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diff --git a/old/66320-0.txt b/old/66320-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 65ff23e..0000000 --- a/old/66320-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12956 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Young Diana, by Marie Corelli - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Young Diana - An Experiment of the Future - -Author: Marie Corelli - -Release Date: September 17, 2021 [eBook #66320] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, SF2001, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG DIANA *** - - - - - -THE YOUNG DIANA - -MARIE CORELLI - - - - - THE YOUNG DIANA - - AN EXPERIMENT OF THE FUTURE - - - BY - - MARIE CORELLI - -AUTHOR OF “THE LIFE EVERLASTING,” “INNOCENT,” “ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS,” -“BARABBAS,” ETC. - - - TORONTO - WILLIAM BRIGGS - - - - -_Copyright, Canada, 1918_, - -By Marie Corelli - - - - -THE YOUNG DIANA - - - - -THE YOUNG DIANA - -CHAPTER I - - -Once upon a time, in earlier and less congested days of literary -effort, an Author was accustomed to address the Public as “Gentle -Reader.” It was a civil phrase, involving a pretty piece of flattery. -It implied three things: first, that if the Reader were not “gentle,” -the Author’s courtesy might persuade him or her to become so--secondly, -that criticism, whether favourable or the reverse, might perhaps be -generously postponed till the reading of the book was finished,--and -thirdly, that the Author had no wish to irritate the Reader’s feelings, -but rather sought to prepare and smooth the way to a friendly -understanding. Now I am at one with my predecessors in all these -delicate points of understanding, and as I am about to relate what -every person of merely average intelligence is likely to regard as an -incredible narrative, I think it as well to begin politely, in the -old-fashioned “grand” manner of appeal, which is half apologetic, and -half conciliatory. “Gentle Reader,” therefore, I pray you to be friends -with me! Do not lose either patience or temper while following the -strange adventures of a very strange woman,--though in case you should -be disappointed in seeking for what you will not find, let me say at -once that my story is not of the Sex Problem type. No! My heroine is -not perverted from the paths of decency and order, or drawn to a bad -end; in fact, I cannot bring her to an end at all, as she is still -very much alive and doing uncommonly well for herself. Any end for -Diana May would seem not only incongruous, but manifestly impossible. - -Life, as we all know, is a curious business. It is like a stage mask -with two faces,--the one comic, the other tragic. The way we look at -it depends on the way it looks at us. Some of us have seen it on both -sides, and are neither edified nor impressed. - -Then, again--life is a series of “sensations.” We who live now are -always describing life. They who lived long ago did the same. It seems -that none of us have ever found, or can ever find, anything better -to occupy ourselves withal. All through the ages the millions of -human creatures who once were born and who are now dead, passed their -time on this planet in experiencing “sensations,” and relating their -experiences to one another, each telling his or her little “tale of -woe” in a different way. So anxious were they, and so anxious are we, -to explain the special and individual manner in which our mental and -physical vibrations respond to the particular circumstances in which -we find ourselves, that all systems of religion, government, science, -art and philosophy have been, and are, evolved simply and solely out -of the pains and pleasures of a mass of atoms who are “feeling” things -and trying to express their feelings to each other. These feelings -they designate by various lofty names, such as “faith,” “logic,” -“reason,” “opinion,” “wisdom,” and so forth; and upon them they build -temporary fabrics of Law and Order, vastly solid in appearance, yet -collapsible as a house of cards, and crumbling at a touch, while every -now and again there comes a sudden, unlooked-for interruption to their -discussions and plans--a kind of dark pause and suggestion of chaos, -such as a great war, a plague or other unwelcome “visitation of God,” -wherein “feelings” almost cease, or else people are too frightened -to talk about them. They are chilled into nervous silence and wait, -afflicted by fear and discouragement, till the cloud passes and the air -clears. Then the perpetual buzz of “feeling” begins again in the mixed -bass and treble of complaint and rejoicing,--a kind of monotonous noise -without harmony. External Nature has no part in it, for Man is the only -creature that ever tries to explain the phenomena of existence. It is -not in the least comprehensible why he alone should thus trouble and -perplex himself,--or why his incessant consideration and analysis of -his own emotions should be allowed to go on,--for, whatsoever education -may do for us, we shall never be educated out of the sense of our own -importance. Which is an odd fact, moving many thoughtful minds to -never-ending wonder. - -My heroine, Diana May, wondered. She was always wondering. She spent -weeks, and months, and years, in a chronic state of wonder. She -wondered about herself and several other people, because she thought -both herself and those several other people so absurd. She found no -use for herself in the general scheme of things, and tried, with much -patient humility, to account for herself. But though she read books on -science, books on psychology, books on natural and spiritual law, and -studied complex problems of evolution and selection of species till her -poor dim eyes grew dimmer, and the “lines from nose to chin” became -ever longer and deeper, she could discover no way through the thick bog -of her difficulties. She was an awkward numeral in a sum; she did not -know why she came in or how she was to be got out. - -Her father and mother were what are called “very well-to-do-people,” -with a pleasantly suburban reputation for respectability and regular -church attendance. Mr. James Polydore May,--this was his name in full, -as engraved on his visiting card--was a small man in stature, but in -self-complacency the biggest one alive. He had made a considerable -fortune in a certain manufacturing business which need not here be -specified, and he had speculated with it in a shrewd and careful -manner which was not without a touch of genius, the happy result being -that he had always gained and never lost. Now at the age of sixty, he -was free from all financial care, and could rattle gold and silver -in his trousers-pockets with a sense of pleasure in their clinking -sound,--they had the sweetness of church-bells which proclaim the -sure nearness of a prosperous town. He was not a bad-looking little -veteran,--he had, as he was fond of saying of himself, “a good chest -measurement,” and though his legs were short, they were not bandy. -Inclined to corpulence, the two lower buttons of his waistcoat were -generally left undone, that he might the more easily stretch himself -after a full meal. His physiognomy was not so much intelligent as -pugnacious--his bushy eyebrows, hair and moustache gave him at certain -moments the look of an irascible old terrier. He had keen small eyes, -coming close to the bridge of a rather pronounced Israelitish nose, -and to these characteristics was added a generally assertive air,--an -air which went before him like an advancing atmosphere, heralding his -approach as a “somebody”--that sort of atmosphere which invariably -accompanies nobodies. His admiration of the fair sex was open and -not always discreet, and from his youth up he had believed himself -capable of subjugating any and every woman. He had an agreeable “first -manner” of his own on introduction,--a manner which was absolutely -deceptive, giving no clue to the uglier side of his nature. His wife -could have told whole stories about this “first manner” of his, had -she not long ago given up the attempt to retain any hold on her own -individuality. She had been a woman of average intelligence when she -married him,--commonplace, certainly, but good-natured and willing to -make the best of everything; needless to say that the illusions of -youth vanished with the first years of wedded life (as they are apt to -do), and she had gradually sunk into a flabby condition of resigned -nonentity, seeing there was nothing else left for her. The dull, tame -tenor of her days had once been interrupted by the birth of her only -child Diana, who as long as she was small and young, and while she -was being educated under the usual system of governesses and schools, -was an object of delight, affection, amusement and interest, and who, -when she grew up and “came out” at eighteen as a graceful, pretty girl -of the freshest type of English beauty, gave her mother something to -love and to live for,--but alas!--Diana had proved the bitterest of -all her disappointments. The “coming-out” business, the balls, the -race-meetings and other matrimonial traps had been set in vain;--the -training, the music, the dancing, the “toilettes”--had failed to -attract,--and Diana had not married. She had fallen in love, as most -girls do before they know much about men,--and she had engaged herself -to an officer with “expectations” for whom, with a romantic devotion -as out of date as the poems of Chaucer, she had waited for seven long -years in a resigned condition of alarming constancy,--and then, when -his “expectations” were realised, he had promptly thrown her over for -a fairer and younger partner. By that time Diana was what is called -“getting on.” All this had tried the temper of Mrs. James Polydore -May considerably--and she took refuge from her many vexations in the -pleasures of the table and the consolations of sleep. The result of -this mode of procedure was that she became corpulent and unwieldy,--her -original self was swallowed up in a sort of featherbed of adipose -tissue, from which she peered out on the world with protruding, -lustreless eyes, the tip of her small nose seeming to protest feebly -against the injustice of being well-nigh walled from sight between -the massive flabby cheeks on either side of its never classic and -distinctly parsimonious proportions. With oversleep and over-eating -she had matured into a stupid and somewhat obstinate woman, with a -habit of saying unmeaningly nice or nasty things:--she would “gush” -affectionately to all and sundry,--to the maid who fastened her shoes -as ardently as to a friend of many years standing,--yet she would -mock her own guests behind their backs, or unkindly criticise the -physical and mental defects of the very man or woman she had flattered -obsequiously five minutes before. So that she was not exactly a “safe” -acquaintance,--you never knew where to have her. But,--as is often the -case with these placidly smiling, obese ladies,--everyone seemed to be -in a conspiracy to call her “sweet,” and “dear” and “kind,” whereas in -very truth she was one of the most selfish souls extant. Her charities -were always carefully considered and bestowed in quarters where she was -likely to get most credit for them,--her profusely expressed sympathy -for other people’s troubles exhausted itself in a few moments, and -she would straightway forget what form of loss or misfortune she had -just been commiserating,--while, despite her proverbial “dear” and -“sweet” attributes, she had a sulky temper which would hold her in -its grip for days, during which time she would neither speak nor be -spoken to. Her chief interest and attention were centred on eatables, -and she always made a point of going to breakfast in advance of her -husband, so that she might select for herself the most succulent -morsels out of the regulation dish of fried bacon, before he had a -chance to look in. Husband and wife were always arguing with each -other, and both were always wrong in each other’s opinion. Mrs. James -Polydore May considered her worser half as something of a wayward and -peevish child, and he in turn looked upon her as a useful domestic -female--“perfectly simple and natural,” he was wont to say, a statement -which, if true, would have been vastly convenient to him as he could -then have deceived her more easily. But “deeper than ever plummet -sounded” was the “simplicity” wherewith Mrs. James Polydore May was -endowed, and the “natural” way in which she managed to secure her own -comfort, convenience and ease while assuming to be the most guileless -and unselfish of women; indeed there were times when she was fairly -astonished at herself for having “arranged things so cleverly,” as she -expressed it. Whenever a woman of her type admits to having “arranged -things cleverly” you may be sure that the most astute lawyer alive -could never surpass her in the height or the depth of duplicity. - -Such, briefly outlined, were the characteristics of the couple who, in -an absent-minded moment, had taken upon themselves the responsibility -of bringing a woman into the world for whom apparently the world -had no use. Woman, considered in the rough abstract, is only the -pack-mule of man,--his goods, his chattels, created specially to be -the “vessel” of his passion and humour,--and without his favour and -support she is by universal consent set down as a lonely and wandering -mistake. Such is the Law and the Prophets. Under these circumstances, -which have recently shown signs of yielding to pressure, Diana, the -rapidly ageing spinster daughter of Mr. and Mrs. James Polydore May, -was in pitiable plight. No man wanted her, not even to serve him as a -pack-mule. No man sought to add her person to his goods and chattels, -and at the time this true story opens, she was not fair or fascinating -or young enough to serve him as a toy for his delight, a plaything -of his pleasure. Life had been very monotonous for her since she had -passed the turning-point of thirty years,--“nice” people, who always -say nasty things, remarked “how _passée_ she was getting,”--thereby -helping the ageing process considerably. She, meanwhile, bore her lot -with exemplary cheerfulness,--she neither grizzled nor complained, nor -showed herself envious of youth or youthful loveliness. A comforting -idea of “duty” took possession of her mind, and she devoted herself to -the tenderest care of her fat mother and irritable father, waiting upon -them like a slave, and saying her prayers for them night and morning as -simply as a child, without the faintest suspicion that they were past -praying for. The years went on, and she took pains to educate herself -in all that might be useful,--she read much and thought more,--she -mastered two or three languages, and spoke them with ease and fluency, -and she was an admirable musician. She had an abundance of pretty -light-brown hair, and all her movements were graceful, but alas!--the -unmistakable look of growing old was stamped upon her once mobile -features,--she had become angular and flat-chested, and the unbecoming -straight line from waist to knee, which gave her figure a kind of -pitiful masculinity, was developing with hard and bony relentlessness. -One charm she had, which she herself recognised and took care to -cultivate--“a low, sweet voice, an excellent thing in woman.” If one -chanced to hear her speaking in an adjoining room, the effect was -remarkable,--one felt that some exquisite creature of immortal youth -and tenderness was expressing a heavenly thought in music. - -Mr. James Polydore May, as I have already ventured to suggest, was -nothing if not respectable. He was a J.P. This,--in English suburban -places at least,--is the hall-mark of an unimpeachable rectitude. -Another sign of his good standing and general uprightness was, that at -stated seasons he always went for a change of air. We all know that -the person who remains in one place the whole year round is beyond -the pale and cannot be received in the best society. Mr. May had a -handsome house and grounds in the close vicinity of Richmond, within -easy distance of town, but when the London “season” ended, he and Mrs. -May invariably discovered their home to be “stuffy,” and sighed for -more expansive breathing and purer oxygen than Richmond could supply. -They had frequently taken a shooting or fishing in Scotland, but that -was in the days when there were still matrimonial hopes for Diana, and -when marriageable men could be invited, not only to handle rod and gun, -but to inspect their “one ewe-lamb,” which they were over-anxious to -sell to the highest bidder. These happy dreams were at an end. It was -no longer worth while to lay in extensive supplies of whisky and cigars -by way of impetus to timid or hesitating Benedicts, when they came back -from a “day on the moors,” tired, sleepy and stupid enough to drift -into proposals of marriage almost unconsciously. Mr. May seldom invited -young men to stay with him now, for the very reason that he could not -get them; they found him a “bore,”--his wife dull, and his daughter an -“old maid,”--a term of depreciation still freely used by the golden -youth of the day, despite the modern and more civil term of “lady -bachelor.” So he drew in the horns of his past ambition, and consoled -himself with the society of two or three portly men of his own age and -habits,--men who played golf and billiards, and who, if they could -do nothing else, smoked continuously. And for the necessary “change -of air,” the seaside offered itself as a means of health without too -excessive an expenditure, and instead of “chasing the wild deer -and following the roe,” a simple hammock chair on the sandy beach, -and a golf course within easy walking distance provided sufficient -relaxation. Not that Mr. May was in any sense parsimonious; he did not -take a cottage by the sea, or cheap lodgings,--on the contrary, he was -always prepared to “do the thing handsomely,” and to select what the -house-agents call an “ideal” residence. - -At the particular time I am writing of, he had just settled down for -the summer in a very special “ideal” on the coast of Devon. It was a -house which had formerly belonged to an artist, but the artist had -recently died, and his handsome and not inconsolable widow stated that -she found it dull. She was glad to let it for two or three months, in -order to “get away” with that restless alacrity which distinguishes so -many people who find anything better than their own homes, and Mr. and -Mrs. Polydore May, though, as they said, it certainly was “a little -quiet after London,” were glad to have it, at quite a moderate rental -for the charming place it really was. The gardens were exquisitely -laid out and carefully kept; the smooth velvety lawns ran down almost -to the sea, where a little white gate opened out from the green of the -grass to the gold of the sand,--the rooms were tastefully furnished, -and Diana, when she first saw the place, going some days in advance -of her father and mother, as was her wont, in order to make things -ready and comfortable for them, thought how happy she could be if only -such a house and garden were hers to enjoy, independently of others. -For a week before her respected and respectable parents came, in the -intervals of unpacking, and arranging matters so that the domestic -“staff” could assume their ordinary duties with smoothness and -regularity, she wandered about alone, exploring the beauties of her -surroundings, her thin, flat figure striking a curious note of sadness -and solitude, as she sometimes stood in the garden among a wealth of -flowers, looking out to the tender dove-grey line of the horizon across -the sea. The servants peeping at her from kitchen and pantry windows, -made their own comments. - -“Poor dear!” said the cook, thoughtfully--“she do wear thin!” - -“Ah, it’s a sad look-out for ’er!” sighed the upper housemaid, who was -engaged to a pork-butcher with an alarmingly red face, whom one would -have thought any self-respecting young woman would have died rather -than wedded. “To be all alone in the world like that, unpertected, as -she will be when her pa and ma have gone!” - -“Well, they won’t go in a hurry!” put in the butler, who was an -observing man--“Leastways, Mr. May won’t; he’ll ’old on to life like -a cat to a mouse--_he_ will! He’s _that_ hearty!--why, he thinks -he’s about thirty instead of sixty. The missis, now,--if she goes on -eating as she do,--she’ll drop off sudden like a burstin’ bean,--but -_he_!--Ah! I shouldn’t wonder if he outlasted us all!” - -“Lor, Mr. Jonson!” exclaimed the upper housemaid--“How you do -talk!--and you such a young man too!” - -Jonson smiled, inwardly flattered. He was well over forty, but like his -master wished to be considered a kind of youth, fit for dancing, tennis -and other such gamesome occupations. - -“Miss Diana,” he now continued, with a judicial air--“has lost her -chances. It’s a pity!--for no one won’t marry her now. There’s too many -young gels about,--no man wants the old ’uns. She’ll have to take up a -‘mission’ or something to get noticed at all.” - -Here a quiet-looking woman named Grace Laurie interposed. She was the -ladies’ maid, and she was held in great respect, for she was engaged to -marry (at some uncertain and distant date) an Australian farmer with -considerable means. - -“Miss Diana is very clever--” she said--“She could do almost anything -she cared to. She’s got a great deal more in her than people think. -And”--here Grace hesitated--“she’s prettily made, too, though she’s -over thin,--when she comes from her bath with all her hair hanging -down, she looks sweet!” A gurgle of half hesitating, half incredulous -laughter greeted this remark. - -“Well, it’s few ladies as looks ‘sweet’ coming from the bath!” declared -the butler with emphasis. “I’ve had many a peep at the missis----” - -Here the laughter broke out loudly, with little cries of: “Oh! -Oh!”--and the kitchen chatter ended. - -It had come to the last day of Diana’s free and uncontrolled enjoyment -of the charming seaside Eden which her parents had selected as a summer -retreat,--and regretfully realising this, she strolled lingeringly -about the garden, inhaling the sweet odours of roses and mignonette -with the salty breath of the sea. The next morning Mr. and Mrs. -Polydore May would arrive in time for luncheon, and once more the old -domestic jog-trot would commence,--the same routine as that which -prevailed at Richmond, with no other change save such as was conveyed -in the differing scene and surroundings. Breakfast punctually at -nine,--luncheon at one,--tea at four-thirty,--dinner at a quarter to -eight. Dinner at a quarter to eight was one of Diana’s bugbears--why -not have it at eight o’clock, she thought? The “quarter to” was an -irritating juggling with time for which there was no necessity. But -she had protested in vain; dinner at quarter to eight was one of her -mother’s many domestic “fads.” Between the several meals enumerated -there would be nothing doing,--nothing, that is to say, of any -consequence or use to anybody. Diana knew the whole weary, stupid -round,--Mr. May would pass the morning reading the papers either in -the garden or on the sandy shore,--Mrs. May would give a few muddled -and contradictory orders to the servants, who never obeyed them -literally, but only as far as they could be conveniently carried out, -and then would retire to write letters to friends or acquaintances; -in the afternoon Mr. May would devote himself to golf, while his wife -slept till tea-time,--then she would take a stroll in the garden, and -perhaps--only perhaps--talk over a few household affairs with her -daughter. Then came the “quarter to eight” dinner with desultory and -somewhat wrangling conversation, after which Mrs. May slept again, and -Mr. May played billiards, if he could find anyone to play with him,--if -not, he practised “tricky” things alone with the cue. Neither of them -ever thought that this sort of life was not conducive to cheerfulness -so far as their daughter Diana was concerned,--indeed they never -considered her at all. When she was young--ah yes, of course!--it was -necessary to find such entertainment and society for her as might -“show her off,”--but now, when she was no longer marriageable in the -conventionally accepted sense of marriage, she was left to bear the -brunt of fate as best she might, and learn to be contented with the -plain feminine duty of keeping house for her parents. It must be -stated that she did this “keeping house” business to perfection,--she -controlled expenses without a taint of meanness, managed the servants, -and made the whole commonplace affair of ordinary living run smoothly. -But whatever she did, she never had a word of praise from either her -father or mother,--they took her careful service as their right, and -never seemed to realise that most of their comforts and conveniences -were the result of her forethought and good sense. Certainly they did -not trouble themselves as to whether she was happy or the reverse. - -She thought of this,--just a little, but not morosely--on the last -evening she was to spend alone at “Rose Lea” as the “ideal” summer -residence was called,--probably on account of its facing west, and -gathering on its walls and windows all the brilliant flush of the -sunset. She was somewhat weary,--she had been occupied for hours -in arranging her mother’s bedroom and seeing that all the numerous -luxuries needed by that placid mass of superfluous flesh were in their -place and order, and now that she had finished everything she had -to do, she was glad to have the remainder of her time to herself in -the garden, thinking, and--as usual--wondering. Her wonder was just -simply this:--How long would she have to go on in the same clockwork -mechanism of life as that which now seemed to be her destiny? She had -made certain variations in the slow music of her days by study,--yes, -that was true!--but then no one made use of her studies,--no one -knew the extent of her attainments, and even in her music she had no -encouragement,--no one ever asked her to play. All her efforts seemed -so much wasted output of energy. She had certain private joys of her -own,--a great love of Nature, which like an open door in Heaven allowed -her to enter familiarly into some of the marvels and benedictions of -creative intelligence; she loved books, and could read them in French -and Italian, as well as in her native English; and she had taken to the -study of Russian with some success. Greek and Latin she had learned -sufficiently well to understand the great authors of the elder world in -their own script,--but all these intellectual diversions were organised -and followed on her own initiative, and as she sometimes said to -herself a trifle bitterly: - -“Nobody knows I can do anything but check the tradesmen’s books and -order the dinner.” - -This was a fact,--nobody knew. Ordinary people considered her -unattractive; what they saw was a scraggy woman of medium height with -a worn face visibly beginning to wrinkle under a profusion of brown -hair,--a woman who “had been” pretty when younger, but who now had -a rather restrained and nervous manner, and who was seldom inclined -to speak,--yet, who, when spoken to, answered always gently, in a -sweet voice with a wonderfully musical accentuation. No one thought -for a moment that she might possibly be something of a scholar,--and -certainly no one imagined that above all things she was a great student -of all matters pertaining to science. Every book she could hear of -on scientific subjects, whether treating of wireless telegraphy, -light-rays, radium, or other marvellous discoveries of the age, she -made it her special business to secure and to study patiently and -comprehendingly, the result being that her mind was richly stored with -material for thought on far higher planes than the majority of reading -folk ever attempt to reach. But she never spoke of the things in which -she was so deeply interested, and as she was reserved and almost -awkwardly shy in company, the occasional callers on her mother scarcely -noticed her, except casually and with a careless civility which meant -nothing. She was seen to knit and to do Jacobean tapestry rather well, -and people spoke to her of these accomplishments as being what they -thought she was most likely to understand,--but they looked askance -at her dress, which was always a little tasteless and unbecoming, and -opined that “poor dear Mrs. May must be dreadfully disappointed in her -daughter!” - -It never occurred to these easy-tongued folk that Diana was dreadfully -disappointed in herself. This was the trouble of it. She asked the -question daily and could find no answer. And yet,--she was useful to -her parents surely? Yes,--but in her own heart she knew they would -have been just as satisfied with a paid “companion housekeeper.” They -did not really “love” her, now that she had turned out such a failure. -Alas, poor Diana! Her hunger for “love” was her misfortune; it was the -one thing in all the world she craved. It had been this desire of love -that had charmed her impulsive soul when in the heyday of her youth -and prettiness, she had engaged herself to the man for whom she had -waited seven years, only to be heartlessly thrown over at last. She -had returned all his letters in exchange for her own at the end of the -affair,--all, save two,--and these two she read every night before she -said her prayers to keep them well fixed in her memory. One of them -contained the following passage: - - “How I love you, my own sweet little Diana! You are to me the most - adorable girl in the world,--and if ever I do an unkind thing to you - or wrong you in any way may God punish me for a treacherous brute! My - one desire in life is to make you happy.” - -The other letter, written some years later, was rather differently -expressed. - - “I am quite sure you will understand that time has naturally worked - changes, in you as well as in myself, and I am obliged to confess - that the feelings I once had for you no longer exist. But you are a - sensible woman, and you are old enough now to realise that we are - better apart.” - -“You are old enough now,” was the phrase that jarred upon Diana’s -inward sense, like the ugly sound of a clanking chain in a convict’s -cell. “You are old enough now.” Well, it was true!