What Diffidence Did

never was such a wonderful locket, Diffidence Wyatt was certain of that. And that it should be hers—her very own—was even yet more wonderful. She would frequently hold the treasure in her hands, feel its pearl-incrusted surface, and then pinch herself to make sure she was not asleep and dreaming, so unbelievable did it all seem. But first you must know how Diffidence Wyatt came by the beautiful seed-pearl locket. Let us begin at the beginning!

The tiny drowsy village of Lebanon, Connecticut, awoke in the year 1776 to find itself the center of startling activities. It was here that Governor Trumbull kept his supply station for the American army, in his rambling, one-story, hip-roofed store. Soldiers were constantly coming and going, and nearly every prominent officer of the Revolution found himself in busy little Lebanon at some period of the war.

But by far the strangest, gayest year was in 1780, when the French Duke de Lauzun, one of Lafayette's commanders, brought his troops to the old town to go into winter quarters. All over the village green they erected their barracks, and their bugle-calls echoed morning and night on the keen, frosty air. The Duke and his officers found lodgment in the homes of the village people.

Those were strange, exciting days! Diffidence Wyatt felt her heart bound and her cheeks tingle at every roll of the drums, and she was never weary of watching these Frenchmen drilling on the green, directed by their handsome young commander. Late one afternoon she was returning from a long ramble across the hills, skipping and sliding over the frozen snow, her cheeks pink with the exercise and the bounding health of her thirteen years. Her way lay through a narrow lane, a short cut between two highroads.

Suddenly rounding a turn, she came with a start of surprise upon a beautiful horse fallen on its side, one leg hanging useless and broken. Pinned under the animal's side lay a man whom Diffidence instantly recognized as the Duke de Lauzun. His head was stained with blood, and his leg was caught under the horse's heavy body. She took in the situation at a glance. The man had evidently been taking this cross-cut to the main road, his horse had slipped, fallen, and pinned him inextricably under its side. At the same time the fall had caused him a severe wound on the head. He was half-unconscious, and no one had passed that way since the accident.

Diffidence whipped off her little blue camlet cloak, rolled it up, and placed it gently under the Duke's head. Then she ran as swiftly as her young feet would carry her, to her own home, which happened to be the nearest, to obtain further assistance. In less than an hour the Duke lay in good Mistress Wyatt's best spare bedroom, his head swathed to the eyes in bandages, sleeping the sleep of sheer exhaustion. His ankle had not been broken, as was at first thought, but merely strained, and his head had received only a scalp wound.

For three days he remained under the careful nursing of Mistress Wyatt; and Diffidence, assisting her mother, tended him prettily. During that time a firm friendship was established between the bright French nobleman and the little Puritan girl, and all regretted when the time came for him to take his leave, on the fourth day. He left the house limping slightly, and Diffidence waved him a gay farewell from the porch. But next evening he returned to call on his new friends, bringing with him a faded velvet case.

"I wish, with your permission, to present this to Mademoiselle Diffidence," he explained to Mistress Wyatt, "as a slight token of my thankfulness to her." (Opening the case, he displayed to their wondering eyes a magnificent golden locket, completely incrusted both back and front by perfect seed-pearls. On the front was the initial "D," in little, finely cut diamonds. It was hung on a slender golden chain that fastened with a small, pearl-incrusted clasp.

"It belonged to an aunt of mine," he went on to tell them. "She wore it many a time at the court of Louis XV, and gave it to me, among some other trinkets, when she died. The initial was for her own name, Denise, but it shall now stand for that of our little mademoiselle."

"Ah, but I cannot allow my daughter to accept such a sumptuous gift!" expostulated good Mistress Wyatt. "It is too much! It is not fitting! She did nothing but what she should have done. I fear it will encourage vanity!"

"Oh, Madame, it is but a bijou—a trifle!" exclaimed the Duke, much disappointed. "Do allow me to present it! It will give me so much pleasure!" Diffidence prudently held her peace, as a dutiful little New England daughter was supposed to do, but her whole soul was in her eyes as she gazed supplicatingly at her mother. And so, between the imploring glances of her daughter, and the eloquent pleading of the gallant nobleman. Mistress Wyatt, sorely perplexed, was forced to yield. The trinket was clasped around the neck of the delighted child,—and that is how Diffidence came by the locket.

old Lebanon had never experienced within its borders such gay affairs as transpired that memorable winter. The lively French soldiers were the idols of the whole town. Grand tea-drinkings, sleighing-parties, dinners, and assemblies occupied every moment of the time not filled by the more serious matters of the drilling and various other military duties. The hospitality of the good housewives was taxed to the utmost, yet none found these added cares irksome.

Since the time of her adventure, Diffidence found herself mysteriously included in many of these pleasant revels, and attributed the fact to the kindly interposition of the Duke, who loved to put enjoyment in her way. Nothing, however, gave her quite so much pleasure as the contemplation of her beloved locket. She never opened the drawer where it was kept, without the fear that it might have disappeared; and once she actually got up in the middle of the night, bare-footed and candle in hand, to ascertain whether her treasure were in its accustomed place. Her mother frequently sighed, and wondered if the child's head were being turned by so much attention and the possession of so costly a trinket.

