THE PARTY.
The morning of the next day was spent in still further visits to still
more mills. Mr. Brandt was much struck with the direction his guests'
attention seemed to take.
"You are very fond of machinery," he remarked to Diana.
"Yes--I don't know much about it," she answered.
"Surely that is not true after these two or three days' work?"
"I knew _nothing_ about it before. Yes, I do enjoy it, Mr. Brandt, with
you and Mr. Masters to explain things to me; but it is the people that
interest me most."
"The people!"--
"The mill hands?" Mrs. Brandt asked.
"Yes; the mill hands."
"What _can_ you find interesting in them? I am half afraid of them, for
my part."
"They look as if they wanted friends so much."
"Friends?" repeated Mrs. Brandt. "I suppose they have friends among
themselves. Why should not they? Well, it is time you had a change of
society, I think. My husband has taken you among the mill people for
two days; now to-night I will introduce you to a different set; some of
your church people. I want you to take rest this afternoon, my dear
Mrs. Masters--now won't you!--so as to be able to enjoy the evening. I
am sure Brandt has fatigued you to death. I never can stand going up
and down those stairs in the mills, and standing about; it kills me."
"I wonder how they bear standing at the looms or the other machines all
day?"
"They? O, they are accustomed to it, I suppose. An hour or two of it
breaks _me_ down. Now rest, will you? It's quite a great occasion
to-night. One of our greatest men among the millowners, and one of the
pillars of the church you and Mr. Masters are coming to take care of,
gives an entertainment to his daughter to-night; a bride--married
lately--just come home and just going away again. You'll see all our
best people. Now please go and rest."
Diana went to her room and rested, outwardly. In her mind thoughts were
very busy. And when it was time to dress, they were hardly diverted
from their subjects. It was with a sort of unconscious instinct that
Diana threw her beautiful hair into the wavy masses and coils which
were more graceful than she knew and crowned her so royally; and in the
like manner that she put on a dress of soft white muslin. It had no
adornment other than the lace which finished it at throat and wrists;
she looked most like a bride herself. So Basil thought, when he came to
fetch her; though he did not say his thought, fearing lest he might
graze something in her mind which would pain her. He often withheld
words for such a reason.
"Will it do?" said Diana, seeing him look at her.
"Too good for the occasion!" said Basil, shaking his head.
"Too much dressed?" said Diana. "I thought I must dress as much as I
could. Is it too much, Basil?"
"Nobody else will think so," said the minister with a queer smile.
"Do _you_ think so?"
"You are just as you ought to be. All the same, it is beyond the
company. Never mind. Come!"
Downstairs another sort of criticism.
"My dear Mrs. Masters! Not a bit of colour! You will be taken for the
bride yourself. All in white, except your beautiful hair! Wait, that
won't do; let me try if I can't improve things a little--do you
mind?--Just let me see how this will look." Diana submitted patiently,
and Mrs. Brandt officiously fastened a knot of blue ribband in her
bright hair. She was greatly pleased with the effect, which Diana could
not see. However, when they had reached the house they were going to,
and leaving the dressing-room Diana took her husband's arm to go down
to the company, he detained her to let Mr. and Mrs. Brandt pass on
before, and then with a quick and quiet touch of his fingers removed
the blue bow and put it in his pocket.
"Basil!" said Diana, smiling,--"she will miss it."
"So shall I. It commonized the whole thing."
There was nothing common left, as every one instantly recognised who
saw Diana that evening. A presence of such dignified grace, a face of
such lofty and yet innocent beauty, so sweet a movement and manner,
nobody there knew anything like it in Mainbridge. On the other hand, it
was Diana's first experience of a party beyond the style and degree of
Pleasant Valley parties. She found immediately that she was by much the
plainest dressed woman in the company; but she forgot to think of the
dresses, the people struck her with so much surprise.
Of course everybody was introduced to her; and everybody said the same
things.
They hoped she liked Mainbridge; they hoped she was coming to live
among them; Mr. Masters was coming to the church, wasn't he? and how
did he like the looks of the place?
"You see the best part of the church here to-night," remarked one stout
elderly lady in a black silk and with flowers in her cap; a very
well-to-do, puffy old lady;--"you see just the best of them, and _all_
the best!"
"What do you call the best part of a church?" Diana asked, looking
round the room.
