hadows of
the rushing water, over which here and there still hung bands of
morning mist; she heard the lap of the waves upon the shore as they
went by; and it was to her as if she had escaped from danger and
perplexity into another world, where sorrow might be, indeed, but from
which confusion and fear were banished.

The baby slept on, as if she had been broken off her rest by the
novelties and inconveniences of travelling, and were making up for lost
time; and Diana sat on the threshold of her door and thought. The lull
was inexpressibly sweet, after the storm that had tossed her hither. It
gave her repose just to remember that Evan could not find her out--and
that Basil would leave her alone. Yes, both thoughts came in for a
share in the deep-drawn breaths of relief which from time to time wrung
themselves from Diana's breast. She knew it; she could not help it; and
she soon forgot her husband in thinking of her lover. It seemed to her
she might allow herself that indulgence now; now when she had put a
gulf between them which he could not bridge over, and she would not;
now when she had brought a separation between them which must forever
be final. For she would never see him again. Surely now she might think
of him, and let fancy taste the sweet bitter drops that memory would
distil for her. Diana went back to the old time and lived in it for
hours, till the baby awoke and claimed her; and even then she went on
with her dream. She dreamed all day.

Next morning early, before she was awake, there came a little
imperative tap at her door. Diana sprang up and opened it.

"I am going to take my bath," said her hostess. "Here's a bathing
dress--put it on and come along."

"Now?" said Diana doubtfully.

"Why, of course now! Now's the time. Nobody'll see you, child; and if
they do, it won't matter. Hundreds would see you if you were at Long
Branch or Newport. Come along; you want bracing."

I wonder if I do, thought Diana, as she clothed herself in the loose
gown of brown mohair; then slipped out after her hostess. If she did,
she immediately confessed to herself, this was the thing to give it.
The sun was not yet up; the morning air crisp and fresh and delicious;
the water rolling gently in from the Narrows again, in a mighty tide,
but with no wind, so sending up only little waves to the beach;
however, they looked somewhat formidable to Diana.

"How far do you go in?" she asked.

"As far as I can. I can't swim,