One afternoon Diffidence met the Duke de Lauzun at the village store. He bowed with his exquisite French manner, inquired after the health of all her household, and then remarked:

"Little mademoiselle, I have news for you that I think will please you. General Washington is to pass through this town next week, on his way to meet Count Rochambeau at Newport. We will give him a great welcome. In the afternoon we will hold a review of the troops, and in the evening there will be a grand assembly at the mansion of Governor Trumbull in the General's honor."

"That will surely be fine!" replied Diffidence, delighted. "I have always longed to behold our great General, and how I shall enjoy seeing the review! It is truly a wonderful treat!"

"Ah, but there is something still better for you!" went on the Duke.

"What can that be!" exclaimed Diffidence opening her eyes wide.

"Good Madame Wyatt, your mother, is to be among the invited guests at the evening assembly, and I have persuaded Madame Trumbull to include you also in the invitation. What do you think of that, petite mademoiselle?" Diffidence drew in her breath with an astonished gasp. She!—only thirteen,—not yet a young lady,—to be invited to a grand assembly at the Governor's! Wonders would never cease! Her surprise rendered her all but speechless.

"But my mother!" she breathed. "I sadly doubt that she will allow me to attend;I am yet so young!"

"Tell her that I beg her to do so, since it will give us all pleasure," answered the Duke. Thanking him with a delighted look, Diffidence flew home to tell the news. Her mother demurred, as she had expected, but finally gave her consent. Then what a flurry of preparation ensued! Diffidence must have an appropriate gown, and busy fingers were for days employed in cutting over and re-fashioning a beautiful flowered silk gown that had been Mistress Wyatt's before she was married. Innumerable happy thoughts did Diffidence sew into the stitches she took, and at last it was completed and laid away

"I shall without fail wear the seed-pearl locket that night," Diffidence promised herself. "I shall indeed be very grand!"

was Sunday morning, and Diffidence was quietly and thoughtfully preparing for church. Opening her bureau-drawer, she fingered the velvet case uncertainly.

"Mother," she queried anxiously, "would it be sinful for me to wear my locket to the house of God?"

"It is only sinful, my child, if your mind is on it, as I mistrust it will be, and not on the worship."

"I think, Mother, that my mind will be on it more if I leave it at home than if I wear it!" responded Diffidence meekly.

"Then wear it, by all means. But I fear its possession is leading you to vanity!" replied her mother. And so the locket was clasped about her neck, and she rode away behind her mother on the pillion, in the best of spirits, though she strove to hide her pleasure under sober thoughts. But Diffidence knew not what she was to face in church that day!

The high, straight-backed pews were filled to overflowing with the large families, not only from the village but from the country for many miles around. Every one attended church in those days, even the servants, and the galleries were packed with a dark but reverent band of slaves. Across the aisle from where Diffidence and her mother sat was the pew of the Governor. Gray-haired, dignified old Jonathan Trumbull occupied the end, with Madame Trumbull by his side. She wore a beautiful scarlet cloak trimmed with ermine, and fastened by a jeweled clasp. This cloak was said to be a gift from Count Rochambeau, and she was very proud of it.

The service proceeded with the usual quiet simplicity, and after the sermon the aged pastor announced that he had a proclamation from the Governor to read. A proclamation from the Governor being a distinct event, there was a breathless silence to listen.

"News has reached us that our army, in winter quarters at Valley Forge and Morristown, is suffering most keenly from the rigors of the season and the inadequacy of food and clothing. Many are starving, while others leave the bloody prints of their bare feet in the snow. None, not even the officers, are free from suffering. Will you not help? Will you not make some sacrifice to aid our brave men? What will you do to-day?"

The pastor ceased, and for a moment there was an intense silence. Then, in the face of all, Madame Trumbull arose, walked with stately steps to the front, unfastened her beautiful scarlet cloak, laid it on the table by the pulpit, and quietly returned to her seat. Instantly a wave of enthusiasm swept over the church. Fired by her example, men and women rose and pressed toward the front in a steady file, depositing on the table not only purses, rings, brooches, chains, and greatcoats, but even boots, caps, mittens, and written promises of provisions. There was not a soul but made some contribution to the beloved cause. Meanwhile, Diffidence sat rigid and pale, her heart beating fast, her hand clasping her dearest treasure under her cloak. She was thinking, thinking, thinking! Ought she do it? Must she do it? Dare she do it? What would the Duke say? He was not in church that day, or perhaps he might understand. Now he would never understand, and without doubt be grieved and astonished. Yet Madame Trumbull had set the example. Did she not fear what Count Rochambeau might think? Diffidence longed to question her. Presently Mistress Wyatt left her place, and deposited on the table the amethyst brooch given her by her husband now fighting with General Marion in the south. That decided Diffidence. With a little half-audible sob, she unclasped the locket, left her seat, and laid it on the ever-increasing pile. Madame Trumbull smiled on her as she returned to her seat, and her mother pressed her hand proudly. She felt amply repaid, yet a most disagreeable lump would persist in remaining in her throat.

