“ I am Diana Ellis. I live at the Manor House, with Mrs. Seaton and Jasper. Mrs. Seaton is the grand lady of the place, and thinks a great deal of the rector. They do religion together; but I don’t see that much good comes of it. Jasper is not a bit religious, and doesn’t pretend to be. And I—I was born in India, and I half believe that I am a heathen. Sometimes I wonder if I have even a soul. Is there any one who could possibly be without a soul?” she asked, looking up eagerly. “Undine wanted one, you know, and it brought her trouble. ”

“ It’s enough to make one wicked; and I want to get far, far away somewhere, only I don’t know where.”
And Diana, who had waxed wrathful in her passionate declamation, ended her speech in a sort of lull of despair.
Half compassionately, half wonderingly did John Carteret look down upon the slight, childish figure, with the hands clasped, and the deep violet eyes gazing up from under their black fringes.
“ Poor child!” he involuntarily ejaculated.
“ I’m not a child,” said Diana, drawing herself up to her full height. “ I shall be eighteen in August.” ”

“ If she could but glide along the mote-built bridge, and lose herself—far, far away among the stars! “O! had I wings like a dove; for then would I flee away and be at rest” The words made the rector’s voice sound almost melodious as he gave out the text;—the wail of a struggling heart longing to surmount its difficulties and trials.
“And be at rest!”
Was every one in the constant turmoil in which she found herself?—in continual warfare, in continual defeat; continually blaming herself and intending to do better, and yet for ever failing? ”

“ My maestro is an Italian, who has lived at Broadmead-for years and years—I don't know for how long. He is growing old now; but he knows all the music in the world, and plays divinely, and never makes mistakes. ”

“ Then, without waiting for an answer, she opened a music book containing one of Pergolesi’s Masses.
“ Do you know this?” she asked. “The signor loves Pergolesi. He plays this ‘Miserere' sometimes, when the people are coming into church. I will play it for you.”
John Carteret moved away from the organ, and Diana sat down; but the notes were mute.
“ Ah!” she said, “you’ve had Phil Amos to blow, and he’s gone to sleep: he always does if one leaves off for a minute. Phil! Phil!” she cried—“wake up, wake up!” ”

“ Mrs. Seaton gave me every one of them. It’s the rocking-chair that Dolly used to have, and the nursery table. I couldn't do without a chair and table.”
“ But why didn't you ask for the piano as well?”
“ Oh, that would have been too much to ask for—the piano is worth so much more. Besides,” added Diana, drawing up her head, I with a little dignified movement, “a piano is a luxury, and one can well do without luxuries.”
Jasper regarded Diana in amazement. Could she be in earnest? ”

“ His sister never comes, and she's none the worse for it. I go every Sunday, and I want to be away all the time; and I never feel so wicked as I do in church. But you will not see the signor and his sister, if you're staying at the rectory: the rector looks down upon them, and so do the people round. They are never asked to the Manor House, or anywhere else, unless the signor is wanted to play. ”