--she was “old -enough,”--but she had taken this “oldness” upon her while faithfully -waiting for her lover. And he had been the first to punish her for -her constancy! It was very strange. Indeed, it was one of those many -things that had brought her to her chronic state of wonderment. The -great writers,--more notably great poets, themselves the most fickle of -men,--eulogised fidelity in love as a heavenly virtue. Why then, when -she had practised it, had she been so sorely rewarded? Yet, since the -rupture of her engagement, and the long and bitter pain she had endured -over this breaking up of all she had held most dear, her many studies -and her careful reading had gradually calmed and strengthened her -nature, and she was able to admit to herself that there were possibly -worse things than the loss of a heartless lover who might have proved -a still more heartless husband. She felt no resentment towards him, -and his memory now scarcely moved her to a thrill of sorrow or regret. -She only asked herself why it had all happened? Of course there was no -answer to such a query,--there never is. And she was “old enough”--yes, -quite “old enough” to put away all romance and sentimentality. Yet, as -she walked slowly in the garden among the roses, and watched the sea -sparkling in the warm after-glow of what had been an exceptionally fine -sun setting, the old foolish craving stirred in her heart again. The -scent of the flowers, the delicate breathings of the summer air, the -flash of the sea-gulls’ white wings skimming over the glittering sand -pools,--all these expressions of natural beauty saddened while they -entranced her soul. She longed to be one with them, sharing their life, -and imparting to others something of their joy. - -“They never grow old!” she said, half aloud. “Or if they do, it is not -perceived. They seem always the same--always beautiful and vital.” - -Here she paused. A standard rose tree weighted with splendid blossom -showed among its flowers one that had been cramped and spoiled by the -over-profusion and close pressure of its companions,--it was decaying -amid the eager crowd of bursting buds that looked almost humanly -anxious to be relieved of its presence. With soft, deft fingers Diana -broke it away from the stem and let it drop to earth. - -“That is me!” she said. “And that’s what ought to become of me! Nothing -withered or ugly ought to live in such a lovely world. I am a blot on -beauty.” - -She looked out to sea again. The after-glow had almost faded; only one -broad line of dull gold showed the parting trail of the sun. - -“No--there’s no hope!” she murmured, with an expressive gesture of her -hands. “I must plod on day after day in the same old rut of things, -doing my duty, which is perhaps all I ought to ask to do,--trying to -make my mother comfortable and to keep my father in decent humour,--and -then--then--when they go, I shall be alone in the world. No one will -care what becomes of me,--even as it is now no one cares whether I live -or die!” - -This is the discordant note in many a life’s music,--“no one cares.” -When “no one cares” for us, we do not care about ourselves or about -anybody else. And in “not caring” we stumble blindly and unconsciously -on our only chance of safety and happiness. A heartless truth!--but -a truth all the same. For when we have become utterly indifferent to -Destiny, Destiny like a spoiled child does all she can to attract our -notice, and manifests a sudden interest in us of which we had never -dreamed. And the less we care, the more she clings! - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Diana was “old enough,” as her recalcitrant lover had informed -her, to value the blessing of a good night’s rest. She had a clear -conscience,--she was, indeed, that _rara avis_, in these days, a -perfectly innocent-minded woman, and she slept as calmly and peacefully -as a child. When she woke to the light of a radiant morning, with the -sunshine making diamonds of the sea, she felt almost young again as she -tripped to and fro, putting the final touches of taste to the pretty -drawing-room, and giving to every nook and corner that indefinable -air of pleasant occupation which can only be bestowed by the hand of -a dainty, beauty-loving woman. At the appointed hour, the automobile -was sent to the station to meet Mr. and Mrs. James Polydore May, and -punctual to time the worthy couple arrived, both husband and wife -slightly out of humour with the heat of the fine summer’s day and the -fatigue of the journey from London. - -“Well, Diana!” sighed her mother, turning a fat, buff-coloured cheek to -be kissed, “is the house really decent and comfortable?” - -“It’s lovely!” declared Diana, cheerfully--“I’m sure you’ll be happy -here, Mother! The garden is perfectly delightful!” - -“Your mother spoke of the house, not the garden,” interposed Mr. May, -judicially. “You really must be accurate, Diana! Yes--er--yes!--that -will do!”--this, as Diana somewhat shrinkingly embraced him. “Your -mother is always suspicious--and rightly so--of damp in rented country -houses, but I think we made ourselves certain that there was nothing -of that kind before we decided to take it. And no poultry clucking?--no -noises of a farmyard close by? No? That’s a comfort! Yes--er--it seems -fairly suitable. Is luncheon ready?” - -Diana replied that it was, and the family of three were soon seated at -table in the dining-room, discussing lobster mayonnaise. As Mrs. May -bent her capacious bosom over her plate, her round eyes goggling with -sheer greed, and Mr. May ate rapidly as was his wont, casting sharp -glances about him to see if he could find fault with anything, Diana’s -heart sank more and more. It was just the same sort of luncheon as at -home in Richmond, tainted by the same sordid atmosphere of commonplace. -Her parents showed no spark of pleasurable animation or interest in the -change of scene or the loveliness of the garden and sea as glimpsed -through the open French windows,--everything had narrowed into the -savoury but compressed limit of lobster mayonnaise. - -“Too much mustard in this, as usual,” said Mr. May, scraping his plate -noisily. - -“Not at all,” retorted his wife, with placid obstinacy. “If there _is_ -anything Marsh knows _how_ to make with absolute perfection, it _is_ -mayonnaise.” - -Marsh was the cook, and the cause of many a matrimonial wrangle. - -“Oh, of course, Marsh is faultless!” sneered Mr. May. “This house has -been taken solely that Marsh shall have a change of air and extra -perquisites!” - -Mrs. May’s eyes goggled a little more prominently, and protecting -her voluminous bust with a dinner-napkin, she took a fresh supply of -mayonnaise. Diana, who was a small eater and who rather grudged the -time her parents spent over their meals, took no part in this sort of -“sparring,” which always went on between the progenitors of her being. -She was thankful when luncheon was over and she could escape to her -own room. There she found the maid, Grace Laurie, with some letters -which had just arrived. - -“These are for you, miss,” said Grace. “I brought them up out of the -hall, as I thought you’d like to be quiet for a bit.” - -Diana smiled, gratefully. - -“Thank you, Grace. Mother is coming upstairs directly to lie down--will -you see she has all she wants?” - -“Yes, miss.” Then, after a pause, “It’s you that should lie down and -get a rest, Miss Diana,--you’ve been doing ever such a lot all these -days. You should just take it easy now.” - -Diana smiled again. There was something of kindly compassion in -the “take it easy” suggestion--but she nodded assentingly and the -well-meaning maid left her. - -There was a long mirror against the wall, and Diana suddenly saw her -own reflection in it. A hot flush of annoyance reddened her face,--what -a scarecrow she looked to herself! So angular and bony! Her plain navy -linen frock hung as straight as a man’s trousers; no gracious curves -of body gave prettiness to its uncompromising folds,--and as for her -poor worn countenance, she could have thrown things at it for its -doleful pointed chin and sharp nose! She looked steadfastly into her -own eyes,--they were curious in colour, and rather pretty with their -melting hues of blue and grey,--but, oh!--those crows’-feet at the -corners!--oh, the wrinkling of the eyelids!--oh, the tiredness, and -dimness and ache! - -Turning abruptly away, she glanced at the small time-piece on her -dressing-table. It was three o’clock. Then she took off her navy -linen gown,--one of the “serviceable,” ugly sort of things her -father was never tired of recommending for her wear,--and slipped on -a plain little white wrapper which she had made for herself out of a -cheap length of nun’s veiling. She loosened her hair and brushed it -out,--it fell to her waist in pretty rippling waves, and it was full -of golden “glints,” so much so that spiteful persons of her own sex -had even said--“at her age it can’t be natural; it _must_ be dyed!” -Nevertheless, its curling tendency and its brightness were all its own, -but Diana took no heed of its beauty, and she would have been more -than incredulous had anyone told her that in this array, or, rather, -_dis_array, she had the appearance of a time-worn picture of some -delicate saint in a French mediæval “Book of Hours.” But such was her -aspect. And with the worn saint look upon her, she drew a reclining -chair to the window and lay down, stretching herself restfully at full -length, and gazing out to sea, her unopened letters on her lap. How -beautiful was that seemingly infinite line of shining water, melting -into shining sky!--how far removed from the little troubles and terrors -of the world of mankind! - -“I wonder----!” she murmured. The old story again!--she was always -wondering! Then, with eyes growing almost youthful in their intense -longing for comprehension, she became absorbed in one of those vague -reveries, which, like the things of eternity, have no beginning and no -end. She “wondered”--yes!--she wondered why, for example, Nature was so -grand and reasonable, and Man so mean and petty, when surely he could, -if he chose, be master of his own fate,--master of all the miracles of -air, fire and water, and supreme sovereign of his own soul! A passage -in a book she had lately been reading recurred to her memory. - -“If any man once mastered the secret of governing the chemical atoms of -which he is composed, he would discover the fruit of the Tree of Life -of which, as his Creator said, he would ‘take, eat and live for ever!’” - -She sighed,--a sigh of weariness and momentary depression, then began -turning over her letters and glancing indifferently at the handwriting -on each envelope, till one, addressed in a remarkably clear, bold -caligraphy, made her smile in evidently pleasurable anticipation. - -“From Sophy Lansing,” she said. “Dear little Sophy! She’s always -amusing, with her Suffragette enthusiasms, and her vivacious -independent ways! And she’s one of those very few clever women who -manage to keep womanly and charming in spite of their cleverness. Oh, -what a _fat_ letter!” - -She opened it and read the dashing scrawl, still smiling. - - “Dearest Di, - - “I suppose you are now settling down ‘by the sad sea waves’ with Pa - and Ma! Oh, you poor thing! I can see you hard at it like a donkey at - a well, trotting ‘in the common round, the daily task’ of keeping Pa - as tolerable in temper as such an old curmudgeon can be, and Ma as - reposeful under her burden of superfluous flesh as is at all possible. - What a life for you, patient Grizel! Why don’t you throw it up? You - are really clever, and you could do so much. This is Woman’s Day, and - you are a woman of exceptional ability. You know I’ve asked you over - and over again to retire from the whole domestic ‘show,’ and leave - those most uninteresting and selfish old parents of yours to their own - devices, with a paid housekeeper to look after their food, which is - all they really care about. Come and live with me in London. We should - be quite happy together, for I’m good-natured and sensible, and so are - you, and we’re neither of us contending for a man, so we shouldn’t - quarrel. And you’d wake up, Diana!--you’d wake to find that there - are many more precious things in life than Pa and Ma! I could even - find you a few men to entertain you, though most of them become bores - after about an hour--especially the ones that think themselves vastly - amusing. Like your Pa, you know!--who, when he tells a very ancient - ‘good story,’ thinks that God Himself ought to give up everything else - to listen to him! No, don’t be shocked! I’m not really irreverent--but - you know it’s true. Woe betide the hapless wight, male or female, who - dares utter a word while Pa Polydore is on the story trail! How I’ve - longed to throw things at him! and have only refrained for your sake! - Well! God a’ mercy on us, as Shakespeare’s Ophelia says, and defend us - from the anecdotal men! - - “You’ll perhaps be interested to hear that a proposal of marriage - was made to me last night. The bold adventurer is rather like your - Pa,--well ‘on’ in years, rich, with a prosperous ‘tum’--and a general - aspect of assertive affluence. I said ‘No,’ of course, and he asked me - if I knew what I was doing? Exactly as if he thought I might be drunk, - or dreaming! I replied that I was quite aware of myself, of him, and - the general locality. ‘And yet you say No?’ he almost whispered, in a - kind of stupefied amazement. I repeated ‘No’--and ‘No,’--and clinched - the matter by the additional remark that he was the last sort of man - I would ever wish to marry. Then he smiled feebly, and said ‘Poor - child!--you have been sadly led astray! These new ideas----’ I cut - him short by ringing the bell and ordering tea, and fortunately just - at the moment in came Jane Prowser--_you_ know her!--the tall, bony - woman who goes in for ‘Eugenics,’ and she did the scarecrow business - quite effectively. As soon as she began to talk in her high, rasping - voice he went! Then I had tea alone with the Prowser--rather a trying - meal, as she would, she _would_ describe in detail all the deformities - and miseries of a child ‘wot ’adn’t no business to be born,’ as my - housemaid once remarked of a certain domestic upset. However, I got - rid of her after she had eaten all the cress and tomato sandwiches, - and then I started to read a batch of letters from abroad. I’m so - thankful for my foreign correspondents!--they write and spell so well, - and always have something interesting to say. One of my great friends - in Paris, Blanche de Rouailles, sent me a most curious advertisement, - which she tells me is appearing in all the French papers--I enclose - it for you, as you are so ‘scientific’ and it may interest you. It is - rather curiously worded and sounds ‘uncanny!’ But it occupies nearly - half a column in all the principal Paris papers and is repeated in - five different languages,--French, Italian, Spanish, Russian and - English. I suppose it’s a snare or a ‘do’ of some sort. The world - is full of scoundrels, even in science! Now remember what I tell - you! Come to me at once if Pa and Ma kick over the traces and allow - their ingrained selfishness to break out of bounds. There’s plenty of - room for you in my cosy little flat and we can have a real good time - together. Don’t bother about money,--with your talent and knowledge - of languages you can soon earn some, and I’ll put you in the way of - it. You really must do something for your own advantage,--surely you - don’t mean to waste your whole life in soothing Pa and massaging Ma? - It may be dutiful but it must be dull! I don’t think all the massaging - in the world will ever reduce Ma to normal proportions, and certainly - nothing can ever cure Pa of his detestable humours which are always - lurking in ambush below his surface ‘manner,’ ready to jump out like - little black devils on the smallest provocation. We can never be - really grateful enough, dear Di, for our single blessedness! Imagine - what life would have been for us with husbands like Pa! Absolute - misery!--for you and I could never have taken refuge in food and fat - like Ma! We would have died sooner than concentrate our souls on peas - and asparagus!--we would have gone to the stake like martyrs rather - than have allowed our bosoms to swell with the interior joys of roast - pork and stuffing! Oh yes!--there is much to be thankful for in our - spinsterhood,--we can go to our little beds in peace, knowing that - no pig-like snoring from the ‘superior’ brute will disturb the holy - hours of the night!--and if we _are_ clever enough to make a little - money, we can spend it as we like, without being cross-examined as to - why it is that the dress we wore four years ago is worn out, and why - we must have another! I could run on for pages and pages concerning - the blessings and privileges of unmarried women, but I’ll restrain - my enthusiasm till we meet. Let that meeting be soon!--and remember - that I am always at your service as a true friend and that I’ll do - anything in the world to help you out of your domestic harness. For - the old people who ‘drive’ you can’t and won’t see what a patient, - kind, helpful clever daughter they’ve got, and they don’t deserve to - keep you. Let them spend their spare cash on a housekeeper, who is - sure to cheat them (and a good job too!) and take your freedom. Get - away!--never mind how, or where, or when,--but don’t spend all your - life in drudging. You’ve done enough of it--get away! This is the best - of good advice from your loving friend, - - “Sophy Lansing.” - - -A slight shadow of meditative gravity clouded Diana’s face as she -finished reading this letter. She was troubled by her own thoughts; -Sophy’s lively strictures on her parents were undoubtedly correct and -deserved,--and yet--“father and mother” were “father and mother” after -all! It is curious how these two words still keep their sentimental -significance, despite “state” education! “Mother” in the lower classes -is often a drab, and in the higher a frivolous wastrel; “father” in the -slums may beat his children black and blue, and in Mayfair neglect them -to the point of utmost indifference,--but “mother and father,” totally -undeserving as they often are, still come in for a share of their -offspring’s vague consideration and lingering respect. “Education” of -the wrong sort, however, is doing its best to deprive them of this -regard, and it appears likely that the younger generation will soon be -so highly instructed as to be able to ignore “mother and father” as -easily as full-fledged cygnets ignore the parent birds who drive them -away from their nesting haunts. But Diana was “old-fashioned”; she had -an affectionate nature, and she took pathetic pains to persuade herself -that “Pa” and “Ma” meant to be kind, and must in their hearts love her, -their only child. This was pure fallacy, but it was the only little -bit of hope and trust left to her in a hard world, and she was loth -to let it go. The smallest expression of tenderness from that ruffled -old human terrier, her father, would have brought her to his feet, an -even more willing slave to his moods than she already was,--a loving -embrace from her mother would have moved her almost to tears of joy -and gratitude, and would have doubly strengthened her unreasoning and -unselfish devotion to the “bogey” of her duty. But she never received -any such sign of affection or encouragement from year’s end to year’s -end,--and it was like a strange dream to her now to recall that when -she had been young, in the time of her “teens,” her father had called -her his “beautiful girl,” and her mother had chosen pretty frocks for -her “darling child!” Youth and the prospects of marriage had made this -difference in the temperature of parental tenderness. Now that she was -at that fatal stop-gap called “middle-age” and a hopeless spinster, -the pretty frocks and the “beautiful-girl-darling-child” period had -vanished with her matrimonial chances. There was no help for it. - -At this point in her thoughts she gave a little half-unconscious -sigh. Mechanically she folded up Sophy Lansing’s letter, and as she -did so, noticed that a slip of printed paper had fallen out of it -and lay on the floor. She turned herself on her reclining chair and -stooped for it,--then as she picked it up realised that it must be -the advertisement in the five different languages which her friend -had mentioned. Glancing carelessly over it at first, but afterwards -more attentively, her interest was aroused by its unusual wording, and -then as she read it over and over again she found in it a singular -attraction. It ran as follows: - - “To ANY WOMAN who is alone in the world WITHOUT CLAIMS on HER TIME or - HER AFFECTIONS. - - “A SCIENTIST, engaged in very IMPORTANT and DIFFICULT WORK, requires - the ASSISTANCE and CO-OPERATION of a Courageous and Determined Woman - of mature years. She must have a fair knowledge of modern science, and - must not shrink from dangerous experiments or be afraid to take risks - in the pursuit of discoveries which may be beneficial to the human - race. Every personal care, consideration and courtesy will be shown - towards her, and she will be paid a handsome sum for her services - and be provided with full board and lodging in an elegant suite of - apartments placed freely at her disposal. She must be prepared to - devote herself for one or two years entirely to the study of very - intricate problems in chemistry, concerning which she will be expected - to maintain the strictest confidence. She must be well educated, - especially in languages and literature, and she must have no ties of - any kind or business which can interrupt or distract her attention - from the serious course of training which it will be necessary for - her to pursue. This Advertisement cannot be answered by letter. Each - applicant must present herself personally and alone between the hours - of 6 a.m. and 8 a.m. on Tuesdays and Fridays only to - - “DR. FÉODOR DIMITRIUS, - “Château Fragonard, - “Geneva.” - -The more Diana studied this singular announcement, the more remarkable -and fascinating did it seem. The very hours named as the only suitable -ones for interviewing applicants, between six and eight in the morning, -were unusual enough, and the whole wording of the advertisement implied -something mysterious and out of the common. - -“Though I dare say it is, as Sophy suggests, only a snare of some -sort,” she thought. “And yet to me it sounds genuine. But I don’t -think this Dr. Féodor Dimitrius will get the kind of woman he wants -easily. A handsome salary with board and lodging are tempting enough, -but few women would be inclined to ‘take risks’ in the inventions -and discoveries of modern science. Some of them are altogether too -terrible!” - -She read the advertisement carefully through again, then rose and -locked it away in her desk with Sophy Lansing’s letter. She glanced -through the rest of her correspondence, which was not exciting,--one -note asking for the character of a servant, another for the pattern -of a blouse, and a third enclosing a recipe for a special sort of jam, -“with love to your sweet kind mother!” - -She put them all by, and stretching her arms languidly above her head, -caught another glimpse of herself in the mirror. This time it was -more satisfactory. Her hair, hanging down to her waist, was full of a -brightness, made brighter just now by the sunlight streaming through -the window, and her nun’s veiling “rest gown” had a picturesque grace -in its white fall and flow which softened the tired look of her face -and eyes into something like actual prettiness. The fair ghost of her -lost youth peeped at her for a moment, awakening a smarting sense of -regretful tears. A light tap at the door fortunately turned the current -of her thoughts, and the maid Grace Laurie entered, bearing a dainty -little tray with a cup of tea invitingly set upon it. - -“I’ve just taken some tea to Mrs. May in her bedroom,” she said. “And I -thought you’d perhaps like a cup.” - -“You’re a treasure, Grace!”--and Diana sat down to the proffered -refreshment. “What shall we all do when you go away to be married?” - -Grace laughed and tossed her head. - -“Well, there’s time enough for that, miss!” she replied. “_He_ ain’t -in no hurry, nor am I! You see when you’re married you’re just done -for,--there’s no more fun. It’s drudge, wash, cook and sew for the rest -of your days, and no way of getting out of it.” - -Diana, sipping her tea, looked at her, smiling. - -“If that’s the way you think, you shouldn’t marry,” she said. - -“Oh yes, I should!” and Grace laughed again. “A woman like me wants a -home and a man to work for her. I don’t care to be in service all my -days,--I may as well wash and sew for a man of my own as for anybody -else.” - -“But you love him, don’t you?” asked Diana. - -“Well, he isn’t much to love!” declared Grace, with twinkling eyes. -“His looks wouldn’t upset anyone’s peace! I’ve never thought of love at -all--all I want is to be warm and comfortable in a decent house with -plenty to eat,--and a good husband is a man who can do that, and keep -it going. As for loving, that’s all stuff and nonsense!--as I always -say you should never care more for a man with your ’ed than you can -kick off with your ’eels.” - -This profound utterance had the effect of moving Diana to the most -delightful mirth. She laughed and laughed again,--and her laughter was -so sweet and fresh that it was like a little chime of bells. Her voice, -as already hinted, was her great charm, and whether she laughed or -spoke her accents broke the air into little bars of music. - -“Oh, Grace, Grace!” she said, at last. “You are too funny for words! -I must learn that wise saying of yours by heart! What is it? ‘Never -care more for a man with your ’ed than you can kick off with your -’eels’?--Splendid! And you mean it?” - -Grace nodded emphatically. - -“Of course I mean it! It don’t do to care too much for a man,--he’s -always a sort o’ spoilt babe, and what he gets easy he don’t care for, -and what he can’t have he’s always crying, crying after. You’ll find -that true, Miss Diana!” - -The sparkle of laughter quenched itself in Diana’s eyes and left her -looking weary. - -“Yes--I daresay you are right,” she said--“quite right, Grace!” And -looking up, she spoke slowly and rather sadly. “Perhaps it’s true--some -people say it is--that men like bad women better than good,--and that -if a woman is thoroughly selfish, vain and reckless, treating men with -complete indifference and contempt, they admire her much more than if -she were loving and faithful.” - -“Of course!” assented Grace, positively. “Look at Mrs. -Potter-Barney!--the one the halfpenny newspapers call the ‘beautiful -Mrs. Barney’! I know a maid who was told by another maid that she got -five hundred guineas for a kiss!--and Lady Wasterwick has had thousands -of pounds for----” - -Diana held up a hand,--she smiled still, but a trifle austerely. - -“That will do, Grace!” - -Grace coughed discreetly and subsided. - -“Is mother still lying down?” then asked Diana. - -“Yes, miss. She’ll be on her bed till the dinner dressing bell rings. -And Mr. May’s asleep over his newspaper in the garden.” - -Again Diana laughed her clear, pretty laugh. The somnolent habits of -her parents were so enlivening, and made home-life so cheerful! - -“Well, all right, Grace,” she said. “If there’s nothing for me to do I -shall go for a walk presently. So you’ll know what to say if I’m asked -for.” - -Grace assented, and then departed. Diana finished her cup of tea in -meditative mood,--then, resolving to throw her retrospective thoughts -to the winds, prepared to go out. It was an exceptionally fine -afternoon, warm and brilliant, and instead of her navy linen gown -which had seen considerable wear and tear, she put on a plain white -one which became her much better than the indigo blue, and, completing -her costume with a very simple straw hat and white parasol, she went -downstairs and out of the house into the garden. She had meant to -avoid her father, whom she saw on the lawn, under the spreading boughs -of a cedar tree, seated in one rustic arm-chair, with his short legs -comfortably disposed on another, and the day’s newspaper modestly -spread as a coverlet over his unbuttoned waistcoat,--but an inquisitive -wasp happening to buzz too near his nose he made a dart at it with one -hand, and opening his eyes, perceived her white figure moving across -the grass. - -“Who’s that? What’s that?” he called out, sharply. “Don’t glide about -like a ghost! Is it you, Diana?” - -“Yes,--it’s me,” she replied, and came up beside him. - -He gave her a casual look,--then sniffed and smiled sardonically. - -“Dear me! How fine we are! I thought it was some young girl of the -neighbourhood leaving cards on your mother! Why are you wearing white? -Going to a wedding?” - -Diana coloured to the roots of her pretty hair. - -“It’s one of my washing frocks,” she submitted. - -“Oh, is it? Well, I like to see you in dark colours--they are more -suited to--to your age. Only very young people should wear white.” - -He yawned capaciously. “Only very young people,” he repeated, closing -his eyes. “Try and remember that.” - -“Mrs. Ross-Percival wears white,” said Diana, quietly. “You are always -holding her up to admiration. And she’s sixty, if she’s a day.” - -Mr. Polydore May opened his eyes and bounced up in his chair. - -“Mrs. Ross-Percival is a very beautiful woman!” he snapped out. “One of -_the_ beautiful women of society. And she’s married.” - -“Oh, yes, she’s a grandmother,” murmured Diana, smiling. “But you don’t -tell _her_ not to wear white.” - -“Good God, of course not! It’s no business of mine! What are you -talking about? She’s not my daughter!” - -Diana laughed her pretty soft laugh. - -“No, indeed! Poor Pa! That _would_ be terrible!