But when Diana rejoiced that such days were done, the old woman gave a tolerant: "Noa--noa! They were none so bad--were t' Vavasours.

Only they war no good at heirin." "Airing ?" said Diana, mystified.
"Heirin," repeated Betty Dyson, emphatically.

"Theer was old Squire Henry--wi' noabody to follow 'im--an' Mr.Edward noa better--and now thissun, wi nobbut lasses.

Noa--they war noa good at heirin--moor's t' pity." Then she looked slyly at her companion: "An' yo', miss?
yo'll be gettin' married one o' these days, I'll uphowd yer." Diana colored and laughed.
"Ay," said the old woman, laughing too, with the merriment of a girl.
"Sweethearts is noa good--but you mun ha' a sweetheart!" Diana fled, pursued by Betty's raillery, and then by the thought of this lonely laughing woman, often tormented by pain, standing on the brink of ugly death, and yet turning back to look with this merry indulgent eye upon the past; and on this dingy old world, in which she had played so ragged and limping a part.

Yet clearly she would play it again if she could--so sweet is mere life!--and so hard to silence in the breast.
Diana walked quickly through the woods, the prey of one of those vague storms of feeling which test and stretch the soul of youth.
To what horrors had she been listening ?--the suffering of the blinded road-mender--the grotesque and hideous death of the young laborer in his full strength--the griefs of a childless and penniless old woman?
Yet life had somehow engulfed the horrors; and had spread its quiet waves above them, under a pale, late-born sunshine.