New England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Women -- New England -- Fiction
To Diana, all this while, the coming or the going, the solitude or the
company, even the good or ill humours of her mother, seemed to be of
little importance. She lived her own shut-up, deadened, secret life
through it all, and had no nerves of sensation near enough to the
surface to be affected much by what went on outside of her. What though
her mother was all the while in a rasped sort of state? it could not
rasp Diana; she seemed to wear a coat of mail. Neighbours? no
neighbours were anything to her one way or another; if she could be
said to like anything, it was to be quite alone and see and hear
nobody. Her marriage she looked at in the same dull way; with a
thought, so far as she gave it a thought, that in the minister's house
her life would be more quiet, and peace and good-will would replace the
eager disquiet around her which, without minding it, Diana yet
perceived. More quiet and better, she hoped her life would be; her life
and herself; she thought the minister was getting a bad bargain of it,
but since it was his pleasure, she thought it was a good thing for her;
every time she met the gentle kind eyes and felt the warm clasp of his
hand, Diana repeated the assurance to herself. The girl had sunk again
into mental torpor; she did not see nor hear nor feel; she lived along
a mechanical sort of life, having relapsed into her former stunned
condition. Not crushed--there was too much of Diana's nature for one
blow or perhaps many blows to effect that; not beaten down, like some
other characters; she went on her way upright, alert, and strong, doing
and expecting to do the work of life to its utmost measure; all the
same, walking as a ghost might walk through the scenes of his former
existence; with no longer any natural conditions to put her at one with
them, and only conscious of her dead heart. This state of things had
given way in the fall to a few months of incessant and very live pain;
with her betrothal to the minister Diana had sunk again into the
dulness of apathy. But with a constitution mental and physical like
hers, so full of sound life-blood, so true and strong, in the nature of
things this state of apathetic sleep could not last for ever. And the
time of final waking came.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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