That night she wrote a tear-stained, badly spelled note to the Duke de Lauzun, who was away at Hartford. It shows clearly that spelling was not the strong point of little New England maidens of that day!

"To the Duke de Lauzun 

"Dere Sir [it ran]: It givs me payne to tell you that I have parted with your most generus gift. But it was in a good caus and it was all I had to giv. I beg you to forgiv me as I only ask it in the name of our suffring soldyers at Valley Forge. "your sincer friend ""

came the great day of Washington's arrival. In the afternoon took place the splendid review of the Duke de Lauzun's troops. Diffidence watched the brilliant sight with awe. The French soldiers in their gorgeous blue-and-gold uniforms, the breasts of their officers glittering with jeweled orders, charged, wheeled, broke ranks, reunited, waved their swords, and saluted their colors with an absolute perfection of military precision. They were cheered to the echo by the crowds who witnessed the sight. Washington and his escort were arrayed in full buff-and-blue uniforms, and the Governor and his staff in crimson coats and embroidered vests. No one ever forgot the wonderful scene.

But the assembly in the evening was to Diffidence the crowning joy of the occasion. She looked forward to it, however, with both delight and fear, for she had not since spoken to the Duke, and she trembled lest their pleasant friendship should be forfeited by her sacrifice. A dainty picture she made in her little, flowered silk gown fashioned in the quaint style of the time, and she stifled more than one regretful thought for the locket that was to have graced her pretty throat.

"But I must not regret it!" she told herself. "I will not grieve for it!" And she tried to smile brightly. All during the first part of the reception she clung tightly to her mother's hand, following with her eyes the Duke, who was helping to receive the guests. Presently she spied him coming toward her with smiling face, followed by,—whom but the great General Washington, grave, courteous, and dignified.

"My dear Madame Wyatt and Mademoiselle Diffidence, I am honored to see you once more!" began the Duke, while mother and daughter courtesied bravely. "And now allow me to present General Washington to you and to your daughter. I have told him all about the affair of the locket, and he wishes to know you personally. The General bowed graciously to Mistress Wyatt, and laid a kindly hand on the head of little Diffidence.

"I honor the sacrifice she has made," he said. "It is a spirit such as this in the youth of our land that will do most toward rendering it a free and independent nation. Little Mistress Diffidence, I am proud to know you, and be assured I shall never forget you and what you have done!" With a few more remarks of a general character, Washington moved away to further social duties.

Diffidence felt as though she were exalted to the skies. She trod on air. The world glowed in a rose-colored mist! She had never been so happy in her life. But there was yet another honor in store for her.

After the reception the dancing commenced,—the stately, intricate minuets, reels, and lancers that had been introduced into the staid New England town with the advent of the French. The first was to be a minuet performed by Washington with Madame Trumbull, and the Duke de Lauzun, who had not yet selected his partner. Diffidence watched with breathless interest to see whom he would choose. She had decided that it would probably be pretty Molly Huntington, whose little feet fairly tapped the floor in their impatience to be tripping, when, to her astonishment, she saw him making his way straight to her corner.

"Will Mademoiselle honor me with the dance?" he asked, bowing low. It was incredible! Diffidence took his arm in a whirl of wonder, and stepped with him to the center of the room. All eyes were upon them; a buzz of laughing admiration ran through the room, the fiddlers struck up a swinging air, and the dance commenced. No prettier sight had ever graced the Trumbull Mansion. Stately, gray-haired Madame Trumbull and her equally dignified partner, Washington, made a most charming contrast to the handsome young French officer and dainty, flushed little Diffidence, who moved through the intricate figures with a quaint grace and half-restrained gaiety. When the dance was over a ringing burst of delighted applause testified to the approval of the onlookers. The Duke gallantly led her to her mother, and Diffidence nestled down at her side, too overcome with happiness to speak. She could never remember afterward, anything much that happened during the rest of the evening, so absorbed was she in the thought of the honor that she had received and the joy of the dance.

When the happy affair was over, she and her mother, wrapped in their quilted riding-cloaks, their pretty skirts tucked up, mounted their horse for the homeward journey. The crisp snow crunched under their horse's hoofs, and the stars twinkled brilliantly. Gay shouts were heard at intervals, from others wending their way home in the darkness. Diffidence, on the pillion, clasping her mother tightly, was so quiet that she might have been asleep; but sleepy she was not,—on the contrary, her mind was never more keenly alert.

Presently she pulled down her mother's head and giving her a tender kiss on the cheek, she whispered in her ear:

"You must tell no one. Mother, dear, especially the Duke de Lauzun, but I would not exchange this evening and what happened,—no, not for twenty seed-pearl lockets!"