--she’d make you seem so -old if she were! But perhaps you wouldn’t mind as she’s so beautiful!” - -Mr. May stared at her wrathfully with the feeling that he was being -made fun of. - -“She _is_ beautiful!” he said, firmly. “Only a jealous woman would dare -to question it!” - -Diana laughed again. - -“Very well, she _is_ beautiful! Wig and all!” she said, and moved away, -opening her parasol as she passed from the shadow of the cedar boughs -into the full sun. - -“She’s getting beyond herself!” thought her father, watching her as she -went, and noting what he was pleased to consider “affectation” in her -naturally graceful way of walking. “And if she once begins that sort of -game, she’ll be unbearable! Nothing can be worse than an old maid who -gets beyond herself or above herself! She’ll be fancying some man is in -love with her next!” - -He gave a snort of scorn and composed himself to sleep again; meanwhile -Diana had left the garden and was walking at an easy pace, which was -swift without seeming hurried, down to the sea shore. It was very -lovely there at this particular afternoon hour,--the tide was coming -in, and the long shining waves rolled up one after the other in smooth -lines of silver on sand that shone in wet patches like purest gold. The -air was soft and warm but not oppressive, and as the solitary woman -lifted her eyes to the peaceful blue sky arched like a sheltering dome -above the peaceful blue sea, her solitude was for the moment more -intensified. More keenly than ever she felt that there was no one to -whom she could look for so much as a loving word,--not in her own -home, at any rate. Her friends were few; Sophy Lansing was one of the -most intimate,--but Sophy lived such a life of activity, throwing her -energies into so many channels, that it was not possible to get into -very close or constant companionship with her. - -“While I live,” she said to herself, deliberately, “I shall have no one -to care for me--I must make up my mind to that. And when I die,--if I -go to heaven there will be no one there who cares for me,--and, if I -go to hell, no one there either!” She laughed at this idea, but there -were tears in her eyes. “It’s curious not to have anyone on earth or in -heaven or hell who wants you! I wonder if there are many like that! And -yet--I’ve never done anything wicked or spiteful to deserve being left -so unloved.” - -She had come to a small, deep cove, picturesquely walled in by high -masses of rock whose summits were gay with creeping plants, grass and -flowers, and though the sea was calm, the pressure of the incoming tide -through the narrow inlet made waves that were almost boisterous, as -they rushed in and out with a musical splash and roar. It was hardly -safe or prudent to walk further on. “Any of those waves could carry -one off one’s feet in a minute,” she thought, and went upwards from -the beach beyond the highest mark left by the fringes of the sea, -where the fragments of an old broken boat made a very good seat. Here -she rested awhile, allowing vague ideas of a possible future to drift -through her brain. The prospect of a visit to Sophy Lansing seemed -agreeable enough,--but she very well knew that it would be opposed by -her parents,--that her mother would say she could not spare her,--and -that her father would demand angrily: - -“What have I taken this seaside house for? Out of pure good-nature and -unselfishness, just to give you and your mother a summer holiday, and -now you want to go away! That’s the way I’m rewarded for my kindness!” - -If anyone had pointed out that he had only thought of himself and his -own convenience in taking the “seaside house,” and that he had chosen -it chiefly because it was close to the golf links and also to the -Club, where there was a billiard-room, and that his “women folk” were -scarcely considered in the matter at all, he would have been extremely -indignant. He never saw himself in any other light but that of justice, -generosity and nobility of disposition. Diana knew his “little ways,” -and laughed at them though she regretted them. - -“Poor Pa!” she would sigh. “He would be so much more lovable if he were -not quite so selfish. But I suppose he can’t help it.” - -And, on turning all the pros and cons over in her mind, she came to -the conclusion that it would not be fair to leave her mother alone to -arrange all the details of daily life in a strange house and strange -neighbourhood where the tradespeople were not accustomed to the worthy -lady’s rather vague ideas of domestic management, such as the ordering -of the dinner two hours before it ought to be cooked, and other similar -trifles, resulting in kitchen chaos. - -“After all, I ought to be very contented!” and lifting her head, she -smiled resignedly at the placid sea. “It’s lovely down here,--and -I can always read a good deal,--and sew,--I can finish my bit of -tapestry,--and I can master that wonderful new treatise on Etheric -Vibration----” - -Here something seemed to catch her breath,--she felt a curious -quickening thrill as though an “etheric vibration” had touched her own -nerves and set them quivering. Some words of the advertisement she -had lately read sounded on her ears as though spoken by a voice close -beside her: - -“She must have a fair knowledge of modern science and must not shrink -from dangerous experiments, or be afraid to take risks in the pursuit -of discoveries which may be beneficial to the human race.” - -She rose from her seat a little startled, her cheeks flushing with the -stir of some inexplicable excitement in her blood. - -“How strange that I should think of that just now!” she said. “I -wonder”--and she laughed--“I wonder whether I should suit Dr. Féodor -Dimitrius!” - -The idea amused her,--it was so new,--so impracticable and absurd! Yet -it remained in her mind, giving sparkle to her eyes and colour and -animation to her face as she walked slowly home in a sort of visionary -reverie. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Within a very few days of their “settling down” at Rose Lea, everybody -in the neighbourhood,--that is to say, everybody of “county” -standing--that height of social magnificence--had left their cards on -Mr. and Mrs. Polydore May. They had, of course, previously made the -usual private “kind inquiries,”--first as to the newcomers’ financial -position, and next as to their respectability, and both were found to -be unimpeachable. One of the most curious circumstances in this curious -world is the strictness with which certain little bipeds inquire into -the reported life and conduct of other little bipeds, the inquisitors -themselves being generally the most doubtful characters. - -“Funny little man, that Mr. May!” said the woman leader of the “hunting -set,” who played bridge all day and as far into the night as she could. -“Like a retired tradesman! Must have sold cheese and butter at some -time of his life!” - -“Oh, no!” explained a male intimate, whose physiognomy strangely -resembled that of the fox he chased all the winter. “He made his pile -in copper.” - -“Oh, did he? Then he’s quite decent?” - -“Quite!” - -“That daughter of his----” - -Here a snigger went round the “county” company. They were discussing -the new arrivals at their afternoon tea. - -“Poor old thing!” - -“Must be forty if she’s a day!” - -“Oh, give the dear ‘girl’ forty-five at least!” said a Chivalrous -Youth, declining tea, and helping himself to a whisky-soda at the -side-board. - -“They say she was jilted.” - -“No wonder!” And a bleating laugh followed this suggestion. - -“I suppose,” remarked one man of gloomy countenance and dyspeptic eye, -“I suppose it’s really unpardonable for a woman to get out of her -twenties and remain unmarried, but if it happens so I don’t see what’s -to be done with her.” - -“Smother her!” said the Chivalrous Youth, drinking his whisky. - -Everybody laughed. What a witty boy he was!--no wonder his mother was -proud of him! - -“We shall have to ask her to one or two tennis parties,” said the woman -who had first spoken. “We can’t leave her out altogether.” - -“She doesn’t play,” said the gloomy man. “She told me so. She reads -Greek.” - -A shrill chorus of giggles in falsetto greeted this announcement. - -“Reads Greek! How perfectly dreadful! A blue-stocking!” - -“No! Really! It’s _too_ weird!” exclaimed the bridge-and-hunting lady. -“I hope she’s not an ‘art’ person?” - -“No.” And the gloomy man began to be cheerful, seeing that his talk -had awakened a little interest. “No, not at all. She told me she liked -pictures, but hated artists. I said she couldn’t have pictures without -artists, and she agreed, but observed that fortunately all the finest -pictures of the world were painted by artists who were dead. Curious -way of putting it!” - -“Going off it?” queried the Chivalrous Youth, having now drained his -tumbler of drink. - -“No, I don’t think so. The fact is--er--she--well, she appeared to me -to be rather--er--clever!” - -Clever? Oh, surely not! The “county” dames almost shuddered. Clever? -She couldn’t be, you know!--not with that spoilt old-young sort of -face! And her hair! All dyed, of course! And her voice was very -affected, wasn’t it? Yes!--almost as if she were trying to imitate -Sarah Bernhardt! So stupid in a woman of her age! She ought to know -better! - -So the little vicious, poisonous, gossiping mouths jabbered and hissed -about the woman who was “left” like a forgotten apple on a bough to -wither and drop unregarded to the ground. No one had anything kind to -say of her. It mattered not at all that they were not really acquainted -with her personally or sufficiently to be able to form an opinion,--the -point with these precious sort of persons was, and always is, that an -unwanted feminine nonentity had arrived in the neighbourhood who was -superfluous, and therefore likely to be tiresome. - -“One can always leave her out of a dinner invitation,” said one woman, -thoughtfully. “It will be quite enough to ask Mr. and Mrs.” - -“Oh, quite!” - -Thus it was settled; meanwhile Diana, happily unconscious of any -discussion concerning her, went on the even tenor of her way, keeping -house for her parents, reading her favourite authors, studying her -“scientific” subjects, and working at her tapestry without any real -companionship save that of books and her own thoughts, and the constant -delight she had in the profusion of flowers with which the gardens of -Rose Lea abounded. These she arranged with exquisite taste and effect -in the various rooms, so artistically that on one occasion the vicar -of the parish, quite a dull, unimaginative man, was moved, during an -afternoon call, to compliment Mrs. Polydore May on the remarkable grace -with which some branches of roses were grouped in a vase on the table. -Mrs. May looked at them sleepily and smiled. - -“Very pretty, yes!” she murmured. “I used to arrange every flower -myself, but now my daughter Diana does it for me. You see she can give -her time to it,--she has nothing else to do.” - -The vicar smiled the usual smile of polite agreement to everything -which always gives a touch of sickliness to the most open countenance, -and said no more. Diana was not present, so she did not hear that her -mother considered she “had nothing else to do” but arrange flowers. -Even if she had heard it, she would hardly have contradicted it; it -was one of those things which she would not have thought worth while -arguing about. The fact that she governed all the domestic working -of the house so that it ran like a perfectly-going machine on silent -and well-oiled wheels, required no emphasis,--at least, not in her -opinion,--and though she knew that not one of the servants would have -stayed in Mrs. May’s service or put up with her vague, fussy, and often -sulky disposition, unless she, Diana, had “managed” them, she took no -credit to herself for the comfortable and well-ordered condition of -things under which her selfish old parents enjoyed their existence. -That she “had nothing else to do but arrange flowers” was a sort of -house tradition with “Pa” and “Ma” through which they found all manner -of excuse for saddling her with as much work as they could possibly -give her in the way of constant attendance on themselves. But she did -not mind. She was obsessed by the “Duty” fetish, which too often makes -prisoners and slaves of those who should be free. Like all virtues, -devotion to duty can become a vice if carried to excess, and it is -unquestionably a vice when it binds unselfish souls to unworthy and -tyrannical taskmasters. - -The summer moved on in shining weeks of sunlight and still air, and -Rose Lea lost nothing of its charm for Diana, despite the taint of the -commonplace with which the eating and sleeping silkworm-lives of her -parents invested it. Now and then a few visitors came from London,--men -and women of the usual dull type, bringing no entertainment in -themselves, and whose stay only meant a little more expenditure and -a more lavish display of food. One or two portly club friends of -James Polydore came to play golf and drink whisky with him, and they -condescended to converse with Diana at meals, because, perforce, they -thought they must,--but meals being over, they gave her no further -consideration, except to remark casually one to another: “Pity old -Polydore couldn’t have got that daughter off his hands!” And the long, -lovely month of August was nearly at its end when an incident happened -which, like the small displacement of earth that loosens an avalanche, -swept away all the old order of things, giving place to a new heaven -and a new earth so far as Diana was concerned. - -It had been an exceedingly warm day, and nightfall was more than -usually welcome after the wide glare of the long, sunlit hours. -Dinner was over, and Mr. and Mrs. Polydore May, fed to repletion and -stimulated by two or three glasses of excellent champagne, were resting -in a _dolce-far-niente_ condition, each cushioned within a deep and -luxurious arm-chair placed on either side of the open French windows -of the drawing-room. The lawn in front of them was bathed in a lovely -light reflected from the after-glow of the vanished sun and a pale -glimmer from the risen half-moon, which hung in soft brilliance over -the eastern half of the quiet sea. Diana had left her parents to their -after-dinner somnolence, and was walking alone in the garden, up and -down a grass path between two rose hedges. She was within call should -she be wanted by either “Pa” or “Ma,” but they were not aware of her -close proximity. Mr. May was smoking an exceptionally choice cigar,--he -was in one of his “juvenile” moods, and for once was not inclined to -take his usual “cat-nap” or waking doze. He had been to a tennis party -that afternoon and had worn, with a “young man’s fancy” a young man’s -flannels, happily unconscious of the weird appearance he presented in -that unsuitable attire,--and, encouraged by the laughter and applause -of the more youthful players, who looked upon him as the “comic man” -of the piece, he had acquitted himself tolerably well. So that for the -moment he had cast off the dignity and weight of years, and the very -air with which he smoked his cigar, flicking off the burnt ash now and -again in the affected style of a “young blood about town,” expressed -the fact that he considered himself more than a merely “well-preserved” -man, and that if justice were done him he would be admitted to be “a -violet in the youth of primy nature.” - -His better-half was not in quite such pleasant humour; she was -self-complacent enough, but the heat of the day had caused her to feel -stouter and more unwieldy than usual, and inclined to wish: - - “Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, - Thaw and dissolve itself into a dew!” - -When her husband lit his cigar, she had closed her eyes, thinking: -“Now there will be a little peace!” knowing that a good cigar to an -irritable man is like the bottle to a screaming baby. But Mr. May was -disposed to talk, just as he was disposed to admire the contour of his -little finger whenever he drew his cigar from his mouth or put it back -again. - -“There were some smart girls playing tennis to-day,” he presently -remarked. “One of them I thought very pretty. She was about seventeen.” - -His wife yawned expansively. She made no comment. - -“She was my partner,” went on Mr. May. “As skittish as you please!” - -Mrs. May cuddled herself together among her cushions. The slightest -glimmer of a smile lifted the corners of her pursy mouth towards her -parsimonious nose. Her husband essayed once more the fascinating -“flick” of burnt ash from his cigar. - -“They’d have been as dull as a sermon at tea-time if it hadn’t been for -me,” he resumed. “You see, I kept the ball rolling.” - -“Naturally!--it’s tennis,” murmured his wife, drowsily. - -“Don’t be a fool, Margaret! I mean I keep people amused.” - -“I’m sure you do!” his “Margaret” agreed, as she smothered another -yawn. “You’re the most amusing man I know!” - -“Glad you admit it!” he said, captiously. “Not being amusing yourself, -you ought to thank God you’ve got an amusing husband!” - -This time Mrs. May emitted a bleating giggle. - -“I do!” - -“Now if it were not for Diana----” - -His wife opened her eyes. - -“What about Diana?” - -“Well--Diana--put it how you like, but she’s Diana. She’ll never -be anything else! Our daughter, oh, yes!--I know all that!--hang -sentiment! Everybody calls her an old maid--and she’s in the way.” - -A light-footed figure pacing up and down the grass walk, unseen between -the two rose hedges close by, came to a sudden pause--listening. - -“She’s in the way,” repeated Mr. May, with somewhat louder emphasis. -“Unmarried women of a certain age always are, you know. You can’t -class them with young people, and they don’t like being parcelled -off with old folks. They’re out of it altogether unless they’ve got -something to do which takes them away from their homes and saves them -from becoming a social nuisance. They’re superfluous. ‘How is your -daughter?’ the women here ask me, with a kind of pitying smile, as -though she had the plague, or was recovering from small-pox. To be a -spinster over thirty seems to them a kind of illness.” - -“Well, it’s an illness that cannot be cured with Diana now!” sighed -Mrs. May. “Quite hopeless!” - -“Quite.” And her husband gave his chronic snort of ill-tempered -defiance. “It’s a most unfortunate thing--especially for _me_. You see, -when I go about with a daughter like Diana, it makes me seem so old!” - -“And me!” she interposed. “You talk only of yourself,--don’t forget me!” - -Mr. May laughed--a short, sardonic laugh. - -“_You!_ My dear Margaret, I don’t wish to be unkind, but really _you_ -needn’t worry yourself on that score! Surely you don’t suppose _you’ll_ -ever look young again? Think of your size, Margaret!--think of your -size!” - -Somewhat roused from her customary inertia by this remark, Mrs. May -pulled herself up in her chair with an assumption of dignity. - -“You are very coarse, James,” she said--“very coarse indeed! I consider -that I look as young as you do any day,--I ought to, for you are -fully eight years my senior--I daresay more, for I doubt if you gave -your true age when I married you. You want to play the young man, and -you only make yourself ridiculous,--I have no wish to play the young -woman, but certainly Diana, with her poor, thin face--getting so -many wrinkles, too!--does make me seem older than I am. She has aged -terribly the last three or four years.” - -“She’ll never see forty again,” said Mr. May, tersely. - -Mrs. May rolled up her eyes in pained protest. - -“Why _say_ it?” she expostulated. “You only give yourself and me away! -We are her parents!” - -“I don’t say it in public,” he replied. “Catch me! But it’s true. Let -me see!--why, Diana was born in----” - -His wife gave an angry gesture. - -“Never mind when she was born!” she said, with a tremble as of tears in -her voice. “You needn’t recall it! Our only child!--and she has spoilt -her life and mine too!” - -A faint whimper escaped her, and she put a filmy handkerchief to her -eyes. - -Mr. May took no notice. For women’s tears he had a sovereign contempt. - -“The fact is,” he said, judicially, “we ought to have trained her -to do something useful. Nursing, or doctoring, or dressmaking, or -type-writing. She would have had her business to attend to, which would -have kept her away from _Us_,--and I--we--could have gone about free as -air. We need never have mentioned that we had a daughter.” - -Mrs. May looked scrutinizingly at her lace handkerchief. She remembered -it had cost a couple of guineas, and now there was a hole in it. She -must tell Diana to mend it. With this thought uppermost in her always -chaotic mind, she said between two long-drawn sighs: - -“After all, James, poor Diana does her best. She is very useful in the -house.” - -“Stuff and nonsense! She does nothing at all! She spoils the servants, -if that is what you mean,--allows them to have their own way a great -deal too much, in my opinion! It amuses her to play at housekeeping.” - -“She doesn’t play at it,” remonstrated Mrs. May, weakly endeavouring -to espouse the cause of justice. “She is very earnest and painstaking -about it, and does it very well. She keeps down expenses, and saves me -a great deal of worry.” - -“Hm-m-m!” growled her husband. “It would do you good to be worried a -bit! Take down your weight! Of course, what can’t be cured must be -endured, but I’ve spoken the brutal truth,--Diana, at her age, and with -her looks, and all her chances of marriage gone, is _in the way_. For -instance, suppose I go to a new neighbour’s house, and I’m asked ‘Have -you any family?’--I reply: ‘Yes, one daughter.’ Then some fool of a -woman says: ‘Oh, do bring your girl with you next time!’ Well, she’s -not a ‘girl.’ I don’t wish to say she’s not, but if I do take her with -me ‘next time,’ everybody is surprised. You see, when they look at -_me_, they expect my daughter to be quite a young person.” - -Mrs. May sank gradually back in her chair, as though she were slowly -pushed by an invisible finger. - -“_Do_ they?” The query was almost inaudible. - -“Of course they do! And upon my soul, it’s rather trying to a man! You -ought to sympathise, but you don’t!” - -“Well, I really can’t see what’s to be done!” she murmured, closing -her eyes in sheer weariness. “Diana cannot help getting older, poor -thing!--and she’s our child----” - -“Don’t I know she’s our child?” he snapped out. “What do you keep on -telling me that for?” - -“Why, I mean that you can’t turn her out of the house, or say you don’t -want her, or anything of that sort. But I’m sure”--here, the round, -pale eyes opened appealingly over the buff-coloured cheeks--“I’m sure, -James, that if you don’t wish to take her out with you she’d never -dream of expecting you to do so. She’s very unselfish,--besides, she’s -so happy with her books.” - -“Books--books!--hang books!” he exclaimed, irascibly. “There’s another -drawback! If there’s one thing people object to more than another, it’s -a bookish spinster! Any assumption of knowledge in a woman is quite -enough to keep her out of society!” - -His wife yawned. - -“I dare say!” she admitted. “But I can’t help it.” - -“You want to go to sleep,--that’s what _you_ want!” said Mr. May, -contemptuously. “Well, sleep!--I’m going over to the Club.” - -She murmured an inward “Thank God!” and settled down in her chair to -her deferred and much desired doze. Mr. May threw on his cap,--one of a -jaunty shape, which he fondly imagined gave him the look of a dashing -sportsman of some thirty summers--and stepped out on to the now fully -moonlit lawn, crossing it at as “swinging” a pace as his little legs -would allow him, and making for the high road just outside the garden -gates. - -Not till he had disappeared did the figure which had stayed -statuesquely still between the two rose hedges show any sign of -movement. Then it stirred, its dark grey draperies swaying like mist in -a light wind. The bright moonlight fell on its uplifted face,--Diana’s -face, pale always, but paler than ever in that ghostly radiance from -the skies. She had heard all,--and there was a curious sense of -tightening pain in her throat and round her heart, as if an overflow -of tears or laughter struggled against repression. She had stood in -such a motionless attitude of strained attention that her limbs felt -cramped and stiff, so that when she began to walk it was almost with -difficulty. She turned her back to the house and went towards the sea, -noiselessly opening the little white gate that led to the shore. She -was soon on the smooth soft sand where the little wet pools glittered -like silver in the moon, and, going to the edge of the sea, she stood -awhile, watching wave after wave glide up in small, fine lines and -break at her feet in a delicate fringe of snowy foam. She was not -conscious of any particularly keen grief or hurt feeling at the verdict -of her general tiresomeness which her parents had passed upon her,--her -thoughts were not in any way troubled; she only felt that the last -thing she had clung to as giving value to life,--her affection and duty -towards the old people,--was counted as valueless,--she was merely “in -the way.” Watching the waves, she smiled,--a pitiful little smile. - -“Poor old dears!” she said, tenderly,--and again: “Poor old dears!” - -Then there arose within her another impulse,--a suggestion almost -wildly beautiful,--the idea of freedom! No one wanted her,--not even -her father or her mother. Then was she not at liberty? Could she not -go where she liked? Surely! Just as a light globe of thistledown is -blown by the wind to fall where it will, so she could drift with the -movement of casual things anywhere,--so long as she troubled nobody by -her existence. - -“The world is wide!” she said, half-aloud, stretching her arms with an -unconscious gesture of appeal towards the sea. “I have stayed too long -in one small corner of it!” - -The little waves plashed one upon the other with a musical whisper as -though they agreed with her thought,--and yet--yet there was something -appalling in the utter loneliness of her heart. No one loved her,--no -one wanted her! She was “in the way.” Smarting tears filled her -eyes,--but they angered her by their confession of weakness, and she -dashed them away with a quick, defiant hand. She began to consider her -position coldly and critically. Her thoughts soon ranged themselves -in order like obedient soldiers at drill under their commanding -officer,--each in its place and ready for action. It was useless to -expect help or sympathy from anyone,--she would not get it. She must -stand alone. It is perhaps a little hard and difficult to stand alone -when one is a woman; it used to be considered cruel and pitiful, but -in these days it has become such a matter of course that no one thinks -about it or cares. The nature and temperament of woman as God made her, -have not altered; with all her “advancement,” she is just as amative, -as credulous, as tender, as maternal as ever she was, longing for man’s -love as her “right,” which it is, and becoming hardened and embittered -when this right is withheld from her,--but the rush of the time is too -swift and precipitous for any display of masculine chivalry on her -behalf; she has elected to be considered co-equal with man, and she is -now, after a considerable tussle, to be given her “chance.” What she -will make of the long-deferred privilege remains a matter of conjecture. - -Slowly, and with a vague reluctance, Diana turned away from the moonlit -sea; the murmur of the little waves followed her, like suggestive -whispers. A curious change had taken place in her mentality during the -last few minutes. She, who was accustomed to think only of others, now -thought closely and consistently of herself. She moved quietly towards -the house, gliding like a grey ghost across the lawn which showed -almost white in the spreading radiance of the moon,--the drawing-room -windows were still open, and Mrs. May was still comfortably ensconced -in her arm-chair, sleeping soundly and snoring hideously. Her daughter -came up and stood beside her, quite unobserved. Nothing could have been -more unlovely than the aspect she presented, sunk among the cushions, -a mere adipose heap, with her fat cheeks, small nose and open mouth -protruding above the folds of a grey woollen shawl which was her -favourite evening wear, her resemblance to a pig being more striking -than pleasing. But Diana’s watching face expressed nothing but the -gentlest solicitude. - -“Poor mother!” she sighed to herself. “She’s tired! And--and of course, -it’s natural she should be disappointed in me. I’ve not been a success! -Poor dear mother! God bless her!” - -She went out of the room noiselessly, and made her way upstairs. She -met Grace Laurie. - -“I’m going to bed, Grace,” she said. “I’ve got a tiresome headache, and -shall be better lying down. If mother wants to know where I am, will -you tell her?” - -“Yes, miss. Can I do anything for you?” Grace asked, for, as she often -said afterwards, she “thought Miss Diana looked a bit feverish.” - -“No, thanks very much!” Diana answered in her sweet-voiced, pleasant -manner. “Bed is the best place for me. Good-night!” - -“Good-night, miss.” And Diana entering her own room, locked the door. -She was eager to be alone. Her window was open, and she went to that -and looked out. All was silent and calm; the night was beautiful. The -sea spread itself out in gently heaving stretches of mingled light and -shade, and above it bent a sky in which the moon’s increasing splendour -swamped the sparkling of the stars. The air was very still,--not a -leaf on any small branch of tree or plant stirred. The scent of roses -and sweet-briar and honeysuckle floated upwards like incense from the -flower altars of the earth. - -“I am free!” murmured Diana to the hushed night. “Free!” - -And then, turning, she saw herself in the mirror, as she had already -seen herself that day,--only with a greater sense of shock. The -evening gown she wore, chosen to please her father’s taste, of dull, -dowdy-grey chiffon, intensified her worn and “ageing” look; the colour -of her hair was deadened by contrast with it, and in very truth she had -at that moment a sad and deplorably jaded aspect. - -“Free!” she repeated, in self-scorn. “And what is the use of freedom to -me at my age!--and with my face and figure!” - -She shrank from her own pitiful “double” in the glass,--it seemed -asking her why she was ever born! Then, she put away all doleful -thoughts that might weaken her or shake her already formed -resolution:--“Nothing venture, nothing have!” she said. And, shutting -her window, she drew the blinds and curtains close, so that no glimpse -of light from her room might be seen by her father when he should -cross the lawn on his return from the Club. She had plenty to do, and -she began to do it. She had a clear plan in view, and as she said to -herself, a trifle bitterly, she “was old enough” to carry it out. And -when all her preparations were fully made and completed, she went to -bed and slept peacefully till the first break of dawn. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -When morning came it brought with it intense heat and an almost -overpowering glare of sunshine, and Mr. James Polydore May, -stimulated by the warm atmosphere, went down to breakfast in a suit -of white flannels. Why not? A sportive and youthful spirit had -entered into him with his yesterday’s experience of tennis, and his -“skittish-as-you-please” partner of seventeen; and, walking with a -jaunty step, he felt that there was, and could be, no objection to the -wearing of white, as far as he was concerned. But--had he not said on -the previous day to his daughter, “Only very young people should wear -white?” Ah, yes--his daughter, as a woman, was too old for it! ... but -he,--why, if the latest scientific dictum is correct, namely, that -a man is only as old as his arteries, then he, James Polydore May, -was convinced that arterially speaking, he was a mere boy! True, his -figure was a little “gone” from its original slimness,--but plenty of -golf and general “bracing-up” would soon put that all right, so that -even the “skittish-as-you-please” young thing might not altogether -despise his attentions. Whistling gaily the charming tune of “Believe -me if all those endearing young charms,” he contemplated the well set -out breakfast table with satisfaction. He was first in the field that -morning, and his better half had not been at the fried bacon before -him, selecting all the best bits as was her usual custom. He sat down -to that toothsome dish and helped himself bountifully; then, missing -the unobtrusive hand which generally placed his cup of tea beside him, -he called to the parlour-maid: - -“Where’s Miss Diana? Isn’t she up?” - -“Oh, yes, sir. She was up very early--about six, I believe,--and she -went down to the cove to bathe, so she told the kitchen-maid.” - -“Not back yet?” - -“No, sir.” - -Mr. May pulled out his watch and glanced at it. It was half-past nine. -At that moment his wife entered the room. - -“Oh, you’re out of bed at last!” he said. “Well, now you can pour out -my tea and mind you don’t fill the cup too full. Diana hasn’t got back -from her dip.” - -Mrs. May was still rather sleepy, and, as usual, more or less -inattentive to her husband’s remarks. She began turning over the -letters the post had just brought for her, whereat Mr. May gave a sharp -rap on the table with the handle of a fork. - -“My tea!” he repeated. “D’ye hear? I want my tea!” - -Mrs. May rolled her pale eyes at him protestingly as she lifted the -teapot. - -“I hear perfectly,” she answered with an assumption of dignity. “And -please be civil! You can’t bully me as you bully Diana.” - -“I bully Diana! I!” And Mr. May gave a short, scornful laugh. “Come, -I like that! Why, the woman doesn’t know what bullying is! She’s had -a path of roses all her life--roses, I tell you! Never a care,--never -a worry,--no financial difficulties--always enough to eat, and a -comfortable home to live in. What more can she want? Bully, indeed! -If she had married that confounded officer for whom she wasted the -best seven years of her life, then she’d have known something about -bullying! Rather! And I daresay it ’ud have done her good. Better than -being an old maid, anyhow.” - -Mrs. May handed him his tea across the table. - -“I wonder where she is?” she questioned, plaintively. “I’ve never known -her so late before.” - -“Went out at six,” said Mr. May, with his mouth full of bacon. “The -kitchen-maid saw her go.” - -Mrs. May rang a small hand-bell at her side. - -The parlour-maid answered it. - -“Hasn’t Miss Diana come in?” - -“No, ’m.” - -Mrs. May rubbed her small nose perplexedly. - -“Who saw her go out?” - -“The kitchen-maid, ’m. She was cleaning the doorstep when Miss Diana -came out, and said she was going for a sea bath. That was about six -o’clock, ’m.” - -Again Mrs. May rubbed her nose. - -“Send Grace here.” - -“Yes, ’m.” - -Another minute, and Grace Laurie appeared. - -“Grace, did you see Miss Diana go out this morning?” - -“No, ’m. Last night I met her on the stairs, and she said she had a -headache and was going to bed early. I haven’t seen her since.” - -“Good heavens, Margaret, what a fuss you’re making!” here exclaimed Mr. -May. “One would think she’d been carried off in an aeroplane! Surely -she’s old enough to take care of herself! She’s probably gone for a -walk after bathing, and forgotten the time.” - -“That’s not like Miss Diana, sir,” ventured Grace, respectfully. “She -never forgets anything.” - -“Another cup of tea, Margaret, and look sharp!” interposed Mr. May, -testily. - -Mrs. May sighed, and poured hot water into the tea-pot. Then she -addressed Grace in a low tone. - -“Ask the kitchen-maid just what Miss Diana said.” - -Grace retired, and returned again quickly. - -“Miss Diana came down at about six this morning,” she said. “And Jenny, -the kitchen-maid, was the only one of us up. She was cleaning the -doorstep, and moved her pail for Miss Diana to pass. Miss Diana had on -her navy blue serge and black straw sailor hat, and she carried what -Jenny thought were her bathing things hanging over her arm. She was -very bright and said: ‘Good-morning, Jenny! I’m going for a dip in the -sea before the sun gets too hot.’ And so she went.” - -“And so she went--Amen!” said Mr. May, biting a hard bit of toast -noisily. “And so she’ll come back, and wonder what all the deuced fuss -is about. As if a woman of her age couldn’t go for a bath and a walk -without being inquired after as if she were a two-year-old! Are you -going to have your breakfast, Margaret?--or do you prefer to read your -letters first?” - -His wife made no reply. She was watching the boiling of an egg in a -small, specially constructed vessel for the purpose, which Diana had -added to the conveniences of the breakfast table. She was annoyed that -Diana herself was not there to attend to it. Diana always knew when the -egg was done to a turn. Grace still lingered in the room. Mrs. May, -languidly raising her fish-like eyes, saw her. - -“You can go, Grace.” - -“Yes, ’m. Shall I just run out to the shore and see if Miss Diana is -coming?” - -“Yes. And tell her to make haste back--I want her to do some shopping -in the village for me.” - -Grace left the room, closing the door behind her. A clock on the -mantelpiece gave several little sharp ting-tings. - -“What time is that?” asked Mrs. May. - -“Ten o’clock,” replied her husband, unfolding the day’s newspaper and -beginning to read. - -“Dear me! How very extraordinary of Diana to be out from six in the -morning till now!” And with the aid of a spoon she carefully lifted the -egg she had been watching as though it were the most precious object in -life out of the boiling water, in mournful doubt as to whether, after -all, it really was done perfectly. “It’s so unlike her.” - -“Well, you may be pretty certain no one has run away with her,” said -Mr. May, ironically. “She’s safe enough. The ‘dear child’ has not -eloped!” - -Mrs. May ignored both his words and his manner. She looked at him -meditatively over the lid of the silver teapot and permitted herself to -smile,--a small, fat, pursy smile. - -“Those white flannels have got rather tight for you, haven’t they?” she -suggested. - -He flushed indignantly. - -“Tight? Certainly not! Do they _look_ tight?” - -“Well--just a little!--but of course white always makes one appear -stout----” - -“Stout! _You_ talk about stoutness? _You!_ Why, I’m a paper-knife -compared to you!--a positive paper-knife! I believe you actually grudge -my wearing white flannels!” - -His wife laughed. - -“Indeed, no!” she declared. “It amuses me! I rather like it!” - -“I should think you did!” he retorted. “Or, if you don’t, you ought to!” - -She surveyed him pensively with round, lacklustre eyes. - -“What a long time it is!” she said--“What a long, long time since -you were thin!--really quite thin, James! Do you remember? When you -proposed to me in father’s dining-room and the parlour-maid came in and -lit the gas, just as you were going to----” - -“You seem very reminiscent this morning,” interrupted her husband, -sharply. “Do white flannels move you to sentiment?” - -“Oh, no!--not at all--not now!” she replied, with a small giggle. “Only -one cannot but think of the change between then and now--it’s almost -humorous----” - -“I should think it is!” he agreed. “It’s more than humorous! It’s -comic! What d’ye expect? When I think of what _you_ were!--a nice -little pink and white thing with a small waist,--and see you -_now_!”--here he snorted half contemptuously. “But there!--we can’t all -remain young, and you’re quite comfortable looking--a sort of pillow of -ease,--you might be worse----” - -Here their mutual personal compliments were interrupted by the hurried -entrance of Grace Laurie, looking pale and scared. - -“Oh ’m, I’m afraid some accident has happened to Miss Diana!” she said, -breathlessly. “I’ve been all the way down to the cove, and--and----” - -Here she suddenly burst out crying. Mr. May bounced up from his chair. - -“Deuce take the woman!--don’t stand there grizzling! What’s the matter? -Speak out!” - -Mrs. May stared feebly, her mouth opening slowly, like that of a fish -on dry land. - -“What--what is it, Grace?” she stammered. “You frighten me!” - -“Yes ’m, I know, but I can’t help it!” Grace answered, gaspingly. -“But--but I’ve been down to the cove--and all round in every place, and -there’s Miss Diana’s clothes all put together on the rocks, with her -shoes and hat and bathing towel, but--but--there’s no Miss Diana!” Here -her emotions got the better of her, and she gave a small scream. “Oh, -oh! I’m sure she’s drowned!--oh, Miss Diana, poor thing! I’m sure she’s -drowned!--she’s been carried off her feet by the waves!--there was a -high tide this morning, and I know she’s drowned! She’s drowned, she’s -drowned!” - -Her voice rose to a high shrill pitch, and she wrung her hands. - -Mrs. May struggled weakly out of her chair, and then dropped heavily -into it again. - -“Drowned! Diana! Don’t be foolish, Grace! It’s not possible!” - -Mr. May seized his cap and threw it on his head. - -“Here, I’ll soon put a stop to all this nonsense!” he said. “Let _me_ -get down to the cove,--what’s the good of a parcel of silly fools -of women shrieking and crying before they know what’s happened!” He -marched up to Grace Laurie and grasped her by the shoulder. “Now, be -calm! _Can_ you be calm?” - -Grace caught her breath, and wriggled herself away from the nip of his -fingers. - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Well, then, repeat what you said just now,--you went down to the cove -and saw----” - -“Miss Diana’s clothes,--all put by on the rocks, just as she always -puts them out of the way when she’s going to bathe,” said Grace. “And -her bathing towel,--that hasn’t been used. And her shoes and stockings. -But Miss Diana’s gone!” - -“Oh dear, oh dear!” moaned Mrs. May. “What dreadful, dreadful things -you are saying! What _are_ we to do? Oh, I feel so ill! My sweet -Diana!--my only, only precious child! Oh, James, James!” - -And with her face suddenly working up into all sorts of lines and -creases as though it were an india-rubber mask pulled from behind, she -began to weep slowly and tricklingly, like a tap with a stoppage in its -middle. - -“Be quiet!” shouted Mr. May fiercely. “You unnerve me with all -this snivelling!--and I won’t be unnerved! I’m going myself to the -cove--I’ll soon clear up this business! I don’t believe anything has -happened to Diana,--it’s a fine morning, and she’s probably enjoying -a swim,--she can swim like a fish--you know she can!--she _couldn’t_ -drown!” - -And with a half-suppressed oath he trotted out, all fuss and feathers, -like an angry turkey-cock, his whole mentality arrayed against fate and -circumstance, resolved to show that he was stronger than either. - -By this time the ill news had spread, and the servants, the gardeners, -and a few of the villagers went running down to the cove. It was true -there had been a high tide that morning,--there was yet the glistening -trail of the loftiest wave on the rocks where the freshly tossed -seaweed clung. Safe out of all possible reach of the water, and neatly -piled together on a ledge of rock, were Diana’s simple garments, as -Grace had said,--with her hat, stockings and shoes and the unused -bathing towel. A veteran sailor had joined the group of onlookers, and -now, drawing his pipe from his mouth, he asked: - -“What time did the leddy coom down ’ere?” - -Mr. May had by now lost a little of his self-assertiveness and was -feeling distinctly uncomfortable. He was not a man of sentiment; though -he could often feign emotion successfully enough to deceive the very -elect. But just now he was, as he would himself have said, “very much -upset.” He knew that he ought to appear to his own servants and to the -villagers like a fond father distracted with anxiety and suspense, and -he was aware that his dumpy figure in tight white flannels did not -“dress” the part. He replied curtly: - -“She was here a little before six, I’m told----” - -“Ah, poor thing, then she’s been carried out of her depth!” said the -old “salt.” “There’s a main deal o’ suction with the sea in this ’ere -cove when full tide cooms in----” - -“She’s an excellent swimmer,” said Mr. May, gazing at the sea in a -vaguely disappointed way, as though he thought each wave that swept -slowly in ought to bring Diana riding triumphantly on top of it. - -“Ay, ay!--that may be!--but swimmin’ winnot allers save a woman what’s -light weight an’ ain’t got the muscles of a man. There’s a force o’ -water ’ere sometimes as ’ud sweep a cart an’ ’oss off like a bit o’ -straw! Ay, ay!--she’s gone for sure! an’ mebbe her poor body’ll never -come nigh--leastways not ’ere,--it might, lower down the coast.” - -Here Grace Laurie, who was with the other servants watching, began to -cry bitterly. - -“Oh, Miss Diana!” she sobbed. “She was so good and kind! Oh, poor, dear -Miss Diana!” - -The old sailor patted her gently on the shoulder. - -“Now don’t ye fret, don’t ye fret, my girl!” he said. “We’re all -swept off our feet sooner or later, when the big tide cooms in!--some -goes first an’ others last,--but ’tis all the same! Now you just pull -yerself together an’ take the poor leddy’s clothes back ’ome--an’ I an’ -my mates will watch all along shore, an’ if we hears anythin’ or finds -anythin’----” - -Mr. May coughed noisily. - -“I am the father of the unfortunate lady,” he said stiffly. “I cannot -yet believe or realise this--this awful business; but anything you can -do will be suitably rewarded--of course----” - -“Thanky, sir, thanky! I makes no doubt on’t!--but I’ll not worrit ye -with the hows an’ the whens in yer sorrer, for sorrer ye must ’ave, for -all ye looks so dry. What we ’ears we’ll let ye know an’ what we finds -too----” - -And he subsided into silence, watching Grace, who, with choked sobs -and tears, took up Diana’s clothes as tenderly as if they were living -objects. Some of the other servants wept too, out of sympathy, and -Jonson, the butler, approached his master with solemn deference. - -“Will you take my harm, sir?” he said. - -Mr. May stared at him angrily,--then, remembering the circumstances, -assumed a melancholy and resigned air. - -“No, Jonson, thank you!” he answered. “I will walk home alone.” Then, -after a pause. “You and Grace had better see to Mrs. May,--prepare her -a little--it will be a terrible blow to her----” - -He turned away, and as he went, the group of sight-seers went also, -slowly dispersing and talking about the fatality in hushed voices, as -though they were afraid the sea would hear. - -The old sailor remained behind, smoking and watching the waves. -Presently he saw something on the surface of the water that attracted -his attention, and he went to the edge of the breaking surf and waited -till the object was cast at his feet. It was a woman’s white canvas -bathing shoe. - -“Ay! ’Tother’ll mebbe come in presently,” he said. “Poor soul!--they’se -washed off her feet,--she’s gone, for sure! I’ll keep this a bit--in -case ’tother comes.” - -And shaking it free from the sand and dripping water, he put it in his -jacket pocket, and resumed his smoky meditations. - -Meanwhile at Rose Lea the worst had been told. Mrs. May, weeping -profusely, and tottering like a sack too full to stand upright, -had been put to bed in a state bordering on collapse. Mr. May -occupied himself in sending off telegrams and writing letters; two -representatives of the local press called, asking for details of -the “Shocking Bathing Fatality,” which they secured, first from the -bereaved Mr. May himself, next from the butler, then from the maid, -then from the cook, and then from the kitchen-maid, “who ’ad been -the last to see the poor dear lady,” with the result that they had -a sufficiently garbled and highly-coloured account to make an almost -“sensational” column in their profoundly dull weekly newspaper. - -The day wore on,--the house was invested with a strange silence; -Diana’s presence, Diana’s busy feet tripping here and there on -household business might have been considered trifling things; but the -fact that she was no longer in evidence created a curious, empty sense -of loneliness. Mrs. May remained in bed, moaning and weeping drearily, -with curtains drawn to shut out the aggressively brilliant sunshine; -and Mr. May began to take a mysterious pleasure in writing the letters -which told his friends in London and elsewhere of his “tragic and -irreparable loss.” He surprised himself by the beautiful sentences he -managed to compose. “Our only darling child, who was so beloved and -precious to us and to all who knew her”--was one. “I shall do my best -to cheer and support my dear wife, who is quite prostrated by this -awful calamity,” was another. “You know how dear she was and how deeply -cherished!” was a third. Sometimes, while he was writing, a small -twinge of conscience hurt the mental leather whereof he was largely -composed, and he realised his own hypocrisy. He knew he was not really -sorry for what had happened. And yet--memory pointed him backward with -something of reproach to the day when Diana, a pretty and winsome -child, with fair hair dancing about her in bright curls, had clambered -on his knee and caressed his ugly face, as though it were an adorable -object,--and to the after time, when as a girl in the fine bloom of -early youth, she had gone with him to her first ball, sweet and fresh -as the roses which adorned her simple white gown, and had charmed -everyone by her grace, gentleness and exquisite speaking voice, which -in its softly modulated tones, exercised a potent witchery on all who -heard it. True,--she had missed all her chances,--or rather all her -chances had somehow missed _her_; and she had grown not exactly old, -but _passée_--and--it was a pity she had not married!--but now!--now -all her failures and shortcomings were for ever at an end! She was -drowned;--the sea had wedded her and set its salty weed among her hair -in place of the never-granted orange-blossom. Mr. May shivered a little -at this thought,--after all, the sea was a cold and cruel grave for -his only child! And yet no tear of human or fatherly emotion generated -itself out of his dry brain to moisten his hard little eyes. He -stiffened himself in his chair and resumed the writing of his letters -which announced the “sudden and awful bereavement” which had befallen -him, and was charmed by the ease with which the tenderest expressions -concerning his dead daughter flowed from his pen. - -And, after a long, sobbing, snoring sleep, Mrs. May woke up to the -practical every-day points of the situation and realised that there -could be no funeral. This was an awful blow! Unless--unless the -poor body of the drowned woman came ashore there could be no black -procession winding its doleful way through the flowering lanes of the -little Devonshire village, where it would have been picturesque to make -a “show” of mourning. So far, the sea had cheated the undertaker. - -“I cannot even put a wreath upon my darling’s coffin!” she moaned. “And -she loved flowers!” - -Fresh sobs and tears followed this new phase of misfortune. Mrs. May -was accustomed to find balm in Gilead for the death of any friend by -sending a wreath for the corpse,--and her husband had been heard to say -that if he died first he would be sure to have “a nasty wet wreath laid -on his chest before he was cold.” - -Most of the burden and heat of the day fell on the maid, Grace Laurie, -who had to take cups of soup, glasses of wine, and other strengthening -refreshment to Mrs. May in her bedroom, and to see that Mr. May “had -everything he wanted,” which is the usual rule of a house sustained -by the presence of a man. She was an honest, warm-hearted girl, and -was genuinely sorry for the loss of Diana, far more so than were the -“bereaved” parents. Once, during the later afternoon, when it was -verging towards sunset, she went to Diana’s room and entered it half -trembling, moved by a sort of superstitious fear lest she should -perhaps see the spirit of its late occupant. The window was open, and -a rosy glow from the sky flushed the white muslin curtains with pale -pink, and gave deeper colour to a posy of flowers in a vase on the -dressing-table. Everything was scrupulously tidy; the servants had made -the bed early in the morning, before the fatality had become known, and -the whole room had an attractive air of peaceful expectation as though -confident of its owner’s return. Grace opened the wardrobe,--there -were all the few dresses Diana possessed, in their usual places, -with two or three simple country hats. Was there anything missing? -No sooner did this thought enter her head than Grace began to search -feverishly. She opened drawers and boxes and cupboards,--but, so far -as she knew, everything was as it always appeared to be. Yet she could -not be quite sure. She was not Diana’s own maid, except by occasional -service and favour,--her duties were, strictly speaking, limited to -personal attendance on Mrs. May. Diana was accustomed to do everything -for herself, arranging and altering her own clothes, and even making -them sometimes, so that Grace never quite knew what she really had -in the way of garments. But as she looked through all the things -hurriedly, they seemed to be just what Diana had brought with her -from Richmond for the summer, and no more. The clothes found on the -sea-shore Grace had herself placed on one chair, all folded in a sad -little heap together. She opened the small jewel-box that always stood -on the dressing-table, and recognised everything in it, even to the -wristlet-watch which Diana always left behind when she went to bathe; -apparently there was nothing missing. For one moment a sudden thought -had entered her head, that perhaps Diana had run away?--but she as -quickly realised the absurdity of such an idea! - -“How stupid of me!” she said. “She had no cause to run away.” - -She looked round once again, sadly and hopelessly,--then went out and -closed the door softly behind her. She felt there was a something -mysterious and suggestive in that empty room. - -Towards dinner-time Mrs. May struggled out of bed and sat up in an -arm-chair, swathed in a voluminous dressing-gown. - -“I cannot go down to dinner!” she wailed, to Grace. “The very idea of -it is terrible! Tell Mr. May I want to speak to him.” - -Grace obeyed, and presently Mr. May came in obedience to the summons, -wearing a curious expression of solemn shamefacedness, as if he had -done a mean trick some time and had just been found out. His wife gazed -at him with red, watery eyes. - -“James,” she said, quaveringly, “it’s _dreadful_ to have to remember -what you said last night about poor Diana!--oh, it’s dreadful!” - -“What did I say?” he asked, nervously. “I--I forget----” - -“You said--oh, dear, oh, dear! I hope God may forgive you!--you said -Diana was ‘in the way!’ You did!--Our child! Oh, James, James! Your -words haunt me! You said she was ‘_in the way_,’ and now she has been -taken from us! Oh, what a punishment for your wicked words! And you a -father! Oh, how shall we ever get over it!” - -Mr. Polydore May sat down by his wife’s chair and looked foolish. He -knew he ought to say that it was indeed a dreadful thing, and that of -course they could never get over it,--but all the time he was perfectly -aware that the “getting over it” would be an easy matter for them both. -He had even already imagined it possible to secure a young and pretty -“companion housekeeper” to assist Mrs. May in the cares of domestic -management, and, when required, to wait upon James Polydore himself -with all that deferential docility which should be easy to command for -a suitable salary. That would be one way of “getting over it” quite -pleasantly,--but in reply to his wife’s melancholy adjuration, he -judged it wisest to be silent. - -She went on, drearily: - -“Fortunately I have one black dress; it belonged to my poor sister’s -set of mourning for her husband, but as she married again and went to -Australia within the year, it’s really as good as new, and she sold -it to me for a pound. And Grace can alter my bonnet; it’s black, but -it has a pink flower,--I must get a crape poppy instead, and black -gloves,--Oh, James!--and you wore white flannels this morning!--I’m -glad you’ve had the decency to change them!” - -Mr. May had certainly changed them,--partly out of conviction that -such change was necessary, and partly because Jonson, the butler, had -most urgently suggested it. And he was now attired in his “regulation” -Sunday suit, which gave him the proper appearance of a respectable J.P. -in mourning. All day he had practised an air of pious resignation and -reserved sadness;--it was difficult to keep it up because his nature -was captious and irascible, especially when things happened that -were opposed to his personal convenience and comfort. His efforts -to look what he was not gave him the aspect of a Methodist minister -disappointed in the silver collection. - -But perhaps on the whole, his wife was a greater humbug than he was. -She was one of those curious but not uncommon characters who imagine -themselves to be “full of feeling,” when truly they have no feeling -at all. Nobody could “gush” with more lamentable pathos than she over -a calamity occurring to any of her friends or acquaintances, but -no trouble had ever yet lessened her appetite, or deprived her of -sleep. Her one aim in life was to _seem_ all that was conventionally -correct,--to _seem_ religious, when she was not, to _seem_ sorry, when -she was not, to _seem_ glad, when she was not, to _seem_ kind, when -she was not, to _seem_ affectionate, when she was not. Her only real -passions were avarice, tuft-hunting and gluttony,--these were the -fundamental chords of her nature, hidden deep behind the fat, urbane -mask of flesh which presented itself as a woman to the world. There are -thousands like her, who, unfortunately, represent a large section of -the matronhood of Britain. - -The news of Diana’s sudden and sad end soon spread among the old and -new friends and neighbours of the Polydore Mays, arousing languid -comment here and there, such as: “Poor woman! But, after all, there -wasn’t much for her in life--she was quite the old maid!” Or,--as -at Mr. May’s club: “Best thing that could have happened for old -Polydore!--he can’t trot her round any more, and he’ll be able to play -the man-about-town more successfully!” - -Nobody gave a thought to the quiet virtues of the industrious, patient, -unaffected daughter who had devoted herself to the duty of caring for -and attending upon her utterly selfish parents,--and certainly nobody -ever remembered that her spinster-hood was the result of a too lofty -and faithful conception of love, or that her nature was in very truth -an exceptionally sweet and gracious one, and her intelligence of a much -higher order than is granted to the average female. In that particular -section of human beings among whom she had lived and moved, her career -was considered useless because she had failed to secure a mate and -settle down to bear the burden and brunt of his passions and his will. -And so, as she had never displayed any striking talent, or thrust -herself forward in any capacity, or shown any marked characteristic, -and as the world is over full of women, she was merely one of the -superfluous, who, not being missed, was soon forgotten. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -On that same eminently tragic afternoon when Mr. Polydore May found -it necessary to change his white flannels so soon after putting them -on, and his wife had to think seriously of a crape poppy for her -bonnet, two ladies sat in the charmingly arranged drawing-room of a -particularly charming flat in Mayfair enjoying their afternoon tea. -One was a graceful little woman arrayed in a captivating tea-gown; the -other, a thin, rather worn-looking creature with a pale face and bright -hair tucked closely away under a not very becoming felt hat, garbed -in a severely plain costume of dark navy serge. The butterfly person -in the tea-gown was Miss Sophy Lansing, a noted Suffragette, and the -authoress of a brilliantly witty satire entitled “Adam and His Apple,” -which, it was rumoured, had made even the Dean of St. Paul’s laugh. The -tired-featured woman with the air of an intellectual governess out of -place, was no other than the victim of the morning’s disastrous “death -by drowning,”--Diana May. Dead in Devonshire, she was alive in London, -and her friend, Sophy Lansing, was sitting beside her, clasping her -hands in a flutter of delight, surprise and amusement all commingled. - -“You dear!” she exclaimed. “How ever did you manage to get away? I -never was so astonished! Or so pleased! When I got your note by express -messenger, I could hardly believe my eyes! What time did you arrive in -town?” - -“About midday,” replied Diana. “I felt comfortably drowned by that -time,--and I lunched at the Stores----” - -“Drowned!” cried Sophy. “My dear, what _do_ you mean?” - -Diana released her hands from her friend’s eager grasp and took off her -hat. There was a gleam of whimsical humour in her eyes. - -“One moment, and I’ll explain everything,” she said. “But, first of -all, let me tell you why I sent you a message in advance, instead of -coming to you direct. It’s because I’m obliged for the present to be -like a travelling royalty, _incog._ Your servants must not know my -real name,--to them and to everybody else who sees me here, I’m Miss -Graham,--not Miss May. Miss May is dead! As Peggotty says in ‘David -Copperfield,’ she’s ‘drowndead.’ ‘Drowndead’ this very morning!” - -She laughed; Sophy Lansing looked as she felt, utterly bewildered. - -“You are a positive enigma, Diana!” she said. “Of course when I got -your note I understood you had some reason or other for wishing to be -_incog._, and I told my maids that I expected a friend to stay with me, -a Miss Graham, and that she would come this afternoon,--so _that’s_ all -right! But about the drowning business----” - -“You’ll see it mentioned, no doubt, in the papers to-morrow,” said -Diana. “Under various headings: ‘Bathing Fatality’ or ‘Sad End of a -Lady.’ And you’ll probably get a black-bordered letter from Ma, or Pa, -or both!” - -“Diana!” exclaimed Sophy, vehemently. “You are too provoking! Tell me -all about it!