress, she thought her a true Dian in stature, step, and attributes, the genius of laughter superadded.  None else on earth so sweetly laughed, none so spontaneously, victoriously provoked the healthful openness.  Her delicious chatter, and her museful sparkle in listening, equally quickened every sense of life.  Adorable as she was to her friend Emma at all times, she that day struck a new fountain in memory.  And it was pleasant to see the great lord’s admiration of this wonder.  One could firmly believe in their friendship, and his winning ideas from the abounding bubbling well.  A recurrent smile beamed on his face when hearing and observing her.  Certain dishes provided at the table were Diana’s favourites, and he relished them, asking for a second help, and remarking that her taste was good in that as in all things.  They lunched, eating like boys.  They walked over the grounds of Copsley, and into the lanes and across the meadows of the cowslip, rattling, chatting, enlivening the frosty air, happy as children biting to the juices of ripe apples off the tree.  But Tony was the tree, the dispenser of the rosy gifts.  She had a moment of reflection, only a moment, and Emma felt the pause as though a cloud had shadowed them and a spirit had been shut away.  Both spoke of their happiness at the kiss of parting.  That melancholy note at the top of the wave to human hearts conscious of its enforced decline was repeated by them, and Diana’s eyelids blinked to dismiss a tear.