"Well, you see them before you. There is Mr. Waters standing by the
piano--he's the wealthiest man in Mainbridge; a very wealthy man. The
one with his head a little bald, speaking just now to Mrs. Brandt, is
one of our elders; he's pretty comfortable too; a beautiful place he
has--have you seen it? No? You ought to have gone there to see his
flowers; the grounds are beautiful, laid out with so much taste. But if
you are fond of flowers, you should go to see Mr. Tillery's
greenhouses. That is Mr. Tillery in the corner, between the two young
ladies in white. Mr. Tillery's greenhouses extend half a mile, or
would, if they were set in a line, you know."
"Are there any poor people in the church?"
"Poor people?" The article called for seemed to be rare. "Poor people?
There are a few, I believe. Not many; the poor people go to the mission
chapel. O, we support a mission; that's down in the mill quarter, where
the hands live, I mean"--
"And O, Mrs. Masters," a young lady struck in here, "you are coming,
aren't you? I have fallen in love with you, and I want you to come. And
O, I want you to tell me one thing--is Mr. Masters very strict?"
"About what?" said Diana, smiling.
"About anything."
"Yes; he is very strict about telling the truth."
"O, of course; but I mean about other things; what one may do or mayn't
do. Is he strict?"
"Not any stricter than his Master."
"His master? who's that? But I mean,--does he make a fuss about
dancing?"
"I never saw Mr. Masters make a fuss about anything."
"O, delightful! then he don't mind? You know, Mrs. Masters, the Bible
says David danced."
"The Bible tells why he danced, too," said Diana, wholly unable to keep
her gravity.
"Does it? I don't recollect. And O, Mrs. Masters, I want to know
another thing; does Mr. Masters use the Episcopal form in marrying
people?"
"You are concerned in the question?"
"O yes. I might be, you know, one of these days; and I always think the
Episcopal form is so dignified and graceful; the ring and all that; the
Presbyterian form is so _tucky_ and ugly. O, Mrs. Masters, don't you
like a form for everything?"
Before Diana could return an answer to this somewhat comprehensive
question, a slight sound caused her to forget both question and speaker
and the place where she was, as utterly as if they all had been swept
from the sphere of the actual. It belonged to the sweet poise and calm
of her heart and life that she was able to keep still as she was and
make no movement and give no sign. The sound she had heard was a little
running laugh; she thought it came from the next room; yet she did not
turn her head to look that way, though it could have been uttered, she
knew, from no throat but one. The young lady friend reiterated the
question in which she was interested, and Diana answered; I do not know
how, nor did she; while she was at the same time collecting her forces
and reviewing them for the coming skirmish with circumstances. Evan
Knowlton was here at Mainbridge. How could it possibly be? And even as
the thought went through her, came that laugh again.
Diana's mind began to be in a great state of confusion, which presently
concentred itself upon the one point of keeping a calm and unmoved
exterior. And to her surprise, this became easy. The confusion
subsided, like the vibrations of harp-strings which have been brushed
by a harsh hand; only her heart beat a little, waiting for the coming
encounter.
"Shall I take you in to see the bride?" Mr. Brandt here presented
himself, offering his services. And Diana rose without hesitation and
put her arm in his. She was glad, however, that their progress through
the company was slow; she hoped Evan would see before he had to speak
to her. She herself felt ready for anything.
It was with a strange feeling, nevertheless, that she went through the
introduction to the pale lady of fashion who was Evan's second choice.
Beyond white silk and diamonds and a rather delicate appearance, Diana
could in that moment discern nothing. Her senses did not seem to serve
her well. The lady was very much in request besides, amid her old
friends and acquaintances, and there was no chance to talk to her. Then
followed the introduction to the bridegroom. He was going to content
himself with a bow, but Diana stretched out her hand and gave his a
warm grasp. "I have seen Captain Knowlton before,"--she said simply.
She was perfectly quiet now, but she saw that he was not; and that he
was willing to take refuge with other claimants upon his attention to
escape any particular words with her. She stepped back, and gradually
got behind people, where the sight of her could not distress him. It
had distressed him, she had seen that. Was it on her account? or on his
own? Gradually, watching her chances, she was able to work her way back
into the other room, which was comparatively empty; and there she sat
down at a table covered with photographs. She would go away, she
thought, as soon as it could gracefully be done. And yet, she would
have liked to speak a few words with Evan, this last time they might
ever be together. What made him embarrassed in meeting her? With his
bride just beside him, that ought not to be, she thought.