--straight!” - -“There’s not so very much to tell,” answered Diana, in her sweet, -mellow accents, thrilled at the moment by a note of sadness. “Only that -last night I had the final disillusion of my life--I found that my -father and mother did not really love me----” - -“Love you!” interrupted Sophy, heatedly. “You dear goose! There’s no -such thing as love in their composition!” - -“Maybe not,” said Diana. “But if there is, they’ve none to spare for -_me_. You see, dear Sophy, it’s all the fault of my silly conceit,--I -really thought I was useful, even necessary to the old people, and that -they cared for me, but when I heard my father say most emphatically -that I was ‘in the way,’ and my mother rather agreed to that, I made up -my mind to relieve them of my presence. Which I have done. For ever!” - -“For ever!” echoed Sophy. “My poor dear Diana----” - -“No, I’m not a poor dear Diana,” she answered, smiling,--“I’m a dead -and gone Diana! You will see me in the leading obituary columns of the -newspapers to-morrow!” - -“But how----” - -“The how and the when and the why are thus!” and Diana played with the -silken tassels of the girdle which belted in the dainty chiffon and -lace of her friend’s tea-gown. “This very morning, as ever was, I went -for my usual morning dip in the sea at a cove not a quarter of a mile -away from the house. I knew that at a certain hour there would be a -high tide, which, of course, on any other day I would have avoided. I -went to the spot, dressed in two of everything----” - -“Two of everything?” Sophy murmured bewilderedly. - -“Yes, you pretty little thick-head! Two of everything! Don’t you -see? Being as thin as a clothes’-prop, that was easy for me. Two -‘combys,’--two chemises, two petticoats, two serge gowns,--having no -figure I wear no corsets, so I didn’t have two of those. Two pairs of -knickers, two pairs of stockings,--one pair of shoes on, another pair -_off_ and carried secretly under my bathing gown along with my felt -hat, as to start with I wore a black straw one. Then, when I got to -the cove, I disrobed myself of one set of garments, and put them with -my straw hat and one pair of shoes all in an orderly heap on a rock -out of the way of the water, as any sensible person preparing to bathe -would do. Then I waited for the high tide. It came swiftly and surely, -and soon filled the cove,--big waves came with it, rolling in with -a splendid dash and roar, and at the proper psychological moment, I -threw in all my bathing things, as far out to sea as I could from the -summit of the rock where I stood--I saw them whirled round and round -in the whelming flood!--in the whelming flood, Sophy!--where my dear -Pa and Ma believe I also have been whelmed! Then, when they had nearly -disappeared in the hollow of a receding mass of water, I put on my -felt hat, and, completely clothed in my one set of decent garments, I -quietly walked away.” - -“Walked away? Where to?” - -“Not to the nearest railway station, you may be sure!” replied Diana. -“I might have been known there and traced. I’m a good walker, and -it was quite early--only a little after seven,--so I struck across -some fields and went inland for about six or eight miles. Then I came -upon a little out-of-the-way station connected with a branch line to -London--happily a train was just due, and I took it. I had saved five -pounds on the housekeeping last month,--I had intended to give them -back to my mother--but--considering everything--I felt I might take -that small sum for myself without so much as a prick of conscience! So -that’s my story--and here I am!” - -“And here you’ll stay!” said Sophy eagerly. “Not a soul shall know who -you are----” - -“I’ll stay for two or three days, but not longer,” said Diana. “I want -to get abroad as quickly as possible. And I’m afraid I shall have to -ask you to lend me a little money----” - -“I’ll lend or give you anything you want,” interrupted Sophy quickly. -“Surely you know that!” - -“Surely I know that you are one of the kindest-hearted little women in -the world!” said Diana. “And your wealthy old bachelor uncle never did -a wiser thing than when he left you two thousand a year! Why you remain -single I can never understand!” - -“That’s because you are a sentimental goose!” declared Sophy. “If -you were worldly wise you would see that it’s just that two thousand -that does it! The men who propose to me--and there are a good few of -them!--want the two thousand first, and me afterwards! Or rather, let -us say, some of them would be glad of the two thousand without me -altogether! All the nonsense in poetry books about love and dove, and -sigh and die, and moon and spoon doesn’t count! I’ve lived till I’m -thirty-five and I’ve never met a man yet who was worth a trickle of -a tear! They are all sensualists and money-grubbers,--polygamous as -monkeys!--and the only thing to be done with them is to make them work -to keep the world going, though even that seems little use sometimes.” - -“Sophy dear, are you becoming a pessimist?” asked Diana, half smiling. -“Surely it is a beautiful world!” - -“Yes--it’s beautiful in a natural way--but the artificiality of human -life in it is depressing and disgusting! Don’t let us talk of it!--tell -me why you are going abroad? What are your plans?” - -Diana took a neat leather case from her pocket and drew out of it a -folded slip of paper. - -“_You_ sent me that!” she said. - -“That advertisement!” she exclaimed. “The man who wants ‘Any woman -alone in the world, without claims on her time or her affections’? Oh, -Diana! You don’t mean it! You’re not really going on such a wild-goose -chase?” - -“What harm can it do?” said Diana, quietly. “I’m old enough to -take care of myself. And I fulfil all the requirements. I am a -woman of mature years--I’m courageous and determined, and I have a -fair knowledge of modern science. I’m well educated, especially in -‘languages and literature,’ thanks to my solitary studies,--and as I’ve -nothing to look forward to in the world I’m not afraid to take risks. -It really seems the very sort of thing for me! At any rate I can but go -and present myself, as suggested, ‘personally and alone’ to this Dr. -Dimitrius at Geneva,--and if he turns out an impostor, well!--Geneva -isn’t the worst of places, and I’m sure I could find something to do -as a teacher of music, or a ‘companion housekeeper.’ In any case I’m -determined to go there and investigate things for myself,--and whatever -money you are good enough to lend me, dear Sophy, be sure I’ll never -rest till I pay you back every penny!” - -Sophy threw an embracing arm round her and kissed her. - -“If you never paid me back a farthing I shouldn’t mind!” she said, -laughing. “Dear Di, I’m not one of those ‘friends’ who measure love by -money! Money and the passion for acquiring it make more than half the -hypocrisy, cruelty and selfishness of the age. But all the same I’m not -quite sure that I approve of this plan of yours----” - -“My dear Sophy, why should you _dis_approve? Just think of it! Here am -I, past forty, without any attraction whatsoever, no looks, no fortune, -and nothing to look forward to in life except perhaps the chance of -travel and adventure. I’m fond of studies in modern science, and I -believe I’ve read every book of note on all the new discoveries,--and -here’s a man who plainly announces in his advertisement that he needs -the assistance of a woman like me. There can be no harm done by my -going to see him. Very likely by the time I get to Geneva he’ll be what -the servants call ‘suited.’ Then I’ll try something else. For now, as -long as I live I’m alone in the world and must stand on my own.” - -“Do you mean to say that you’ll never go back to the old folks?” asked -Sophy. - -“How can I, when I’m dead!” laughed Diana. “No, no! It would be too -awful for them to see me turning up again just when I had ceased to be -in the way!” - -Sophy frowned. - -“Selfish old brutes!” she said. - -Diana demurred. - -“No, don’t say that!” she expostulated. “You must bear in mind that -I’ve been a terrible disappointment to them. They wanted me to marry -well,--for money rather than love--and when I wasted my youth for -love’s sake, of course they were angry. They thought me a fool,--and -really, so I was! I don’t think there _can_ be anything more foolish -than to sacrifice the best part of one’s life for any man. He is never -worth it,--he never understands or appreciates it. To him women are all -alike,--one as good or as bad as t’other. The mistake _we_ make is when -we fail to treat him as he treats _us_! He is a creature who from very -babyhood upwards should be whipped rather than spoilt. That is why he -is frequently more faithful to his mistress than his wife. He’s afraid -of the one, but he can bully the other.” - -Sophy clapped her hands. - -“Well said, Di! You begin to agree with me at last! Once upon a time -you were all for believing in the chivalrous thought and tenderness of -men----” - -“I _wanted_ to believe,” interrupted Diana, with a half smile--“I can’t -honestly say I did!” - -“No one can who studies life ever so superficially,” declared Sophy. -“Particularly the ordinary matrimonial life. A man selects a woman -entirely for selfish purposes--she may be beautiful and he wishes to -possess her beauty--or rich, and he wants the use of her money,--or -well-connected, and he seeks to push himself through her relations; -or a good cook and housekeeper and he wants his appetite well catered -for. As for children--well!--sometimes he wants them and more often -he doesn’t!--I remember what an awful fuss there was in the house -of an unfortunate friend of mine who had twins. Her husband was -furious. When he was told of the ‘interesting event’ he used the most -unedifying language. ‘Two more mouths to feed!’ he groaned. ‘Good -God, what a visitation!’ From the way he went on, you’d have thought -that he had had no share at all in the business! He didn’t mind -hurting his wife’s feelings or saying hard things to her,--not he! -And it’s the same story everywhere you go. A few months of delightful -courtship,--then marriage--then incessant routine of housekeeping, -illness and child-bearing--and afterwards, when the children grow up, -the long dull days of resigned monotony; toothlessness, which is only -partially remedied by modern dentistry, and an end of everything vital -or pleasurable! Except, of course, unless you kick over the traces and -become a ‘fast’ matron with your weather-eye open on all men,--but -that kind of woman is always such bad form. Marriage is not worth the -trouble it brings,--even children are not unmixed blessings. I’ve -never seen any I could not do without!--in fact”--and she laughed--“a -bachelor woman with two thousand a year doesn’t want a man to help her -to spend it!” - -“Quite true,” said Diana, with a slight sigh. “But I haven’t got two -thousand a year, or anything a year at all!” - -“Never mind!” and Sophy looked wisely confident--“you’ll have all you -want and more! Yes!--something tells me you are going to make a great -success----” - -“Sophy, Sophy! In what?” - -“Oh, I don’t know!” and the vivacious little lady jumped up from her -chair and shook out her filmy skirts and floating ribbons. “But I -feel it! It is one of those ‘waves’--what do you call them?--‘etheric -vibrations!’ Yes, that’s it! Don’t you feel those sort of things ever?” - -Diana had also risen, and as she stood upright, very still, there was a -curious look in her face of expectancy and wonder. - -“Yes,” she answered, slowly, “I felt one just now!” - -Sophy laughed merrily. - -“Of course! I imparted it to you! and you’re going to be a wonderful -creature!--I’m sure of it! Your poor brain,--so long atrophied by -the domestic considerations of Pa and Ma, is about to expand!--to -breathe!--to move!--to act! Yes, Diana!--Think of it! Cinderella shall -go to the Prince’s Ball!” - -Her bright laughter pealed out again, and Diana laughed too. - -“Come and see your room,” went on Sophy. “You’re here at any rate for -a day or two, and I’ll keep you as secretly and preciously as a saint -in a shrine. You’ve no luggage? Of course, I forgot!--I’ll lend you -a nightie!--and you must buy a lot of clothes to-morrow and a box to -pack them in. It won’t do for you to go abroad without any luggage. And -I’ll help you choose your garments, Di!--you must have something really -becoming!--something _not_ after the taste of ‘Pa’ or ‘Ma!’” - -“Am I to make a conquest of Dr. Féodor Dimitrius?” asked Diana, -playfully. “One would think you had that sort of thing in view!” - -“One never knows!” said Sophy, shaking a warning finger at her. “Dr. -Dimitrius may be hideous--or he may be fascinating. And whether hideous -or fascinating, he may be--amorous! Most men are, at moments!--and in -such moments they’ll make love to anything feminine.” - -“Not anything feminine of my age,” said Diana, calmly. “He distinctly -advertises for a woman of ‘mature’ years.” - -“That may be his cunning!” and Sophy looked mysterious. “If we are to -believe history, Cleopatra was fifty when she enchanted Anthony.” - -“Dear old Egyptian days!” sighed Diana, with a whimsical uplifting of -her eyebrows. “Would I had lived in them! With a long plaited black wig -and darkened lashes, I too, might have found an Anthony!” - -“Well, dress _does_ make a difference,” said Sophy seriously. “That is, -of course, if you know where to get it made, and how to put it on, and -don’t bundle it round you in a gathered balloon like ‘Ma!’ _What_ a -sight that woman does look, to be sure!” - -“Poor mother! I tried to make her clothes sit on her,” murmured Diana, -regretfully. “But they wouldn’t!” - -“Of course they wouldn’t! They simply _couldn’t_! Now take Mrs. -Ross-Percival,--a real old, old harridan!--the terror of her grown-up -daughters, who are always watching her lest her wig of young curls -should come off,--she gets herself up in such a style that I once heard -your father--an easily duped old thing!--say he thought her ‘the most -beautiful woman in London!’ And it was all the dress, with a big hat, -cosmetics and a complexion veil!” - -Diana laughed. - -“Pa’s a very susceptible little man!” she said tolerantly. “He has -often amused me very much with his ‘amourettes.’ Sometimes it’s Mrs. -Ross-Percival,--then he becomes suddenly violently juvenile and pays -his _devoirs_ to a girl of seventeen; I think he’d die straight off if -he couldn’t believe himself still capable of conquering all hearts! And -he’ll be able to get on in that line much better now that I’m drowned. -I was ‘in the way.’” - -“Silly old noodle!” said Sophy. “He’d better not come near _me_!--I -should tell him a few plain truths of himself which he would not like!” - -“Oh, he wouldn’t mind!” Diana assured her. “To begin with, he wouldn’t -listen, and if he did, he would grin that funny little grin of his and -say you were ‘over-wrought.’ That’s his great word! You can make no -impression on Pa if he doesn’t want to be impressed. He has absolutely -no feelings--I mean real _feelings_,--he has only just ‘impulses,’ of -anger or pleasure, such as an animal has--and he doesn’t attempt to -control either.” - -They had by this time left the drawing-room, and were standing together -in a charming little bedroom, furnished all in white and rose-colour. - -“This is my ‘visitor’s room,’” said Sophy. ”And you can occupy it as -long as you like. And I’ll bring you one of my Paris tea-gowns to slip -on for dinner,--it’s lovely and you’ll look sweet!” - -Diana smiled. - -“I! Dear Sophy, you expect miracles!” - -But Sophy was not so far wrong. That evening, Diana, arrayed in a -gracefully flowing garment of cunningly interwoven soft shades, varying -from the hue of Neapolitan violets to palest turquoise, and wearing -her really beautiful bright hair artistically coiled on the top of her -well-shaped head, was a very different looking Diana to the weary, worn -and angular woman in severely cut navy serge who had presented the -appearance of an out-of-place governess but a few hours before. If she -could not be called young or beautiful, she was distinctly attractive, -and Sophy Lansing was delighted. - -“My dear, you pay for dressing!” she said, enthusiastically. “And--you -mark my words!--you don’t look ‘mature’ enough for that Dr. Dimitrius!” - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -There are certain people who take a bland and solemn pleasure in the -details of death and disaster,--who are glad to assume an air of -what they call “Christian resignation,” and who delight in funerals -and black-edged note-paper. Regular church-goers are very frequently -most particular about this last outward sign and token of the heart’s -incurable sorrow; some choose a narrow black edge as being less -obtrusive but more subtle,--others a broad, as emblematic of utter -hopelessness. The present writer once happened on a cynical stationer, -who had his own fixed ideas on this particular department of mourning -which was so closely connected with his trade. - -“The broader the edge, the less the grief,” he assured me. “Just as I -say of widows, the longer the veil, the sooner the second wedding,--and -the more wreaths there are on a hearse, the fewer the friends of the -deceased. That’s my experience.” - -But no one should accept these remarks as anything but the cynical -view of a small tradesman whose opinion of his clients was somewhat -embittered. - -A letter with a black border which was neither broad nor narrow, -but discreetly medium, appeared among Sophy Lansing’s daily pile of -correspondence the morning after Diana’s arrival at her flat, and, -recognising the handwriting on the envelope, she at once selected -it from the rest, and ran into her friend’s room, waving it aloft -triumphantly. - -“Look!” she exclaimed. “From your poor, afflicted Pa! To announce the -sad news!” - -Diana, fresh from her bath, her hair hanging about her and the faint -pink of her cheeks contrasting becomingly with the pale blue of her -dressing-gown, looked up rather wistfully. - -“Do open it!” she said. “I’m sure it will be a beautiful letter! Pa -can express himself quite eloquently when he thinks it worth while. I -remember he wrote a most charming ‘gush’ of sympathy to a woman who had -lost her husband suddenly,--she was a titled person, and Pa worships -titles,--and when he had posted it he said: ‘Thank God that’s done -with! It’s bad enough to write a letter of condolence at all, but when -you have to express sorrow for the death of an old fool who is better -out of the world than in it, it’s a positive curse!’” - -She laughed, adding: “I know he isn’t really sorry for _my_ supposed -‘death’; if the real, bare, brutal truth were told, he’s glad!” - -Sophy Lansing paused in the act of opening the letter. - -“Diana!” she exclaimed in a tone of thrilling indignation. “If he’s -such an old brute as that----” - -“Oh, no, he isn’t really an old brute!” Diana averred, gently. “He’s -just a very ordinary sort of man. Lots of people pretend to be sorry -for the deaths of their friends and relatives when they’re not; and -half the mourning in the world is sheer hypocrisy! Pa’s a bit of a -coward, too--he hates the very thought of death, and when some person -he has known commits this last indiscretion of dying, he forgets it as -quickly as possible. I don’t blame him, I’m sure. Everyone can’t feel -deeply--some people can’t feel at all.” - -Here Sophy opened the letter and glanced at it. Presently she looked up. - -“Shall I read it to you?” she asked. - -Diana nodded. With a small, preparatory cough, which sounded rather -like a suppressed giggle, Sophy thereupon read the following effusion: - - “Dear Miss Lansing, - - “I hardly know how to break to you the news of the sudden and awful - tragedy which has wrecked the happiness of our lives! Our beloved only - child, our darling daughter Diana is no more! I am aware what a shock - this will be to your feelings, for you loved her as a friend, and I - wish any words of mine could soften the blow. But I am too stunned - myself with grief and horror to write more than just suffices to tell - you of the fatal calamity. The poor child was overtaken by a high - tide while bathing this morning, and was evidently carried out of - her depth. For some hours I have waited and hoped against hope that - perhaps, as she was a good swimmer, she might have reached some other - part of the shore, but alas! I hear from persons familiar with this - coast that the swirl of water in a high tide is so strong and often - so erratic that it is doubtful whether even her poor body will ever - be found! A sailor has just called here with a melancholy relic--her - poor little bathing shoes! He picked up one this morning, soon after - the accident, he says, and the other has lately been washed ashore. - I cannot go on writing,--my heart is too full! My poor wife is quite - beside herself with sorrow. We can only place our trust in God that He - will, with time, help us to find consolation for our irreparable loss. - We shall not forget your affection for our darling, and shall hope to - send you her little wristlet watch as a souvenir. - - “Yours, in the deepest affliction, - “James Polydore May.” - -Diana had listened with close and almost fascinated attention. - -“Of course it isn’t true,” she said, when the reading was finished. “It -can’t be true.” - -“What can’t be true?” queried Sophy, puckering her well-arched eyebrows. - -“All that!” and Diana waved her hand expressively. “Pa’s not a bit -‘stunned with grief and horror!’ You couldn’t fancy him in such -a condition if you tried! And mother is not in the least ‘beside -herself.’ She’s probably ordering her mourning. Why, they are already -parcelling out my trinkets, and before I’ve been ‘drowned’ twenty-four -hours they’re thinking of sending you my wristlet watch by way of an -‘In Memoriam.’ I hope they will,--I should love you to have it! But -people who are ‘stunned with grief and horror’ and ‘beside themselves’ -are not able to make all these little arrangements so quickly! Ah, -Sophy! An hour ago I was actually fancying that perhaps I had behaved -cruelly,--there was a stupid, lingering sentiment in my mind that -suggested the possible suffering and despair of my father and mother at -having lost me!--but after that letter I am reassured! I know I have -done the right thing.” - -Sophy looked at her with a smile. - -“You are a curious creature!” she said. “Surely Pa expresses himself -very touchingly?” - -“Too touchingly by half!” answered Diana. “Had he really felt the grief -he professes to feel, he could not have written to you or to any other -friend for several days about it----” - -“Perhaps,” interrupted Sophy, “he thought it would be in the papers, -and that unless he wrote it might be taken for someone else----” - -“He _knew_ it would be in the papers,” said Diana, “and naturally -wished to let his acquaintances know that he, and no other man of -the name of May, is the bereaved father of the domestic melodrama. -Well!”--and she shook back her hair over her shoulders--“it’s -finished! I am dead!--and ‘born again,’ as the Scripture saith,--at -rather a mature age!--but I may yet turn out worth regenerating!--who -knows?” - -She laughed, and turned to the dressing-table to complete her toilette. -Sophy put affectionate arms about her. - -“You are a dear, strange, clever, lovable thing, anyway!” she said. -“But really, I’ve had quite a sleepless night thinking about that -Dr. Dimitrius! He may be a secret investigator or a spy, and if you -go to him he may want you to do all sorts of dreadful, even criminal -things!----” - -“But I shouldn’t do them!” laughed Diana. “Sophy, have you _no_ -confidence in my mental balance?” - -“_I_ have, but some people wouldn’t,” Sophy replied. “They would -say that a woman of your age ought to know better than to leave a -comfortable home where you had only the housekeeping to do, and give -up the chance of an ample income at your parents’ death, just to go -away on a wild-goose chase after new adventures, and all because you -imagined you weren’t loved! Oh, dear! Love is only ‘a springe to catch -woodcocks!’ as the venerable Polonius so wisely remarks in _Hamlet_. I -know a sneering cynic who says that women are always ‘asking for love!’” - -Diana paused in the act of brushing out a long bright ripple of hair. -Her eyes grew sombre--almost tragic. - -“So they are!” she said. “They ask for it because they know God meant -them to have it! They know they were created for lover-love, wife-love, -mother-love,--just think what life means to them when cheated out -of all three through the selfishness and treachery of man! Their -blood gets poisoned--their thoughts share the bitterness of their -blood--they are no longer real women; they become abnormal and of no -sex,--they shriek with the Suffragettes, and put on trousers to go -‘on the land’ with the men--they do anything and everything to force -men’s attention--forgetting that efforts made on the masculine line -completely fail in attraction for the male sex. It is the sensual and -physical side of a woman that subjugates a man,--therefore when she is -past her youth she has little or no ‘chance,’ as they call it. If she -happens to be brainless, she turns into a sour, grizzling, tea-drinking -nonentity and talks nothing but scandal and diseases,--if she is -intellectually brilliant, well!--sometimes she ‘rounds’ on the dogs -that have bayed her into solitude, and, like a wounded animal, springs -to her revenge!” - -The words came impetuously from her lips, uttered in that thrillingly -sweet voice which was her special gift and charm. - -Sophy’s bright eyes opened in sheer astonishment. - -“Why, Diana!” she exclaimed. “You talk like a tragedy queen!” - -Diana shrugged her shoulders lightly. - -“Do I?” and she slowly resumed the brushing of her hair. “There’s -nothing in what I say but the distinctly obvious. Love is the necessity -of life to a woman, and when that fails----” - -“Diana, Diana!” interrupted Sophy, shaking a warning finger at -her--“you talk of love as if it really were the ‘ideal’ thing described -by poets and romancists, when it’s only the sugar-paper to attract -and kill the flies! We women begin life by believing in it; but every -married friend of mine tells me that all the ‘honey’ of the ‘moon’ -is finished in a couple of months, never again to be found in the -_pot-au-feu_ of matrimony! Out of a thousand men taken at random -perhaps one will really _love_, in the best and finest sense; the rest -are only swayed by animal passion such as is felt by the wolf, the -bear, or even the rabbit!--I really think the rabbit is the most exact -prototype! How many wives one knows whose husbands not only neglect -them, but are downright rude to them!--Why, my dear, your notion of -‘love’ is a dream, beyond all realisation!” - -“Possibly!” and Diana went on with her hair-brushing. “But whatever -it is, or whatever I imagined it to be, I don’t want it now. I -want--revenge!” - -“Revenge?” Sophy gave a little start of surprise. “You? You, always -gentle, patient and adaptable! _You_ want ‘revenge’? On whom? On what?” - -“On all and everything that has set me apart and alone as I am!” Diana -answered. “Perhaps science can show me a way to it! If so, I shall not -have lived in vain!” - -“Diana!” exclaimed her friend. “One would think you were going to bring -microbes in a bottle, or something awful of that sort, and kill people!” - -“Not I!” and Diana laughed quite merrily. “Killing is a common -thing--and vulgar. But--I have strange dreams!” She twisted up her -hair dexterously and coiled it prettily round her small, compact head. -“Yes!--I have strange dreams!” she went on. “In these times we are apt -to forget the conquests possible to the brain,--we let fools over-ride -us when we could far more easily over-ride _them_. In my ‘salad days,’ -which lasted far too long, I ‘asked for love’--now I ask for vengeance! -I gave all my heart and soul to a man whose only god was Self,--and -I got nothing back for my faith and truth. So I have a long score to -settle!--and I shall try to have some of my spent joys returned to -me--with heavy interest!” - -“But how?” inquired Sophy, perplexed. “You don’t expect to get any -‘spent joys’ out of this Dr. Dimitrius, do you?” - -Diana smiled. “No!” - -“And if he proves to be a charlatan, as he probably will, you say -you’ll go as companion or governess or housekeeper to somebody out in -Geneva--well, where are you going to find any joy in such a life as -that?” - -Diana looked at her, still smiling. - -“My dear, I don’t expect anything! Who was it that said: ‘Blessed are -they that expect nothing, for they shall not be disappointed’? The -chief point I have now to dwell upon is, that I am to all intents and -purposes _Dead!_ and, being dead, I’m free!--almost as free as if my -spirit had really escaped from its mortal prison. Really, there’s -something quite vitalising in the situation!--just now I feel ready for -anything. I shouldn’t mind trying an airship voyage to the moon!” - -“With Dr. Dimitrius?” suggested Sophy, laughing. - -“Well, I don’t know anything about Dr. Dimitrius yet,” answered -Diana. “Judging from his advertisement I imagine he is some wealthy -‘crank’ who fancies himself a scientist. There are any amount of -them wandering about the world at the present time. I shall soon be -able to tell whether he’s a humbug or an honest man,--whether he’s -mad or sane--meanwhile, dear little Sophy, let’s have breakfast and -then go shopping. We’ve done with Pa and Ma--at any rate _I_ have, -bless their dear old hearts!--we know they’re ‘stunned with grief and -horror’ and ‘beside themselves’ and as happy in their ‘misery’ as they -ever were in their lives. I can see my mother getting fitted for her -mourning, and ‘Pa’ arguing with the hatter as to the proper width of -his hat-band, and all the neighbours calling, and proffering ‘sympathy’ -when they don’t care a scrap! It’s a curious little humbug of a world, -Sophy!