"Then you will go?" said Diana, looking at Mr. Masters, and wishing that he would speak to her with a different expression of face. It was calm, sweet, and high, as always; but she knew he thought his wife was lost to him for ever. "And yet, I told him, last night!" she said to herself. Really, she was thinking more of that than of this other subject Basil had unfolded to her. "I do not know," he answered. "How would you like to run over there with me and take a look at the place? I have a very friendly invitation to come and bring you,--for the very purpose." "Run over? Why, it must be more than one day's journey?" "One runs by railway," said Basil simply. "What do you think? Will you go?" "O yes, indeed! if you will let me. And Rosy?" "We will go nowhere without Rosy." Diana made her cake like one in a dream. CHAPTER XXXV. BABYLON. The journey to Mainbridge, the manufacturing town in question, took place within a few days. With eager cordiality the minister and his family were welcomed in the house of one of the chief men of the church and of the place, and made very much at home. It was a phasis of social life which Diana had hardly touched ever before. Wealth was abounding and superabounding; the house was large, the luxury of furnishing and fitting, of service and equipage, was on a scale she had never seen. Basil was amused to observe that she did not seem to see it now; she took it as a matter of course, and fitted in these new surroundings as though her life had been lived in them. The dress of the minister's wife was very plain, certainly; her muslins were not costly, and they were simply made; yet nobody in the room looked so much dressed as she. It was the dignity of her beauty that so attired her; it was beauty of mind and body both; and both made the grace of her movements and the grace of her quiet so exquisite as it was. Basil smiled--and sighed. But there was no doubt Diana saw the mill people. The minister and his wife were taken to see the mills, of course, divers and various--silk mills, cotton mills, iron mills. The machinery, and the work done by it, were fascinating to Diana and delightful; the mill people, men, women, and children, were more fascinating by far, though in a far different way. She watched them in the mills, she watched them when she met them in the street, going to or from work. "Do they go to church?" she asked once of Mr. Brandt, their entertainer. He shook his head. "They are tired with their week's work when Saturday night comes, and want to rest. Sunday was given for rest," he said, looking into Diana's face, which was a study to him. "Don't you think," she said, "rest of body is a poor thing without rest of mind?" "_My_ mind cannot rest unless my body does," he answered, laughing. "Take it the other way--don't you know what it is to have rest of mind make you forget weariness of body?" "No--nor you either," said he.