from the cool, shadowy, and frowning prison into the
gay sunlight, she experienced a sense of bewilderment. The significance
of a lock and a bar seemed greater on quitting them than it had when she
had perceived them first. The drama of imprisonment and punishment
oppressed her spirit with tenfold gloom now that she gazed upon the
brilliancy and freedom of the outer world. That she and everybody around
her were permitted to walk here and there at will, without question and
limit, generated within her an indefinite feeling of gratitude; and the
noise, the colors, the creaking wagons, the myriad voices, the splendid
variety and change of all things excited a profound but at the same time
a mournful satisfaction.

Midway in her return journey she was shrieked at from a carriage, which
at once approached the sidewalk. Within it were four gay maidens bound
to the Navy-Yard, from whence they were to sail, with a large party of
people of nice assortment, in an experimental steamer, which was to be
made to go with kerosene lamps, in some way. They seized upon her hands
and cajoled her. Wouldn't she go? They were to sail down among the
islands (provided the oil made the wheels and things go round), they
were to lunch at Fort Warren, dine at Fort Independence, and dance at
Fort Winthrop Come, please go. Oh, do! The Germanians were to furnish
the music.

Miss Eunice sighed, but shook her head. She had not yet got the air of
the prison out of her lungs, nor the figure of her robber out of her
eyes, nor the sense of horror and repulsion out of her sympathies.

At another time she would have gone to the ends of the earth with such a
happy crew, but now she only shook her head again and was resolute. No
one could wring a reason from her, and the wondering quartet drove away.

II.

Before the day went, Miss Eunice awoke to the disagreeable fact that her
plans had become shrunken and contracted, that a certain something had
curdled her spontaneity, and that her ardor had flown out at some
crevice and had left her with the dry husk of an intent.

She exerted herself to glow a little, but she failed. She talked well
at the tea-table, but she did not tell about the glove. This matter
plagued her. She ran over in her mind the various doings of Miss
Crofutt, and she could not conceal from herself that that lady had never
given a glove to one of her wretches; no, nor had she ever permitted the
smallest approach to familiarity.