--but for the remainder of my time I’ll try to make it of use to -me. Only you’ll have to lend me some money to begin upon!” - -“Any amount you want!” said Sophy, enthusiastically--“You must have -proper clothes to travel in!” - -“I _must_,” agreed Diana, with humorously dramatic emphasis. “I haven’t -had any since I was ‘withdrawn’ from the matrimonial market for lack -of bidders. Mother used to spend hundreds on me so long as there was -any hope--I had the prettiest frocks, the daintiest hats,--and in these -I ‘radiated’ at all the various shows,--Ranelagh, Hurlingham, Henley, -Ascot, Goodwood,--how sick I used to be of it! But when these little -crowsfeet round my eyes began to come”--and she touched her temples -expressively--“then poor, disappointed Ma drew in the purse-strings. -She found that very ‘young’ hats didn’t suit me--delicate sky-pinks -and blues made me look sallow,--so she and Pa decided on giving me an -‘allowance’--too meagre to stand the cost of anything but the plainest -garments--and--so, here I am! Pa says ‘only very young people should -wear white’--but the vain old boy got himself up in white flannels the -other day to play tennis and thought he looked splendid! But what’s the -odds, so long as he’s happy!” - -She laughed and turned to the mirror to complete her toilette, and -in less than an hour’s time she and Sophy Lansing had finished their -breakfast and were out together in Bond Street, exploring the mysteries -of the newest Aladdin’s palace of elegant garments, where the perfect -taste and deft fingers of practised Parisian fitters soon supplied all -that was needed to suit Diana’s immediate requirements. At one very -noted establishment, she slipped into a “model” gown of the finest -navy serge, of a design and cut so admirable that the _couturier_ -could hardly be said to flatter when he declared that “Madame looked a -princess in it.” - -“Do princesses always look well?” she asked, with a quaint little -uplifting of her eyebrows. - -The great French tailor waved his hands expressively. - -“Ah, Madame! It is a figure of speech!” - -Diana laughed,--but she purchased the costume, Sophy whispering -mysteriously in her ear: “Let us take it with us in the automobile! One -never knows!--they might change it! And you’ll never get anything to -suit you more perfectly.” - -Miss Lansing was worldly-wise; she had not gained the reputation -of being one of the best-dressed women in London without learning -many little ins and outs of “model” gowns which are hidden from the -profane. Many and many a time had she been “taken in,” on this deep -question,--many a “model” had she chosen, leaving it to be sent home, -and on receipt had found it to be only a clever “copy” which, on -being tried on, had proved a misfit. And well she knew that complaint -was useless, as the tailor or modiste who supplied the goods would -surely prove a veritable Ananias in swearing that she had received the -“model,” and the model only. On this occasion she had her way, and, -despite the deprecating appeal of the _couturier_ that he might be -allowed to send it, the becoming costume was packed and placed safely -in the automobile, and she and Diana drove off with it. - -“You never _could_ look better in anything!” declared Sophy. “Promise -me you’ll wear it when you make your first call on Dr. Dimitrius!” - -“But, my dear, it may be too much for him!” laughed Diana. “He wants ‘a -courageous and determined woman of mature years,’--and so charming a -Paris costume may not ‘dress’ the part!” - -“Never mind whether it does or not,” said Sophy. “I can’t believe he -wants an old frump! You may not believe me, Di, but you look perfectly -fascinating in that gown--almost young again!” - -Diana’s blue eyes clouded with a touch of sadness. She sighed a little. - -“Almost!--not quite!” she answered. “But--‘dress does make a -difference!’--there’s no doubt of it! These last few years I’m not -ashamed to say I’ve longed for pretty clothes--I suppose it’s the dying -spirit of youth trying to take a last caper! And now, with all these -vanity purchases, I am horribly in your debt. Dear Sophy, how shall I -ever repay you?” - -“Don’t know and don’t care!” said Sophy, recklessly. “I’m not a -grasping creditor. And something tells me you are going to be very -rich!--perhaps this man Dimitrius is a millionaire and wants a clever -woman for his wife--a sort of Madame Curie to help him with his -experiments----” - -“Then I shall not suit him,” interrupted Diana, “for I never intend -to be wife to any man. First of all, I’m too old--secondly, if I were -young again, I wouldn’t. It isn’t worth while!” - -“But didn’t you say you wanted to be loved?” queried Sophy. - -“Does marriage always fulfil that need?” counter-queried Diana. - -They exchanged glances--smiled--shrugged shoulders and dropped the -conversation. - -Two days later Diana left England for Geneva. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -Geneva is one of those many towns in Switzerland which give the -impression of neat commonplace in the midst of romance,--the same -impression which is conveyed by a housewife’s laying out of domestic -linen in the centre of a beautiful garden. The streets are clean and -regular,--the houses well-built and characterless, sometimes breaking -forth into “villas” of fantastic appearance and adornment, which -display an entire absence of architectural knowledge or taste,--the -shops are filled with such trifles as are likely to appeal to tourists, -but have little to offer of original production that cannot be -purchased more satisfactorily elsewhere, and the watches that glitter -in the chief jeweller’s window on the Quai des Bergues are nothing -better than one sees in the similar windows of Bond Street or Regent -Street. There is nothing indeed remarkable about Geneva itself beyond -its historic associations and memories of famous men, such as Calvin -and Rousseau;--its chief glory is gained from its natural surroundings -of blue lake and encircling chain of mountains, with Mont Blanc -towering up in the distance, - - “In a wreath of mist, - By the sunlight kiss’d, - And a diadem of snow.” - -The suburbs are far more attractive than the town; for, beyond -the radius of the streets and the hateful, incessant noise of the -electric trams, there are many charming residences set among richly -wooded grounds and brilliant parterres of flowers, where the most -fastidious lover of loveliness might find satisfaction for the eyes -and rest for the mind, especially on the road towards Mont Salève and -Mornex. Here one sees dazzling mists streaming off the slopes of the -mountains,--exquisite tints firing the sky at sunrise and sunset, and -mirrored in the infinite blue of the lake,--and even in the heats of -summer, a delicious breeze blows over the fresh green fields with -the cold scent of the Alpine snow in its breath. And here on a fresh -beautiful autumn morning Diana May found herself walking swiftly along -with light and eager steps, her whole being alive with interested -anticipation. Never had she felt so well; health bounded in her pulse -and sparkled in her eyes, and the happy sense of perfect freedom gave -to every movement of her thin, supple figure, that elasticity and grace -which are supposed to be the special dower of extreme youth, though, -as a matter of fact, youth is often ungainly in action and cumbersome -in build. She had stayed two days and nights at a quiet little hotel -in Geneva on arrival, in order to rest well and thoroughly, after -her journey from England before presenting herself at the Château -Fragonard, the residence of the mysterious Dr. Dimitrius; and she -had made a few casual yet careful inquiries as to the Château and -its owner. Nobody seemed to know more than that “Monsieur le Docteur -Dimitrius” was a rich man, and that his Château had been built for him -by a celebrated French architect who had spared neither labour nor -cost. He was understood to be a scientist, very deeply absorbed in -difficult matters of research,--he was unmarried and lived alone with -his mother. Just now he had so much to do that he was advertising in -all the papers for “an intellectual elderly lady” to assist him. Diana -was indebted for this last “personal note” to a chatty bookseller in -the Rue du Mont Blanc. She smiled as she listened, turning over some -of the cheap fiction on his counter. - -“He is not suited yet?” she inquired. - -“Ah, no, Madame! It is not likely he will be suited! For what lady will -admit herself to be sufficiently elderly? Ah, no? It is not possible!” - -Later on, she learned that the Château Fragonard was situated some -distance out of Geneva, and well off the high road. - -“Madame wishes to see the grounds?” inquired the cheery driver of -a little carriage plying for hire. “It would be necessary to ask -permission. But they are very fine!--Ah, wonderful!--as fine as those -of Rothschild! And if one were not admitted, it is easy to take a boat, -and view them from the lake! The lawns slope to the water’s edge.” - -“Exquisite!” murmured Diana to herself. “It will be worth while trying -to remain in such a paradise!” - -And she questioned the willingly communicative _cocher_ as to how long -it might take to walk to the Château? - -“About an hour,” he replied. “A pleasant walk, too, Madame! One sees -the lake and mountains nearly all the way.” - -This information decided her as to her plans. She knew that the -eccentric wording of the Dimitrius advertisement required any applicant -to present herself between six and eight in the morning, which was an -ideal time for a walk in the bracing, brilliant Alpine air. So she -determined to go on foot the very next day; and before she parted with -the friendly driver, she had ascertained the exact position of the -Château, and the easiest and quickest way to get there. - -And now,--having risen with the first peep of dawn, and attired herself -in that becoming navy serge “model,” which her astute friend Sophy had -borne triumphantly out of the French tailor’s emporium, she was on her -way to the scene of her proposed adventure. She walked at a light, -rapid pace--the morning was bright and cool, almost cold when the wind -blew downward from the mountains, and she was delightfully conscious -of that wonderful exhilaration and ease given to the whole physical -frame by a clear atmosphere, purified by the constant presence of ice -and snow. As she moved along in happiest mood, she thought of many -things;--she was beginning to be amazed, as well as charmed, by the -various changes which had, within a week, shaken her lately monotonous -life into brilliant little patterns like those in a kaleidoscope. The -web and woof of Circumstance was no longer all dull grey, like the -colour her father had judged most suitable for her now that she was no -longer young,--threads of rose and sky blue had found their hopeful way -into the loom. Her days of housekeeping, checking tradesmen’s bills and -flower-arranging seemed a very long way off; it was hardly credible to -her mind that but a short time ago she had been responsible for the -ordering of her parents’ lunches and dinners and the general management -of the summer “change” at Rose Lea on the coast of Devon,--that fatal -coast where she had been so cruelly drowned! Before leaving London, -she had seen a few casual paragraphs in the newspapers concerning this -disaster, headed “Bathing Fatality”--“Sad End of a Lady”--or “Drowned -while Bathing,” but, naturally, being a nobody, she had left no gap -in society,--she was only one of many needless women. And it was an -altogether new and aspiring Diana May that found herself alive on this -glorious morning in Switzerland; not the resigned, patient, orderly -“old maid” with a taste for Jacobean embroidery and a wholesome dislike -of the “snap-snap-snarl” humours of her father. - -“I never seem to have been my own real self till now!” she said -inwardly. “And now I hardly realise that I have a father and mother -at all! What a tyrannical bogy I have made of my ‘duty’ to them! And -‘love’ is another bogy!” - -She glanced at her watch,--one of Sophy Lansing’s numerous dainty -trifles--“Keep it in exchange,” Sophy had said, “for yours which your -bereaved parents are going to send me as an ‘In Memoriam’!” It was -ten minutes to seven. Looking about her to take note of her bearings, -she saw on the left-hand side a deep bend in the road, which curved -towards a fine gateway of wrought iron, surmounted by a curious -device representing two crossed spears springing from the centre of -a star,--and she knew she had arrived at her destination. Her heart -beat a little more quickly as she approached the gateway--there was -no keeper’s lodge, so she pulled at a handle which dimly suggested -the possibility of a bell. There was no audible response,--but to -all appearance the gates noiselessly unbarred themselves, and slowly -opened. She entered at once without hesitation, and they as slowly -closed behind her. She was in the grounds of the Château Fragonard. -Immense borders of heliotrope in full bloom fringed either side of the -carriage drive where she stood, and the mere lifting of her eyes showed -masses of flowering shrubs and finely-grown trees bending their shadowy -branches over velvety stretches of rich green grass, or opening in -leafy archways here and there to disclose enchanting glimpses of blue -water or dazzling peaks of far-off snow. She would have been glad to -linger among such lovely surroundings, for she had a keen comprehension -of and insight into the beauty of Nature and all the joys it offers to -a devout and discerning spirit, but she bethought herself that if Dr. -Dimitrius was anything of an exact or punctilious person, he would -expect an applicant to be rather before than after time. A silver-toned -chime, striking slowly and musically on the sunlit silence, rang seven -o’clock as she reached the Château, which looked like a miniature -palace of Greek design, and was surrounded with a broad white marble -loggia, supported by finely fluted Ionic columns, between two of which -on each side a fountain played. But Diana had scarcely time to look at -anything while quickly ascending the short flight of steps leading to -the door of entrance; she saw a bell and was in haste to ring it. Her -summons was answered at once by a negro servant dressed in unassuming -dark livery. - -“Dr. Dimitrius?” she queried. - -The negro touched his lips with an expressive movement signifying that -he was dumb,--but he was not deaf, for he nodded an affirmative to her -inquiry, and by a civil gesture invited her to enter. In another few -seconds she found herself in a spacious library--a finely proportioned -room, apparently running the full length of the house, with large -French windows at both ends, commanding magnificent views. - -Left alone for several minutes, she moved about half timidly, half -boldly, looking here and there--at the great globes, celestial and -terrestrial, which occupied one corner,--at the long telescope on its -stand ready for use and pointed out to the heavens--and especially at a -curious instrument of fine steel set on a block of crystal, which swung -slowly up and down incessantly, striking off an infinitesimal spark of -fire as it moved. - -“Some clock-work thing,” she said half aloud. “But where is its -mechanism?” - -“Ah, where!” echoed a deep, rather pleasant voice close at her ear. -“That, as Hamlet remarked, is the question!” - -She started and turned quickly with a flush of colour mounting to her -brows,--a man of slight build and medium height stood beside her. - -“You are Dr. Dimitrius?” she said. - -He smiled. “Even so! I am he! And you----?” - -Swiftly she glanced him over. He was not at all an alarming, weird, -or extraordinary-looking personage. Young?--yes, surely young for a -man--not above forty; and very personable, if intelligent features, -fine eyes and a good figure can make a man agreeable to outward view. -And yet there was something about him more than mere appearance,--she -could not tell what it was, and just then she had no time to consider. -She rushed at once into the business of her errand. - -“My name is May,--Diana May,” she said, conscious of nervousness -in speaking, but mastering herself by degrees. “I have come from -England in answer to your advertisement. I am interested--very deeply -interested--in matters of modern science, and I have gained some little -knowledge through a good deal of personal, though quite unguided -study. I am most anxious to be useful--and I am not afraid to take any -risks----” - -She broke off, a little confused under the steady scrutiny of Dr. -Dimitrius’s eyes. He placed an easy chair by the nearest window. “Pray -sit down!” he said, with a courteous gesture,--then, as she obeyed: -“You have walked here from Geneva?” - -“Yes.” - -“When did you arrive from England?” - -“Two days ago.” - -“Have you stated to anyone the object of your journey?” - -“Only to one person--an intimate woman friend who lent me the money for -my travelling expenses.” - -“I see!” And Dimitrius smiled benevolently. “You have not explained -yourself or your intentions to any good Genevese hotel proprietor?” - -She looked up in quick surprise. - -“No, indeed!” - -“Wise woman!” Here Dimitrius drew up a chair opposite to her and -sat down. “My experience has occasionally shown me that lone ladies -arriving in a strange town and strange hotel, throw themselves, so to -speak, on the bosom of the book-keeper or the landlady, and to her -impart their whole business. It is a mistake!--an error of confiding -innocence--but it is often made. You have _not_ made it,--and that is -well! You have never married?” - -Diana coloured--then answered with gentleness: - -“No. I am what is called a spinster,--an old maid.” - -“The first is by far the prettiest name,” said Dimitrius. “It evokes a -charming vision of olden time when women sat at their spinning wheels, -each one waiting for Faust, _à la Marguerite_, unaware of the Devil -behind him! ‘Old maid’ is a coarse English term,--there _are_ coarse -English terms! and much as I adore England and the English, I entirely -disapprove of their ‘horseplay’ on women! No doubt you know what I -mean?” - -“I think I do,” replied Diana, slowly. “It is that when a woman is -neither a man’s bound slave nor his purchased toy, she is turned into a -jest.” - -“Precisely! You have expressed it perfectly!” and his keen eyes flashed -over her comprehensively. “But let us keep to business. You are a -spinster, and I presume you are, in the terms of my advertisement, -‘alone in the world, without claims on your time or your affections.’ -Is that so?” - -Quietly she answered: - -“That is so.” - -“Now you will remember I asked for ‘a courageous and determined woman -of mature years.’ You do not look very ‘mature’----” - -“I am past forty,” said Diana. - -“A frank, but unnecessary admission,” he answered, smiling. “You should -never admit to more years than your appearance gives you. However, I -am glad you told me, as it better suits my purpose. And you consider -yourself ‘courageous and determined’?” - -She looked at him straightly. - -“I think I am--I hope I am,” she said. “I have had many disillusions -and have lost all I once hoped to win; so that I can honestly say even -death would not matter to me, as I have nothing to live for. Except the -love of Nature and its beauty----” - -“And its wisdom and mastery of all things,” finished Dimitrius. “And to -feel that unless we match its wisdom with our will to be instructed, -and its mastery with our obedience and worship, we ‘shall surely die’!” - -His eyes flashed upon her with a curious expression, and just for a -passing moment she felt a little afraid of him. He went on, speaking -with deliberate emphasis: - -“Yes,--if you are indeed a student of Nature, you surely know _that_! -And you know also that the greatest, deepest, most amazing, and most -enlightening discoveries made in science during the last thirty years -or so are merely the result of cautious and sometimes casual probing of -one or two of this vast Nature’s smaller cells of active intelligence. -We have done something,--but how much remains to do!” - -He paused,--and Diana gazed at him questioningly. He smiled as he met -her eager and interested look. - -“We shall have plenty of time to talk of these matters,” he said--“if I -decide that you can be useful to me. What languages do you know besides -your own?” - -“French, Italian and a little Russian,” she answered. “The two first -quite fluently,--Russian I have studied only quite lately--and I find -it rather difficult----” - -“Being a Russian myself I can perhaps make it easy for you,” said -Dimitrius, kindly. “To study such a language without a teacher shows -considerable ambition and energy on your part.” - -She flushed a little at the mere suggestion of praise and sat silent. - -“I presume you have quite understood, Miss May,” he presently resumed, -in a more formal tone, “that I require the services of an assistant -for one year at least--possibly two years. If I engage you, you must -sign an agreement with me to that effect. Another very special point -is that of confidence. Nothing that you do, see, or hear while working -under my instructions is ever to pass your lips. You must maintain the -most inviolable secrecy, and when once you are in this house you must -neither write letters nor receive them. If you are, as I suggested in -my advertisement, ‘alone in the world, without any claims on your time -or your affections,’ you will not find this a hardship. My experiments -in chemistry may or may not give such results as I hope for, but while -I am engaged upon them I want no imitative bunglers attempting to get -on the same line. Therefore I will run no risks of even the smallest -hint escaping as to the nature of my work.” - -Diana bent her head in assent. - -“I understand,” she said--“And I am quite willing to agree to your -rules. I should only wish to write one letter, and that I can do from -the hotel,--just to return the money my friend lent me for my expenses. -And I should ask you to advance me that sum out of whatever salary you -offer. Then I need give no further account of myself. Sophy,--that is -my friend--would write to acknowledge receipt of the money, and then -our correspondence would end.” - -“This would not vex or worry you?” inquired Dimitrius. - -She smiled. “I am past being vexed or worried at anything!” she said. -“Life is just a mere ‘going on’ for me now, with thankfulness to find -even a moment of interest in it as I go!” - -Dimitrius rose from his chair and walked up and down, his hands -clasped behind his back. She watched him in fascinated attention, with -something of suspense and fear lest after all he should decide against -her. She noted the supple poise of his athletic figure, clad in a -well-cut, easy summer suit of white flannels,--his dark, compact head, -carried with a certain expression of haughtiness, and last, but not -least, his hands, which in their present careless attitude nevertheless -expressed both power and refinement. - -Suddenly he wheeled sharply round and stood, facing her. - -“I think you will do,” he said,--and her heart gave a quick throb of -relief which, unconsciously to herself, suffused her pale face with a -flush of happiness--“I think I shall find in you obedience, care, and -loyalty. But there is yet an important point to consider,--do you, in -your turn, think you can put up with _me_? I am very masterful, not to -say obstinate; I will have no ‘scamp’ work,--I am often very impatient, -and I can be extremely disagreeable. You must take all this well into -your consideration, for I am perfectly honest with you when I say I am -not easy to serve. And remember!”--here he drew a few steps closer to -her and looked her full in the eyes--“the experiments on which I am -engaged are highly dangerous,--and, as I stated in my advertisement, -you must not be ‘afraid to take risks,’--for if you agree to assist me -in the testing of certain problems in chemistry, it may cost you your -very life!” - -She smiled. - -“It’s very kind of you to prepare me for all the difficulties and -dangers of my way,” she said. “And I thank you! But I have no fear. -There is really nothing to be afraid of,--one can but die once. If you -will take me, I’ll do my faithful best to obey your instructions in -every particular, and so far as is humanly possible, you shall have -nothing to complain of.” - -He still bent his eyes searchingly upon her. - -“You have a good nerve?” - -“I think so.” - -“You must be sure of that! My laboratory is not a place for hesitation, -qualms, or terrors,” he said. “The most amazing manifestations occur -there sometimes----” - -“I have said I am not afraid,” interrupted Diana, with a touch of -pride. “If you doubt my word, let me go,--but if you are disposed to -engage me, please accept me at my own valuation.” - -He laughed, and his face lightened with kindliness and humour. - -“I like that!” he said. “I see you have some spirit! Good! Now, to -business. I have made up my mind that you will suit me,--and you have -also apparently made up your mind that _I_ shall suit _you_. Very well. -Your salary with me will be a thousand a year----” - -Diana uttered a little cry. - -“A thou--a thousand a year!” she ejaculated. “Oh, you mean a thousand -francs?” - -“No, I don’t. I mean a thousand good British pounds sterling,--the -risks you will run in working with me are quite worth that. You will -have your own suite of rooms and your own special hours of leisure for -private reading and study, and all your meals will be supplied, though -we should like you to share them with us at our table, if you have no -objection. And when you are not at work, or otherwise engaged, I should -be personally very much obliged if you would be kind and companionable -to my mother.” - -Diana could scarcely speak; she was overwhelmed by what she considered -the munificence and generosity of his offer. - -“You are too good,” she faltered. “You wish to give me more than my -abilities merit----” - -“I must be the best judge of that,” he said, and moving to a table desk -in the centre of the room he opened a drawer and took out a paper. -“Will you come here and read this? And then sign it?” - -She went to his side, and taking the paper from his hand, read it -carefully through. It was an agreement, simply and briefly worded, -which bound her as confidential assistant and private secretary -to Féodor Dimitrius for the time of one year positively, with the -understanding that this period should be extended to two years, if -agreeable to both parties. Without a moment’s hesitation, she took -up a pen, dipped it in ink, and signed it in a clear and very firmly -characteristic way. - -“A good signature!” commented Dimitrius. “If handwriting expresses -anything, you should be possessed of a strong will and a good brain. -Have you ever had occasion to exercise either?” - -Diana thought a moment--then laughed. - -“Yes!--in a policy of repression!” - -A humorous sparkle in his eyes responded to her remark. - -“I understand! Well, now”--and he put away the signed agreement in a -drawer of his desk and locked it--“you must begin to obey me at once! -You will first come and have some breakfast, and I’ll introduce you -to my mother. Next, you will return to your hotel in Geneva, pay your -bill, and remove your luggage. I can show you a short cut back to the -town, through these grounds and by the border of the lake. By the way, -how much do you owe your friend in England?” - -“About a hundred pounds.” - -“Here is an English bank-note for that sum,” said Dimitrius, taking it -from a roll of paper money in his desk. “Send it to her in a registered -letter. And here is an extra fifty pound note for any immediate -expenses,--you will understand you have drawn this money in advance of -your salary. Now when you get to your hotel, have your luggage taken to -the railway station and left in the Salle des Bagages,--they will give -you a number for it. Then when all this is done, walk quietly back here -by the same private path through the grounds which you will presently -become acquainted with, and I will send a man I sometimes employ from -Mornex, to fetch your belongings here. In this way the good gossiping -folk of Geneva will be unable to state what has become of you, or where -you have chosen to go. You follow me?” - -“Quite!” answered Diana--“And I shall obey you in every particular.” - -“Good! Now come and see my mother.” - -He showed her into an apartment situated on the other side of the -entrance hall--a beautiful room, lightly and elegantly furnished, -where, at a tempting-looking breakfast table, spread with snowy linen, -delicate china and glittering silver, sat one of the most picturesque -old ladies possible to imagine. She rose as her son and Diana entered -and advanced to meet them with a charming grace--her tall slight -figure, snow-white hair, and gentle, delicate face, lit up with the -tenderest of blue eyes, making an atmosphere of attractive influence -around her as she moved. - -“Mother,” said Dimitrius, “I have at last found the lady who is willing -to assist me in my work--here she is. She has come from England--let -me introduce her. Miss Diana May,--Madame Dimitrius.” - -“You are very welcome,”--and Madame Dimitrius held out both hands to -Diana, with an expressive kindness which went straight to the solitary -woman’s heart. “It is indeed a relief to me to know that my son is -satisfied! He has such great ideas!--such wonderful schemes!--alas, I -cannot follow or comprehend them!--I am not clever! You have walked -from Geneva?--and no breakfast? My dear, sit down,--the coffee is just -made.” - -And in two or three minutes Diana found herself chatting away at -perfect ease, with two of the most intelligent and companionable -persons she had ever met,--so that the restraint under which she had -suffered for years gradually relaxed, and her own natural wit and -vivacity began to sparkle with a brightness it had never known since -her choleric father and adipose mother had “sat upon her” once and -for all, as a matrimonial failure. Madame Dimitrius encouraged her to -talk, and every now and then she caught the dark, almost sombre eyes -of Dimitrius himself fixed upon her musingly, so that occasionally the -old familiar sense of “wonder” arose in her,--wonder as to how all -her new circumstances would arrange themselves,--what her work would -be--and what might result from the whole strange adventure. But when, -after breakfast, she was shown the beautiful “suite” of apartments -destined for her occupation, with windows commanding a glorious view -of the lake and the Mont Blanc chain of mountains, and furnished with -every imaginable comfort and luxury, she was amazed and bewildered at -the extraordinary good luck which had befallen her, and said so openly -without the slightest hesitation. Madame Dimitrius seemed amused at the -frankness of her admiration and delight. - -“This is nothing for us to do,” she said, kindly. “You will have -difficult and intricate work and much fatigue of brain; you will need -repose and relaxation in your own apartments, and we have made them as -comfortable as we can. There are plenty of books, as you see,--and the -piano is a ‘bijou grand,’ very sweet in tone. Do you play?” - -“A little,” Diana admitted. - -“Play me something now!” - -Obediently she sat down, and her fingers wandered as of themselves -into a lovely “prélude” of Chopin’s--a tangled maze of delicate tones -which crossed and recrossed each other like the silken flowers of fine -tapestry. The instrument she played on was delicious in touch and -quality, and she became so absorbed in the pleasure of playing that she -almost forgot her listeners. When she stopped she looked up, and saw -Dimitrius watching her. - -“Excellent! You have a rare gift!” he said. “You play like an artist -and _thinker_.” - -She coloured with a kind of confusion,--she had seldom or never been -praised for any accomplishment she possessed. Madame Dimitrius smiled -at her, with tears in her eyes. - -“Such music takes me back to my youth,” she said. “All the old days of -hope and promise! ... Ah! ... you will play to me often?” - -“Whenever you like,” answered Diana, with a thrill of tenderness in her -always sweet voice,--she was beginning to feel an affection for this -charming and dignified old lady, who had not outlived sentiment so far -as to be unmoved by the delicate sorrows of Chopin. “You have only to -ask me.” - -“And now,” put in Dimitrius, “as you know where you will live, you must -go back to Geneva and get your luggage, in the way I told you. We’ll -go together through the grounds,--it’s half an hour’s walk instead of -nearly two hours by the road.” - -“It did not seem like two hours this morning,” said Diana. - -“No, I daresay not. You were eager to get here, and walking in -Switzerland is always more delight than fatigue. But it is actually a -two hours’ walk. Our private way is easier and prettier.” - -“_Au revoir!