The company had almost all crowded into the other room about the bride,
and were fully occupied with her; and Diana was alone. She turned over
the photographs and reviewed the kings and queens of Europe, with no
sort of intelligence as to their families or nationalities,
mechanically, just to cover her abstraction, and to seem to be doing
something. Then suddenly she knew that Evan was beside her. He had come
round and entered by the door from the hall; and now they both stood
together for a moment, shielded by a corner of the partition wall
between the rooms. Diana had risen.
"This is a very painful meeting"--Captain Knowlton said, after a
silence which would have been longer if he had dared to let it be so.
"No"--said Diana, looking at him with as clear and fair a brow as if
she had been the moon goddess whose name she bore; and her voice was
very sweet. "Not painful, Evan; why should it be? I am glad to see you
again."
"I didn't know you were here"--he went on hurriedly, in evident great
perturbation.
"And we did not know you were here. I had no notion of it--till I heard
your voice in the next room. I knew it instantly."
"I would have spared you this, if I could have foreseen it."
"Spared me what?"
"All this,--this pain,--I know it must be pain to you.--I did not
anticipate it."
"Why should it be pain to me?" inquired Diana steadily.
"I know your feeling--I would not have brought Clara into your
presence"--
"I am very glad to have seen her," said Diana in the same quiet way,
looking at Evan fixedly. "I should have been glad to see more of her,
and learn to know her. I could scarcely speak to her for the crowd
around."
"Yes, she is a great favourite, and everybody is eager to see her
before she goes."
"You are going away soon?"
"O yes!--to my post."
"I hope she will make you happy, Evan," Diana said gently and cordially.
"You are very good, I am sure. I don't want you to think, Diana, that
I--that I, in fact, have forgotten anything"--
"You cannot forget too soon," she answered, smiling, "everything that
Clara would not wish you to remember."
"A fellow is so awfully lonely out there on the frontiers"--he said,
mumbling his words through his moustache in a peculiar way.
"You will not be lonely now, I hope."
"You see, Di, you were lost to me. If I could only think of you as
happy"--
"You may."
"Happy?" he repeated, looking at her. He had avoided her eyes until now.
"Yes."
"Then _you_ have forgotten?"
"One does not forget," said Diana, with again a grave smile. "But I
have ceased to look back sorrowfully."
"But--you are married"--
Then light flushed into Diana's face. She understood Evan's allusion.
"Yes," she said,--"to somebody who has my whole heart."
"But--you are married to Mr. Masters?"--he went on incredulously.
"Certainly. And I love my husband with all the strength there is in me
to love. I hope your wife will love you as well," she added with
another smile, a different one, which was exceedingly aggravating to
the young man. No other lips could wreathe so with such a mingling of
softness and strength, love, and--yes, happiness. Captain Knowlton had
seen smiles like that upon those lips once, long ago; never a brighter
or more confident one. He felt unaccountably injured.
"You did not speak so when I saw you last," he remarked.
"No. I was a fool," said Diana, with somewhat unreasonable
perverseness. "Or, if I was not a fool, I was weak."
"I see you are strong now," said the young officer bitterly. "I was
never strong; and I am weak still. I have not forgotten, Diana."
"You ought to forget, Evan," she said gently.
"It's impossible!" said he, hastily turning over photographs on the
table.
Diana would have answered, but the opportunity was gone. Other people
came near; the two fell apart from each other, and no more words were
interchanged between them.
It grieved but did not astonish Basil to perceive, when he joined Diana
in their own room that night, that she had been weeping; and it only
grieved him to know that the weeping was renewed in the night. He gave
no sign that he knew it, and Diana thought he was asleep through it
all. Tears were by no means a favourite indulgence with her; this night
the spring of them seemed to be suddenly unsealed, and they flowed fast
and free, and were not to be checked. Neither did Diana quite clearly
know what moved them. She was very sorry for Evan; yes, but these tears
she was shedding were not painful tears. It came home to her, all the
sorrowful waiting months and years that Basil had endured on her
account; but sympathy was not a spring large enough to supply such a
flow. She was glad those months were ended; yet they were not ended,
for Basil did not know the facts she had stated with so much clearness
to his whilome rival; she had not told himself, and he did not guess
them. "He might," said Diana to herself,--"he ought,"--at the same time
she knew now there was something for her to do. How she should do it,
she did not know.