'At war with ourselves, means the best happiness we can have.' It suited her, frail as her health was, and her wisdom striving to the spiritual of happiness.

War with herself was far from happiness in the bosom of Diana.

She wanted external life, action, fields for energies, to vary the struggle.

It fretted and rendered her ill at ease.

In her solitary rides with Sir Lukin through a long winter season, she appalled that excellent but conventionally-minded gentleman by starting, nay supporting, theories next to profane in the consideration of a land-owner.