The afternoon passed quietly. Dinner was served up. Thornton came in, and greeted Despard with his usual abstraction, leaving his wife to do the agreeable. After dinner, as usual, he prepared for a nap, and Despard and Mrs. Thornton started for the fête. It was to be in some gardens at the other end of Holby, along the shore. The townspeople had recently formed a park there, and this was one of the preliminaries to its formal inauguration. The trees were hung with innumerable lamps of varied colors. There were bands of music, and triumphal arches, and gay festoons, and wreaths of flowers, and every thing that is usual at such a time. On arriving, Despard assisted Mrs. Thornton from the carriage and offered his arm. She took it, but her hand rested so lightly on it that its touch was scarce perceptible. They walked around through the illuminated paths. Great crowds of people were there. All looked with respectful pleasure at Mrs. Thornton and the Rector. “You ought to be glad that you have come,” said she. “See how these poor people feel it: we are not persons of very great consequence, yet our presence is marked and enjoyed.” “All places are alike to me,” answered Despard, “when I am with you. Still, there are circumstances about this which will make it forever memorable to me.” “Look at those lights,” exclaimed Mrs. Thornton, suddenly; “what varied colors!” “Let us walk into that grotto,” said Despard, turning toward a cool, dark place which lay before them. Here, at the end of the grotto, was a tree, at the foot of which was a seat. They sat down and staid for hours. In the distance the lights twinkled and music arose. They said little, but listened to the confused murmur which in the pauses of the music came up from afar. Then they rose and walked back. Entering the principal path a great crowd streamed on which they had to face. Despard sighed. “You and I,” said he, stooping low and speaking in a sad voice, “are compelled to go against the tide.” “Shall we turn back and go with it?” “We can not.” “Do you wish to turn aside?” “We can not. We must walk against the tide, and against the rush of men. If we turn aside there is nothing but darkness.” They walked on in silence till they reached the gate. “The carriage has not come,” said Mrs. Thornton. “Do you prefer riding?” “No.” “It is not far. Will you walk?” “With pleasure.” They walked on slowly. About half-way they met the carriage. Mrs. Thornton ordered it back, saying that she would walk the rest of the way. They walked on slowly, saying so little that at last Mrs. Thornton began to speak about the music which they had proposed to undertake. Despard’s enthusiasm seemed to have left him. His replies were vague and general. On reaching the gate he stood still for a moment under the trees and half turned toward her. “You don’t say any thing about the music?” said she. “That’s because I am so stupid. I have lost my head. I am not capable of a single coherent idea.”