_” smiled Madame Dimitrius. “You, Féodor, will be in to -luncheon,--and you, Miss May?----” - -“I give her leave of absence till the afternoon,” said Dimitrius. “She -must return in time for that English consoler of trouble--tea!” He -laughed, and with a light parting salute to his mother, preceded Diana -by a few steps to show the way. She paused a moment with a look half -shy, half wistful at the kindly Madame Dimitrius. - -“Will you try to like me?” she said, softly. “Somehow, I have missed -being liked! But I don’t think I’m really a disagreeable person!” - -Madame took her gently by both hands and kissed her. - -“Have courage, my dear!” she said. “I like you already! You will be a -help to my son,--and I feel that you will be patient with him! That -will be enough to win more than my liking--my love!” - -With a grateful look and smile Diana nodded a brief adieu, and followed -Dimitrius, who was already in the garden waiting for her. - -“Women must always have the last word!” he said, with a good-humoured -touch of irony. “And even when they are enemies, they kiss!” - -She raised her eyes frankly to his. - -“That’s true!” she answered. “I’ve seen a lot of it! But your mother -and I could never be enemies, and I--well, I am grateful for even a -‘show’ of liking.” - -He looked surprised. - -“Have you had so little?” he queried. “And you care for it?” - -“Does not everyone care for it?” - -“No. For example, I do not. I have lived too long to care. I know what -love or liking generally mean--love especially. It means a certain -amount of pussy-cat comfort for one’s self. Now, though all my efforts -are centred on comfort in the way of perfect health and continuous -enjoyment of life for this ‘Self’ of ours, I do not care for the mere -pussy-cat pleasure of being fondled to see if I will purr. I have no -desire to be a purring animal.” - -Diana laughed--a gay, sweet laugh that rang out as clearly and -youthfully as a girl’s. He gave her a quick, astonished glance. - -“I amuse you?” he inquired, with a slight touch of irritation. - -“Yes, indeed! But don’t be vexed because I laugh! You--you mustn’t -imagine that anybody wants to make you ‘purr!’ _I_ don’t! I’d rather -you growled, like a bear!” She laughed again. “We shall get on -splendidly together,--I know we shall!” - -He walked a few paces in silence. - -“I think you are younger than you profess to be,” he said, at last. - -“I wish I were!” she answered, fervently. “Alas, alas! it’s no use -wishing. I cannot ‘go like a crab, backwards.’ Though just now I feel -like a mere kiddie, ready to run all over these exquisite gardens and -look at everything, and find out all the prettiest nooks and corners. -What a beautiful place this is!--and how fortunate I am to have found -favour in your eyes! It will be perfect happiness for me just to live -here!” - -Dimitrius looked pleased. - -“I’m glad you like it,” he said--and taking a key from his pocket, he -handed it to her. “Here we are coming to the border of the lake, and -you can go on alone. Follow the private path till you come to a gate -which this key will open--then turn to the left, up a little winding -flight of steps, under trees--this will bring you out to the high road. -I suppose you know the way to your hotel when you are once in the town?” - -“Yes,--and I shall know my way back again to the Château this -afternoon,” she assured him. “It’s kind of you to have come thus far -with me. You are breaking your morning’s work.” - -He smiled. “My morning’s work can wait,” he said. “In fact, most of my -work _must_ wait--till you come!” - -With these words he raised his hat in courteous salutation and left -her, turning back through his grounds--while she went on her way -swiftly and alone. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -Arrived at her hotel, Diana gave notice that she was leaving that -afternoon. Then she packed up her one portmanteau and sent it by a -porter to the station, with instructions to deposit it in the “Salle -des Bagages,” to await her there. He carried out this order, and -brought the printed number entitling her to claim her belongings at her -convenience. - -“Madame is perhaps going to Vevy or to Montreux?” he suggested, -cheerfully. “The journey is pleasanter by boat than by the train.” - -“No doubt!--yes, of course!--I am quite sure it is!” murmured the -astute Diana with an abstracted smile, giving him a much larger “tip” -than he expected, which caused him to snatch off his cap and stand with -uncovered head, as in the presence of a queen. “But I have not made up -my mind where I shall go first. Perhaps to Martigny--perhaps only to -Lausanne. I am travelling for my own amusement.” - -_“Ah, oui! Je comprends! Bonne chance, Madame!_” and the porter backed -reverently away from the wonderful English lady who had given him -five francs, when he had only hoped for one,--and left her to her own -devices. Thereupon she went to her room, locked the door, and wrote the -following letter to Sophy Lansing: - - “Dearest Sophy, - - “Please find enclosed, as business people say, an English bank-note - for a hundred pounds, which I think clears me of my debt to you in - the way of money, though not of gratitude. By my ‘paying up’ so - soon, you will judge that I have ‘fallen on my feet’--and that I have - accepted ‘service’ under Dr. Dimitrius. What is more, and what will - please you most, is that I am entirely satisfied with my situation, - and am likely to be better off and happier than I have been for many - years. The Doctor does not appear to be at all an ‘eccentric,’--he is - evidently a _bona-fide_ scientist, engaged, as he tells me, in working - out difficult problems of chemistry, in which I hope and believe I may - be of some use to him by attending to smaller matters of detail only; - he has a most beautiful place on the outskirts of Geneva, in which I - have been allotted a charming suite of rooms with the loveliest view - of the Alps from the windows,--and last, by no means least, he has a - perfectly delightful mother, a sweet old lady with snow-white hair and - the ‘grand manner,’ who has captivated both my heart and imagination - at once. So you may realise how fortunate I am! Everything is signed - and settled; and there is only one stipulation Dr. Dimitrius makes, - and this is, that while I am working with him, I may neither write - nor receive letters. Now I have no one I really care to write to - except you; moreover, it is impossible for me to write to anyone, as - I am supposed to be dead! So it all fits in very well as it should. - You, of course, know nothing about me, save that I was unfortunately - drowned!--and when you see ‘Pa’ and ‘Ma’ clothed in their parental - mourning, you will, I hope, manage to shed a few friendly tears with - them over my sudden departure from this world. (N.B. A scrap of - freshly cut onion secreted in your handkerchief would do the trick!) - I confess I should have liked to know your impression of my bereaved - parents when you see them for the first time since my ‘death!’--but - I must wait. Meanwhile, you can be quite easy in your mind about - me, for I consider myself most fortunate. I have a splendid - salary--a thousand a year!--just think of it!--a thousand Pounds, - not Francs!--and a perfectly enchanting home, with every comfort and - luxury. I am indeed ‘dead’ as the poor solitary woman who devoted her - soul to the service of ‘Pa’ and ‘Ma’; a new Diana May has sprung from - the ashes of the old spinster!--it is exactly as if I had really died - and been born again! All the world seems new; I breathe the air of a - delicious and intelligent freedom such as I have never known. I shall - think of you very often, you bright, kind, clever little Sophy!--and - if I get the chance, I will now and then send you a few flowers,--or - a book,--merely as a hint to you that all is well. But, in any case, - whether you receive such a hint or not, have no misgivings or fears - in regard to me;--for years I haven’t been so happy or so well off - as I am now. I’m more than thankful that my lonely hours of study - have not been entirely wasted, and that what I have learned may - prove of some use at last. Now, dear Sophy, _au revoir_! Your good - wishes for me are being fulfilled; my ‘poor brain so long atrophied - by domestic considerations of Pa and Ma,’ as you put it, is actually - expanding!--and who knows?--your prophecy may come true--Cinderella - may yet go to the Prince’s Ball! If I have cause to resign my present - post, I will write to you at once; but not till then. This you will - understand. I have registered this letter so that really there is - no need for you to acknowledge its receipt,--the post-office may be - relied upon to deliver it to you safely. And I think it is perhaps - best you should not write. - - “Much love and grateful thanks for all your help and kindness to - - “Your ‘departed’ friend, - “Diana May.” - -This letter, with its bank-note enclosure, she sealed; and then, taking -a leisurely walk along the Rue du Mont Blanc to the General Post -Office, she patiently filled in the various formal items for the act of -registration which the Swiss postal officials make so overwhelmingly -tiresome and important, and finally got her packet safely despatched. -This done, she felt as if the last link binding her to her former life -was severed. Gone was “Pa”; gone was “Ma!”--gone were the few faded -sentiments she had half unconsciously cherished concerning the man she -had once loved and who had heartlessly “jilted” her,--gone, too, were -a number of sad and solitary years,--gone, as if they had been a few -unimportant numerals wiped off a slate,--and theirs was the strangest -“going” of all. For she had lived through those years,--most surely -she had lived through them,--yet now it did not seem as if they had -ever been part of her existence. They had suddenly become a blank. They -counted for nothing except the recollection of long hours of study. -Something new and vital touched her inner consciousness,--a happiness, -a lightness, a fresh breathing-in of strength and self-reliance. From -the Rue du Mont Blanc she walked to the Pont, and stood there, gazing -for some time at the ravishing view that bridge affords of the lake -and mountains. The sun shone warmly with that mellow golden light -peculiar to early autumn, and the water was blue as a perfect sapphire, -flecked by tiny occasional ripples of silver, like sudden flashing -reflections of sunbeams in a mirror; one or two pleasure-boats with -picturesque “lateen” sails looked like great sea-birds slowly skimming -along on one uplifted wing. The scene was indescribably lovely, and a -keen throb of pure joy pulsated through her whole being, moving her to -devout thankfulness for simply being alive, and able to comprehend such -beauty. - -“If I had been really and truly drowned I think it would have been a -pity!” she thought, whimsically. “Not on account of any grief it might -have caused--for I have no one to grieve for me,--but solely on my own -part, for I should have been senseless, sightless, and tucked away -in the earth, instead of being here in the blessed sunshine! No!--I -shouldn’t have been tucked away in the earth, unless they had found -my body and had a first-class funeral with Ma’s usual wreath lying on -the coffin,--I should have been dashed about in the sea, and eaten by -the fishes. Not half so pleasant as standing on the Pont du Mont Blanc -and looking at the snowy line of the Alps! When people commit suicide -they don’t _think_, poor souls!--they don’t realise that there’s more -happiness to be got out of the daily sunshine than either money, food, -houses, or friends can ever give! And one can live on very little, if -one tries.” Here she laughed. “Though I shall have no chance to try! -A thousand a year for a single woman, with a lovely home and ‘board’ -thrown in, does not imply much effort in managing to keep body and -soul together! Of course my work may be both puzzling and strenuous--I -wonder what it will really be?” - -And she started again on her old crusade of “wonder.” Yet she did -not find anything particular to wonder at in the appearance, manner, -or conversation of Dr. Dimitrius. She had always “wondered” at -stupidity,--but never at intelligence. Dimitrius spoke intelligently -and looked intelligent; he did not “pose” as a wizard or a seer, or -a prophet. And she felt sure that his mother would not limit her -conversation to the various items of domestic business; she could not -fancy her as becoming excited over a recipe for jam, or the pattern -for a blouse. This variety of subjects were the conversational -stock-in-trade of English suburban misses and matrons whose talk -on all occasions is little more than a luke-warm trickle of words -which mean nothing. There would be some intellectual stimulus in the -Dimitrius household,--of that she felt convinced. But in what branch of -scientific research, or what problem of chemistry her services would be -required, she could not, with all her capacity for wondering, form any -idea. - -She walked leisurely back to the hotel, looking at the shops on -her way,--at the little carved wooden bears carrying pin-cushions, -pen-trays and pipe-racks,--at the innumerable clocks, with chimes -and without,--at the “souvenirs” of pressed and mounted _edelweiss_, -inscribed with tender mottoes suitable for lovers to send to one -another in absence,--and before one window full of these she paused, -smiling. - -“What nonsense it all is!” she said to herself. “I used to keep the -faded petals of any little flower I chanced to see in _his_ buttonhole, -and put them away in envelopes marked with his initials and the -date!--what a fool I was!--as great a fool as that sublime donkey, -Juliette Drouet, who raved over her ‘little man’, Victor Hugo! And the -silly girls who send this _edelweiss_ from Switzerland to the men they -are in love with, ought just to see what those men do with it! _That_ -would cure them! Like the Professor who totalled up his butcher’s bill -on the back of one of Charlotte Bronté’s fervent letters, nine out of -ten of them are likely to use it as a ‘wedge’ to keep a window or door -from rattling!” - -Amused with her thoughts, she went on, reached her hotel and had -luncheon, after which she paid her bill. “Madame is leaving us?” said -the cheery _dame du comptoir_, speaking very voluble French. “Alas, we -are sorry her stay is so short! Madame goes on to Montreux, no doubt?” - -“Madame” smiled at the amiable woman’s friendly inquisitiveness. - -“No,” she answered.--“And yet--perhaps--yes! I am taking a long holiday -and hope to see all the prettiest places in Switzerland!” - -“Ah, there is much that is grand--beautiful!” declared the -proprietress. “You will occupy much time! You will perhaps return here -again?” - -“Oh, yes! That is very likely!” replied Diana, with a flagrant -assumption of candour. “I have been very comfortable here.” - -“Madame is too good to say so! We are charmed! The luggage has gone to -the station? Yes? That is well! _Au revoir_, Madame!” - -And with many gracious nods and smiles and repeated _au revoirs_, Diana -escaped at last, and went towards the station, solely for the benefit -of the hotel people, servants included, who stood at the doorway -watching her departure. But once out of their sight she turned rapidly -down a side street which she had taken note of in the morning, and soon -found her way to the close little alley under trees with the steps -which led to the border of the lake, but which was barred to strangers -and interlopers by an iron gate through which she had already passed, -and of which she had the key. There was no difficulty in unlocking it -and locking it again behind her, and she drew a long breath of relief -and satisfaction when she found herself once more in the grounds of the -Château Fragonard. - -“There!” she said half aloud--“I have shut away the old world!--welcome -to the new! I’m ready for anything now--life or death!--anything but -the old jog-trot, loveless days of monotonous commonplace,--there -will be something different here. Loveless I shall always be--but I’m -beginning to think there’s another way of happiness than love!--though -old Thomas à Kempis says: ‘Nothing is sweeter than love, nothing more -pleasant, nothing fuller and better in Heaven and earth’; but he meant -the love of God, not the love of man.” - -She grew serious and absorbed in thought, yet not so entirely -abstracted as to be unconscious of the beauty of the gardens through -which she was walking,--the well-kept lawns, the beds and borders of -flowers,--the graceful pergolas of climbing roses, and the shady paths -which went winding in and out through shrubberies and under trees, -here and there affording glimpses of the lake, glittering as with -silver and blue. Presently at a turn in one of these paths she had a -view of the front of the Château Fragonard, with its fountains in full -play on either side, and was enchanted with the classic purity of its -architectural design, which seemed evidently copied from some old-world -model of an Athenian palace. - -“I don’t think it’s possible to see anything lovelier!” she said to -herself. “And what luck it is for me to live here! Who could have -guessed it! It’s like a dream of fairyland!” - -She gathered a rose hanging temptingly within reach, and fastened it in -her bodice. - -“Let me see!” she went on, thinking--“It’s just a week since I was -‘drowned’ in Devon! Such a little while!--why Ma hasn’t had time yet -to get her mourning properly fitted! And Pa! I wonder how he really -‘carries’ himself, as they say, under his affliction! I think it will -be a case of ‘bearing up wonderfully,’ for both of them. One week!--and -my little boat of life, tied so long by a worn rope to a weedy shore, -has broken adrift and floated away by itself to a veritable paradise -of new experience. But,--am I counting too much on my good fortune, I -wonder? Perhaps there will be some crushing drawback,--some terrorizing -influence--who knows! And yet--I think not. Anyhow, I have signed, -sealed, and delivered myself over to my chosen destiny;--it is wiser -to hope for the best than imagine the worst.” - -Arrived at the hall door of the Château she found it open, and passed -in unquestioned, as an admitted member of the household. She saw a -neat maid busying herself with the arrangement of some flowers, and of -her she asked the way to her rooms. The girl at once preceded her up -the wide staircase and showed her the passage leading to the beautiful -suite of apartments she had seen in the morning, remarking: - -“Madame will be quite private here,--this passage is shut off from the -rest of the house, and is an entry to these rooms only, and if Madame -wants any service she will ring and I will come. My name is Rose.” - -“Thank you, Rose!” and Diana smiled at her, feeling a sense of relief -to know that she could have the attention of a simple ordinary domestic -such as this pleasant-looking little French _femme-de-chambre_,--for -somehow she had connected the dumb negro who had at first admitted her -to the Château with a whole imagined retinue of mysterious persons, -sworn to silence in the service of Dimitrius. “I will not trouble you -more than I can help--hark!--what is that noise?” - -A low, organ-like sound as of persistent thudding and humming echoed -around her,--it suggested suppressed thunder. The girl Rose looked -quite unconcerned. - -“Oh, that is the machine in the Doctor’s laboratory,” she said. “But it -does not often make any noise. We do not know quite what it is,--we are -not permitted to see!” She smiled, and added: “But Madame will not long -be disturbed--it will soon cease.” - -And indeed the thunderous hum died slowly away as she spoke, leaving a -curious sense of emptiness on the air. Diana still listened, vaguely -fascinated,--but the silence remained unbroken. Rose nodded brightly, -in pleased affirmation of her own words, and left the room, closing the -door behind her. - -Alone, Diana went to the window and looked out. What a glorious -landscape was spread before her!--what a panorama of the Divine -handiwork in Nature! Tears sprang to her eyes--tears, not of sorrow, -but of joy. - -“I hope I am grateful enough!” she thought. “For now I have every -reason to be grateful. I tried hard to feel grateful for all my -blessings at home,--yet somehow I couldn’t be!--there seemed no way out -of the daily monotony--no hope anywhere!--but now--now, with all this -unexpected good luck I could sing ‘Praise God from whom all blessings -flow!’ with more fervour than any Salvationist!” - -She went into the cosy bedroom which adjoined her _salon_ to see if -she looked neat and well-arranged enough in her dress to go down to -tea,--there was a long mirror there, and in it she surveyed herself -critically. Certainly that navy “model” gown suited her slim figure -to perfection--“And,” she said to herself, “if people only looked at -my hair and my too, too scraggy shape, they might almost take me for -‘young!’ But woe’s me!”--and she touched the corners of her eyes with -the tips of her fingers--“here are the wicked crow’s-feet!--_they_ -won’t go!--and the ‘lines from nose to chin’ which the beauty -specialists offer to eradicate and can’t,--the ugly ruts made by Time’s -unkind plough and my own too sorrowful habit of thought,--_they_ won’t -go, either! However, here it doesn’t matter,--the Doctor wanted ‘a -woman of mature years’--and he’s got her!” She smiled cheerfully at -herself in the mirror which reflected a shape that was graceful in its -outline if somewhat too thin--“distinctly willowy” as she said--and -then she began thinking about clothes, like any other feminine -creature. She was glad Sophy had made her buy two charming tea-gowns, -and one very dainty evening party frock; and she was now anxious to -give the “number” of the luggage she had left at the Salle des Bagages -to Dr. Dimitrius, so that it might be sent for without delay. Meanwhile -she looked at all the elegancies of her rooms, and noted the comfort -and convenience with which everything was arranged. One novelty -attracted and pleased her,--this was a small round dial, put up against -the wall, and marked with the hours at which meals were served. A -silver arrow, seemingly moved by interior clockwork, just now pointed -to “Tea, five o’clock,” and while she was yet looking at it, a musical -little bell rang very persistently behind the dial for about a minute, -and then ceased. - -“Tea-time, of course!” she said, and glancing at her watch she saw it -was just five o’clock. “What a capital invention! One of these in each -room saves all the ugly gong-beating and bell-ringing which is common -in most houses; I had better go.” - -She went at once, running down the broad staircase with light feet as -buoyantly as a girl, and remembering her way easily to the room where -she had breakfasted in the morning. Madame Dimitrius was there alone, -knitting placidly, and looking the very picture of contentment. She -smiled a welcome as Diana entered. - -“So you have come back to us!” she said. “I am very glad! One lady who -answered my son’s advertisement, went to see after her luggage in the -same manner as you were told to do--and--ran away!” - -“Ran away!” echoed Diana. “What for?” - -The old lady laughed. - -“Oh, I think she got afraid at the last moment! Something my son said, -or _looked_, scared her! But he was not surprised,--he has always given -every applicant a chance to run away!” - -“Not me!” said Diana, merrily. “For he made me sign an agreement, and -gave me some of my salary in advance--he would hardly expect me to run -away with his money?” - -“Why not?” and Dimitrius himself entered the room. “Why not, Miss May? -Many a woman and many a man has been known to make short work with an -agreement,--what is it but ‘a scrap of paper’? And there are any number -of Humans who would judge it ‘clever’ to run off with money confidingly -entrusted to them!” - -“You are cynical,” said Diana. “And I don’t think you mean what -you say. You know very well that honour stands first with every -right-thinking man or woman.” - -“Right-thinking! Oh, yes!--I grant you that,”--and he drew a chair -up to the tea-table where his mother had just seated herself. “But -‘right-thinking’ is a compound word big enough to cover a whole world -of ethics and morals. If ‘right-thinking’ were the rule instead of the -exception, we should have a real Civilisation instead of a Sham!” - -Diana looked at him more critically and attentively than she had yet -done. His personality was undeniably attractive,--some people would -have considered him handsome. He had wonderful eyes,--they were his -most striking feature--dark, deep, and sparkling with a curiously -brilliant intensity. He had spoken of his Russian nationality, -but there was nothing of the Kalmuck about him,--much more of the -picturesque Jew or Arab. An indefinable grace distinguished his -movements, unlike the ordinary type of lumbersome man, who, without -military or other training, never seems to know what to do with -his hands or his feet. He noticed Diana’s intent study of him, and -smiled--a charming smile, indulgent and kindly. - -“I mystify you a little already!” he said. “Yes, I am sure I do!--but -there are so many surprises in store for you that I think you had -better not begin putting the pieces of the puzzle together till they -are all out of the box! Never mind what I seem to you, or what I -may turn out to be,--enjoy for the present the simple safety of the -Commonplace; there’s nothing so balancing to the mind as a quiet -contemplation of the tea-table! By the way, did you arrange about your -luggage as I told you?” - -Diana nodded a cheerful assent. - -“Here’s the number,” she said. “And if you are going to send for it, -would you do so quite soon? I want to change my dress for dinner.” - -Dimitrius laughed as he took the number from her hand. - -“Of course you do!” he said. “Even ‘a woman of mature years’ is never -above looking her best! Armed with this precious slip of paper, I will -send for your belongings at once----” - -“It’s only a portmanteau,” put in Diana, meekly. “Not a Saratoga trunk.” - -He gave her an amused look. - -“Didn’t you bring any Paris ‘confections’?” - -“I didn’t wait in Paris,” she replied. “I came straight on.” - -“A long journey!” said Madame Dimitrius. - -“Yes. But I was anxious to get here as soon as I could.” - -“In haste to rush upon destiny!” observed Dimitrius, rising from the -tea-table. “Well! Perhaps it is better than waiting for destiny to rush -upon _you_! I will send for your luggage--it will be here in half an -hour. Meanwhile, when you have quite finished your tea, will you join -me in the laboratory?” - -He left the room. Madame Dimitrius laid down her knitting needles and -looked wistfully at Diana. - -“I hope you will not be afraid of my son,” she said, “or offended -at anything he may say. His brain is always working--always seeking -to penetrate some new mystery,--and sometimes--from sheer physical -fatigue--he may seem brusque,--but his nature is noble----” - -She paused, with a slight trembling of the lip and sudden moisture in -her kind blue eyes. - -Impulsively, Diana took her thin delicate old hand and kissed it. - -“Please don’t worry!” she said. “I am not easily offended, and I -certainly shall not be afraid! I like your son very much, and I think -we shall get on splendidly together--I do, indeed! I’m simply burning -with impatience to be at work for him! Be quite satisfied that I shall -do my best! I’m off to the laboratory now.” - -She went with a swift, eager step, and on reaching the outer hall was -unexpectedly confronted by the dumb negro who had at first admitted -her to the Château. He made her a sign to follow him, and she obeyed. -Down a long, winding, rather dark passage they went till their further -progress was stopped by a huge door made of some iridescent metal which -glowed as with interior fire. It was so enormously thick, and wide and -lofty, and clamped with such weighty bars and mysteriously designed -fastenings, that it might have been the door imagined by Dante when -he wrote: “All hope abandon, ye who enter here.” Diana felt her heart -beating a little more quickly, but she kept a good grip on her nerves, -and looked questioningly at her guide. His dark face gave no sign in -response; he merely laid one hand on the centre panel of the door with -a light pressure. - -“Come in!” said the voice of Dimitrius. “Don’t hesitate!” - -At that moment the whole door lifted itself as it were from a deep -socket in the ground and swung upwards like the portcullis of an -ancient bridge, only without any noise, disclosing a vast circular -space covered in by a dome of glass, or some substance clearer than -glass, through which the afternoon glory of the September sunshine -blazed with an almost blinding intensity. Immediately under the -dome, and in the exact centre of the circular floor, was a wonderful -looking piece of mechanism, a great wheel which swept round and round -incessantly and rapidly, casting from its rim millions and millions of -sparks of light or fire. - -“Come in!” again called Dimitrius. “Why do you stand waiting there?” - -Diana looked back for a second,--the great metal door had closed -behind her,--the negro attendant had disappeared,--she was shut within -this great weird chamber with Dimitrius and that whirling Wheel! A -sudden giddiness overcame her--she stretched out her hands blindly for -support--they were instantly caught in a firm, kind grasp. - -“Keep steady! That’s right!” This, as she rallied her forces and tried -to look up. “It’s not easy to watch any sort of Spherical Motion -without wanting to go with it among ‘the dancing stars!’ There! Better?” - -“Indeed, yes! I’m so sorry and ashamed!” she said. “Such a stupid -weakness! But I have never seen anything like it----” - -“No, I’m sure you have not!” And Dimitrius released her hands and stood -beside her. “To give you greater relief, I would stop the Wheel if I -could--but I cannot!” - -“You cannot?” - -“No. Not till the daylight goes. Then it will gradually cease -revolving of itself. It is only a very inadequate man-made exposition -of one of the Divine mysteries of creation,--the force of Light -which generates Motion, and from Motion, Life. Moses touched the -central pivot of truth in his Book of Genesis when he wrote: ‘The -earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of -the deep.... And God said, Let there be Light. And there was Light.’ -From that ‘Light,’ the effulgence of God’s own Actual Presence and -Intelligence, came the Movement which dispelled ‘darkness.’ Movement, -once begun, shaped all that which before was ‘without form’ and -filled all that had been ‘void.’ Light is the positive exhalation and -pulsation of the Divine Existence--the Active Personality of an Eternal -God;--Light, which enters the soul and builds the body of every living -organism,--therefore Light is Life.” - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -Diana listened to the quiet, emphatic tones of his voice in fascinated -attention. - -“Light is Life,” he repeated, slowly. “Light--and the twin portion -of Light,--Fire. The Rosicrucians have come nearer than any other -religious sect in the world to the comprehension of things divine. -Darkness is Chaos,--not death, for there is _no_ death--but confusion, -bewilderment and blindness which gropes for a glory instinctively felt -but unseen. In these latter days, science has discovered the beginning -of the wonders of Light,--they have always existed, but we have not -found them, ‘loving darkness rather than light.’ I say the ‘beginning -of wonders,’ for with all our advancement we have only become dimly -conscious of the first vibration of the Creator’s living presence. -Light!--which is ‘God walking in His garden,’--which is colour, -sound, heat, movement--all the Divine Power in eternal radiation and -luminance!--this is Life;--and in this _we_ live,--in this we _may_ -live, and renew our lives,--ay, and in this we may retain youth beyond -age! If we only have courage!--courage and the will to learn!” - -His brilliant dark eyes turned upon her with a searching steadfastness, -and her heart beat quickly, for there was something in his look which -suggested that it was from her he expected “courage and the will to -learn.” But she made no comment. Suddenly, and with an abrupt movement, -he pulled with both hands at a lever apparently made of steel,--like -one of the handles in a signal-box,--and with his action the level -floor beneath the great revolving wheel yawned asunder, showing a round -pool of water, black as ink and seemingly very deep. Diana recoiled -from it, startled. Dimitrius smiled. - -“Suppose I asked you to jump in?” he said. - -She thought a moment. - -“Well,--I should want to take off my dress first,” she answered. “It’s -a new one.” - -He laughed. - -“And then?” - -“Then?--Why, then I shouldn’t mind!” she said. “I can swim.” - -“You would not be afraid?” - -She met his eyes bravely. - -“No--I should not be afraid!” - -“Upon my word, I believe you! You’re a plucky woman! But then you’ve -nothing to lose by your daring, having lost all--so you told me. What -do you mean by having lost all?” - -“I mean just what I say,” she replied quietly. “Father, mother, home, -lover, youth, beauty and hope! Isn’t that enough to lose?” - -And, as she spoke, she gazed almost unseeingly at the wonderful Wheel -as it whirled round and round, glittering with a thousand colours which -were reflected in the dark mirror of the water below it. The sun was -sinking, and the light through the over-arching glass dome was softer, -and with each minute became more subdued,--and she noted with keen -interest that the revolution of the wheel was less rapid and dizzying -to the eye. - -“Enough to lose--yes!” said Dimitrius. “But the loss is quite common. -Most of us, as we get on in life, lose father and mother, home, and -even lover!--but that we should lose youth, beauty and hope is quite -our own affair! We ought to know better!” She looked at him in surprise. - -“How should we know better?” she asked. “Age must come,--and with age -the wrinkling and spoiling of all beautiful faces, to say nothing of -the aches and pains and ailments common to a general break-up of the -body-cells. We cannot defy the law of Nature.” - -“That is precisely what we are always doing!” said Dimitrius. “And -that is why we make such trouble for ourselves. We not only defy the -law of Nature in a bodily sense by over-eating, over-drinking and -over-breeding, but we ignore it altogether in a spiritual sense. -We forget,--and wilfully forget, that the body is only the outward -manifestation of a Soul-creature, not the Soul-creature itself. So we -starve the Light and feed the Shadow, and then foolishly wonder that, -with the perishing Light, the Shadow is absorbed in darkness.” - -He pulled at the steel lever again, and the mysterious pool of water -became swiftly and noiselessly covered as part of the apparently solid -ground. - -“One more thing before we go,” he resumed, and, taking a key from his -pocket, he unlocked a tiny door no bigger than the door of a child’s -doll house. “Come and see!” - -Diana obeyed, and bending down to peer into the small aperture -disclosed, saw therein a tube or pipe no thicker than a straw, from -which fell slowly drop by drop a glittering liquid into a hollow globe -of crystal. So brilliant and fiery was the colour of this fluid, -that it might have been an essence of the very sunlight. She looked -at Dimitrius in silent inquiry. He said nothing--and presently she -ventured to ask in a half whisper: - -“What is it?” - -His expression, as he turned and faced her, was so rapt and -transfigured as to be quite extraordinary. - -“It is life,--or it is death!” he answered. “It is my Great Experiment -of which _you_ will be the practical test! Ah, now you look amazed -indeed!--your eyes are almost young in wonder!--and yet I see no fear! -That is well! Now think and understand! All this mechanism,--which is -far more complex than you can imagine,--this dome of crystal above -us,--this revolving wheel moved by Light alone,--the deep water beneath -us through which the condensed and vibrating Light rushes with electric -speed,--these million whirling atoms of fire,--all this, I say, is -merely--remember!--merely to produce these miniature drops, smaller -by many degrees than a drop of dew, and so slowly are they distilled, -that it has taken me ten years to draw from these restless and opposing -elements a sufficient quantity for my great purpose. Ten years!--and -after all, who knows? All my thought and labour may be wasted!--I may -have taken the wrong road! The fiery sword turns every way, and even -now I may fail!” - -His face darkened,--the hope and radiance died out of it and left it -grey and drawn--almost old. Diana laid her hand on his arm with a soft, -consoling touch. - -“Why should you fail?” she asked, gently. “You yourself know the -object of your quest and the problem you seek to solve,--and I am sure -you have missed no point that could avail to lead you in the right -direction. And if, as I now imagine, you need a human life to risk -itself in the ultimate triumph of your work, you have mine entirely -at your service. As I have told you several times already, I am not -afraid!” - -He took the hand that lay upon his arm and kissed it with grave -courtesy. - -“I thank you!” he said. “I feel that you are perfectly sincere--and -honesty always breeds courage. Understand, my mother has never seen -this workshop of mine--she would be terrified. The dome was built for -me by my French architect, ostensibly for astronomical purposes--the -rest of the mechanism, bit by bit, was sent to me from different parts -of the world and I put it up myself assisted only by Vasho, my negro -servant, who is dumb. So my secret is, as far as possible, well kept.” - -“I shall not betray it,” said Diana, simply. - -He smiled. - -“I know you will not,” he answered. - -With almost a miser’s care he locked the tiny door which concealed -the mystery of the fiery-golden liquid dropping so slowly, almost -reluctantly, into its crystal receptacle. The sun had sunk below the -horizon, and shadows began to creep over the clearness of the dome -above them, while the great Wheel turned at a slower pace--and ever -more slowly as the light grew dim. - -“We will go now,” he said. “One or two ordinary people are coming to -dine--and your luggage will have arrived. I want you to live happily -here, and healthfully--your health is a most important consideration -with me. You look thin and delicate----” - -“I am thin--to positive scragginess,” interrupted Diana, “but I am not -delicate.” - -“Well, that may be; but you must keep strong. You will need all your -strength in the days to come.” - -They were at the closed door of the laboratory, which by some unseen -contrivance, evidently controlled by the pressure of the hand against a -particular panel, swung upwards in the same way as it had done before, -and when they passed out, slid downwards again behind them. They were -in the corridor now, dimly lit by one electric lamp. - -“You are not intimidated by anything I have shown you?” said Dimitrius, -then. “After all, you are a woman and entitled to ‘nerves!’” - -“Quite so,--nerves properly organised and well under control,” answered -Diana, quietly. “I am full of wonder at what I have seen, but I am not -intimidated.” - -“Good!” And a sudden smile lit up his face, giving it a wonderful -charm. “Now run away and dress for dinner! And don’t puzzle yourself by -thinking about anything for the present. If you _must_ think, wait till -you are alone with night and the stars!” - -He left her, and she went upstairs at once to her own rooms. Here -repose and beauty were expressed in all her surroundings and she looked -about her with a sigh of comfort and appreciation. Some careful hand -had set vases of exquisitely arranged flowers here and there,--and the -scent of roses, carnations and autumn violets made the already sweet -air sweeter. She found her modest luggage in her bedroom, and set to -work unpacking and arranging her clothes. - -“He’s quite right,--I mustn’t think!” she said to herself. “It would -never do! That wheel grinding out golden fire!--that mysterious pool -of water in which one might easily be drowned and never heard of any -more!--and those precious drops, locked up in a tiny hole!--what can -all these things mean? There!--I’m thinking and I mustn’t think! -But--is he mad, I wonder? Surely not! No madman ever put up such a -piece of mechanism as that Wheel! I’m thinking again!--I mustn’t -think!--I mustn’t think!” - -She soon had all her garments unpacked, shaken out, and arranged in -their different places, and, after some cogitation, decided to wear for -the evening one of the Parisian “rest” or “tea” gowns her friend Sophy -Lansing had chosen for her,--a marvellous admixture of palest rose -and lilac hues, with a touch or two of pearl glimmerings among lace -like moonlight on foam. She took some pains to dress her pretty hair -becomingly, twisting it up high on her small, well-shaped head, and -when her attire was complete she surveyed herself in the long mirror -with somewhat less dissatisfaction than she was accustomed to do. - -“Not so bad!” she inwardly commented, approving the picturesque fall -and flow of the rose and lilac silk and chiffon which clung softly -round her slim figure. “You are not entirely repulsive yet, Diana!--not -yet! But you will be!--never fear! Just wait a little!--wait till your -cheeks sink in a couple of bony hollows and your throat looks like the -just-wrung neck of a scrawny fowl!” Here she laughed, with a quaint -amusement at the unpleasant picture she was making of herself in the -future. “Yes, my dear! Not all the clouds of rosy chiffon in the world -will hide your blemishes then!--and your hair!--oh, your hair will be -a sort of grizzled ginger and you’ll have to hide it! So you’d better -enjoy this little interval--it won’t last long!” Suddenly at this -point in her soliloquy some words uttered by Dimitrius rang back on -her memory: “That we should lose youth, beauty and hope is quite our -own affair. We ought to know better.” She repeated them slowly once or -twice. “Strange!--a very strange thing to say!” she mused. “I wonder -what he meant by it? I’m sure if it had been my ‘own affair’ to keep -youth, beauty and hope, I would never have lost them! Oddly enough I -seem to have got back a little scrap of one of the losses--hope! But -I’m thinking again--I mustn’t think!” - -She curtsied playfully to her own reflection in the mirror, and seeing -by the warning “time dial” for meals that it was nearly the dinner -hour, she descended to the drawing-room. Three or four people were -assembled there, talking to Madame Dimitrius, who introduced Diana -as “Miss May, an English friend of ours who is staying with us for -the winter”--an announcement which Diana herself tacitly accepted as -being no doubt what Dr. Dimitrius wished. The persons to whom she was -thus presented were the Baroness Rousillon, a handsome Frenchwoman -of possibly fifty-six or sixty,--her husband, the Baron, a stout, -cheerful personage with a somewhat aggravating air of perpetual -_bonhomie_,--Professor Chauvet, a very thin little old gentleman with -an aquiline nose and drooping eyelids from which small, sparkling -dark eyes gleamed out occasionally like needle-points, and a certain -Marchese Luigi Farnese, a rather sinister-looking dark young man, -with a curiously watchful expression, as of one placed on guard over -some hidden secret treasure. They were all exceedingly amiable, -and asked Diana the usual polite questions,--whether she had had a -pleasant journey from England?--was the Channel rough?--was the weather -fine?--was she a good sailor?--and so on, all of which she answered -pleasantly in that sweet and musical voice which always attracted and -charmed her hearers. - -“And you come from England!” said Professor Chauvet, blinking at her -through his eyelids. “Ah! it is a strange place!” - -Diana smiled, but said nothing. - -“It is a strange place!” reiterated the Professor, with more emphasis. -“It is a place of violent contrasts without any intermediate tones. -Stupidity and good sense, moral cowardice and physical courage, petty -grudging and large generosity, jostle each other in couples all through -English society, yet after, and with these drawbacks, it is very -attractive!” - -“I’m so glad you like it,” said Diana, cheerfully. “I expect the same -faults can be found in all countries and with all nations. We English -are not the worst people in the world!” - -“By no means!” conceded the Professor, inclining his head courteously. -“You might almost claim to be the best--if it were not for France,--and -Italy,--and Russia!” - -The Baroness Rousillon smiled. - -“How clever of you, Professor!” she said. “You are careful to include -all nationalities here present in your implied compliment, and so you -avoid argument!” - -“Madame, I never argue with a lady!” he replied. “First, because it is -bad manners, and second, because it is always useless!” - -They all laughed, with the gentle tolerance of persons who know an old -saying by heart. Just then Dr. Dimitrius entered and severally greeted -his guests. Despite her efforts to seem otherwise entertained, Diana -found herself watching his every movement and trying to hear every word -he said. Only very few men look well in evening dress, and he was one -of those few. A singular distinction marked his bearing and manner; -in any assemblage of notable people he would have been assuredly -selected as one of the most attractive and remarkable. Once he caught -her eyes steadfastly regarding him, and smiled encouragingly. Whereat -she coloured deeply and felt ashamed of her close observation of him. -He took the Baroness Rousillon in to dinner, the Baron following with -Madame Dimitrius, and Diana was left with a choice between two men as -her escort. She looked in smiling inquiry at both. Professor Chauvet -settled the point. - -“Marchese, you had better take Miss May,” he said, addressing the dark -Italian. “I never allow myself to go in to dinner with any woman--it’s -my habit always to go alone.” - -“How social and independent of you!” said Diana, gaily, accepting the -Marchese’s instantly proffered arm. “You like to be original?--or is it -only to attract attention to yourself?” - -The Professor opened his eyes to their fullest extent under their -half-shut lids. Here was an Englishwoman daring to quiz him!--or, as -the English themselves would say, “chaff” him! He coughed, glared, -and tried to look dignified, but failed,--and was fain to trot, or -rather shuffle, in to the dining-room somewhat meekly at the trailing -end of Diana’s rose and lilac chiffon train. When they were all seated -at table, he looked at her with what was, for him, unusual curiosity, -realising that she was not quite an “ordinary” sort of woman. He began -to wonder about her, and where she came from,--it was all very well to -say “from England”--but up to now, all conversation had been carried on -in French, and her French had no trace whatever of the British accent. -She sat opposite to him, and he had good opportunity to observe her -attentively, though furtively. She was talking with much animation to -the Marchese Farnese,--her voice had the most enchanting modulation -of tone,--and, straining his ears to hear what she was saying, he -found she was speaking Italian. At this he was fairly nonplussed and -somewhat annoyed--he did not speak Italian himself. All his theories -respecting the British female were upset. _No_ British female--he said -this inwardly--_no_ single one of the species in his knowledge, talked -the French of France, or the Italian of Tuscany. He watched her with an -almost grudging interest. She was not young,--she was not old. - -“Some man has had the making or the marring of her!” he thought, -crossly. “No woman ever turned _herself_ out with such _aplomb_ and -_savoir faire_!” - -Meanwhile Diana was enjoying her dinner. She was cleverly “drawing out” -her partner at table, young Farnese, who proved to be passionately -keen on all scientific research, and particularly so on the mysterious -doings of Féodor Dimitrius. Happy to find himself next to a woman who -spoke his native tongue with charm and fluency, he “let himself go” -freely. - -“I suppose you have known Dr. Dimitrius for some time?” he asked. - -Diana thought for a second,--then replied promptly: - -“Oh, yes!” - -“He’s a wonderful man!” said Farnese. “Wonderful! I have myself -witnessed his cures of cases given up by all other doctors as hopeless. -I have asked him to accept me as a student under him, but he will -not. He has some mystery which he will allow no one but himself to -penetrate.” - -“Really!” and Diana lifted her eyebrows in an arch of surprise. “He has -never given me that impression.” - -“Ah, no!” and Farnese smiled rather darkly. “He would not appear in -that light to one of your sex. He does not care for women. His own -mother is not really aware of the nature of his studies or the object -of his work. Nobody has his confidence. As you are a friend of his you -must know this quite well?” - -“Oh, yes!--yes, of course!” murmured Diana, absently. “But nobody -expects a very clever man to explain himself to his friends--or to the -public. He must always do his work more or less alone.” - -“I agree!” said the Marchese. “And this is why I cannot understand the -action of Dimitrius in advertising for an assistant----” - -“Oh, has he done so?” inquired Diana, indifferently. - -“Yes,--for the last couple of months he has put a most eccentric -advertisement in many of the journals, seeking the services of an -elderly woman as assistant or secretary--I don’t know which. It’s some -odd new notion of his, and, I venture to think, rather a mistaken -one--for if he will not trust a man student, how much less can he rely -on an old woman!” - -“Eccellenza, you are talking to a woman now,” said Diana, calmly. “But -never mind! Go on--and don’t apologise!” - -Farnese’s dark olive skin flushed red. - -“But I must!” he stammered, awkwardly. “I ask a thousand pardons!” - -She glanced at him sideways with a laughing look. - -“You are forgiven!” she said. “Women are quite hardened to the ironies -and satires of your sex upon us,--and if we have any cleverness at -all we are more amused by them than offended. For we know you cannot -do without us! But certainly it is very odd that Dr. Dimitrius should -advertise for an old woman! I never heard anything quite so funny!” - -“He does not, I think, advertise for an actually old woman,” said -Farnese, relieved to find that she had taken his clumsy remark so -lightly. “The advertisement when I saw it mentioned a woman of mature -years.” - -“Oh, well, that’s a polite way of saying an old woman, isn’t it?” -smiled Diana. “And--do tell me!--has he got her?” - -“Why no!--not yet. Probably he will not get her at all. Even let us -suppose a woman offered herself who admitted that she was ‘of mature -years,’ that very fact would be sufficient proof of her incapacity.” - -“Indeed!” and Diana lifted her eyebrows again. “Why?” - -The Marchese smiled a superior smile. - -“Perhaps I had better not explain!” he said. “But for a woman to -arrive at ‘mature years’ without any interests in life except to offer -her probably untrained services to a man she knows nothing of except -through the medium of an advertisement is plain evidence that any such -woman must be a fool!” - -Diana laughed merrily--and her laughter was the prettiest ripple of -music. - -“Oh, yes!--of course! I see your meaning!” she said. “You are quite -right! But after all perhaps the elderly female is only wanted to add -up accounts, or write down measurements or something of that kind--just -ordinary routine work. Some lonely old spinster with no claims upon her -might be glad of such a chance----” - -“Are you discussing my advertisement?” interrupted Dimitrius suddenly, -sending a glance and smile at Diana from the head of the table. “I have -withdrawn it.” - -“Have you really?” said the Marchese. “That is not to say you are -suited?” - -“Suited? Oh, no! I shall never be suited! It was a foolish quest,--and -I ought to have known better!” His dark eyes sparkled mirthfully. “You -see I had rather forgotten the fact that no woman cares to admit she is -‘of mature years,’--I had also forgotten the well-known male formula -that ‘no woman can be trusted.’ However, I have only lost a few hundred -francs in my advertising--so I have nothing to regret except my own -folly.” - -“Had you many applications?” inquired Professor Chauvet. - -Dimitrius laughed. - -“Only one!” he answered, gaily. “And she was a poor lone lady who had -lost all she thought worth living for. Of course she was--impossible!” - -“Naturally!” and the Professor nodded sagaciously--“She would be!” - -“What was she like?” asked Diana, with an amused look. - -“Like no woman I have ever seen!” replied Dimitrius, smiling -quizzically at her. “Mature, and fully ripened in her opinions,--fairly -obstinate, and difficult to get rid of.” - -“I congratulate you on having succeeded!” said Farnese. - -“Succeeded? In what way?” - -“In having got rid of her!” - -“Oh, yes! But--I don’t think she wanted to go!” - -“No woman ever wants to go if there’s a good-looking bachelor with whom -she has any chance to stay!” said the Baron Rousillon, expanding his -shirt front and smiling largely all round the table. “The ‘poor lone -lady’ must have taken your rejection of her services rather badly.” - -“That’s the way most men would look at it,” replied Dimitrius. “But, -my dear Baron, I’m afraid we are rather narrow and primitive in our -ideas of the fair sex--not to say conceited. It is quite our own notion -that _all_ women need us or find us desirable. Some women would much -rather not be bored with us at all. One of the prettiest women I ever -knew remained unmarried because, as she frankly said, she did not wish -to be a housekeeper to any man or be bored by his perpetual company. -There’s something in it, you know! Every man has his own particular -‘groove’ in which he elects to run--and in his ‘groove’ he’s apt to -become monotonous and tiresome. That is why, when I advertised, I asked -for a woman ‘of mature years,’--someone who had ‘settled down,’ and who -would not find it wearisome to trot tamely alongside of _my_ special -‘groove,’ but of course it was very absurd on my part to expect to find -a woman of that sort who was at the same time well-educated and clever.” - -“You should marry, my dear Dimitrius!--you should marry!” said the -Baroness Rousillon, with a brilliant flash of her fine eyes and an -encouraging smile. - -“Never, my dear Baroness!--never!” he replied, with emphasis. “I am -capable of many things, but not of that most arrant stupidity! Were I -to marry, my work would be ruined--I should become immersed in the -domesticities of the kitchen and the nursery, living my life at no -higher grade than the life of the farmyard or rabbit-warren. In my -opinion, marriage is a mistake,--but we must not argue such a point in -the presence of a happily married couple like yourself and the Baron. -Look at our excellent friend, Chauvet! He has never married.” - -“Thank God!” ejaculated the Professor, devoutly,--while everybody -laughed. “Ah, you may laugh! But it is I who laugh last! When I see -the unfortunate husband going out for a slow walk with his wife and -three or four screaming, jumping children, who behave like savages, -not knowing what they want or where they wish to go, I bless my happy -fate that I can do my ten miles a day alone, revelling in the beauty of -the mountains and lakes, and enjoying my own thoughts in peace. Like -Amriel, I have not married because I am afraid of disillusion!” - -“But have you thought of the possible woman in the case?” asked Diana, -sweetly and suddenly. “Might she not also suffer from ‘disillusion’ if -you were her husband?” - -Laughter again rang round the table,--the Professor rose, glass of wine -in hand, and made Diana a solemn bow. - -“Madame, I stand reproved!” he said. “And I drink to your health and -to England, your native country! And in reply to your question, I am -honest enough to say that I think any woman who had been so unfortunate -as to marry me, would have put herself out of her misery a month after -the wedding!” - -Renewed merriment rewarded this _amende honorable_ on the part of -Chauvet, who sat down well pleased with himself--and well pleased, too, -with Diana, whom he considered quick-witted and clever, and whose -smile when he had made his little speech had quite won him over. - -Madame Dimitrius, chiefly intent on the hospitable cares of the -table, had listened to all the conversation with an old lady’s placid -enjoyment, only putting in a word now and then, and smiling with -affectionate encouragement at Diana, and dessert being presently -served, and cigars and cigarettes handed round by the negro, Vasho, who -was the sole attendant, she gave the signal for the ladies to retire. - -“You do not smoke?” said the Marchese Farnese, as Diana moved from her -place. - -“No, indeed!” - -“You dislike it?” - -“For women,--yes.” - -“Then you are old-fashioned!” he commented, playfully. - -“Yes. And I am very glad of it!” she answered, quietly, and followed -Madame Dimitrius and the Baroness Rousillon out of the room. As she -passed Dimitrius, who held open the door for their exit, he said a few -low-toned words in Russian which owing to her own study of the language -she understood. They were: - -“Excellent! You have kept your own counsel and mine, most admirably! I -thank you with all my heart!” - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -That first evening in the Château Fragonard taught Diana exactly what -was expected of her. It was evident that both Dimitrius and his mother -chose to assume that she was a friend of theirs, staying with them -on a visit, and she realised that she was not supposed to offer any -other explanation of her presence. The famous advertisement had been -“withdrawn,” and the Doctor had plainly announced that he was “not -suited,” and that he had resigned all further quest of the person -he had sought. That he had some good reason for disguising the real -facts of the case Diana felt sure, and she was quite satisfied to fall -in with his method of action. The more so, when she found herself -an object of interest and curiosity to the Baroness Rousillon, who -spared no effort to “draw her out” and gain some information as to her -English home, her surroundings and ordinary associations. The Baroness -had a clever and graceful way of cross-examining strangers through an -assumption of friendliness, but Diana was equally clever and graceful -in the art of “fence” and was not to be “drawn.” When the men left the -dinner-table and came into the drawing-room she was placed as it were -between two fires,--Professor Chauvet and the Marchese Farnese, both -of whom were undisguisedly inquisitive, Farnese especially--and Diana -was not slow to discover that his chief aim in conversing with her was -to find out something,--anything--which could throw a light on the -exact nature of the work in which Dimitrius was engaged. Perceiving -this, she played with him like a shuttlecock, tossing him away from -his main point whenever he got near it, much to his scarcely concealed -irritation. Every now and again she caught a steel-like flash in the -dark eyes of Dimitrius, who, though engaged in casual talk with the -Baron and Baroness Rousillon, glanced at her occasionally in fullest -comprehension and approval,--and somehow it became borne in upon her -mind that if Farnese only knew the way to the scientist’s laboratory, -he would have very little scruple about breaking into any part of it -with the hope of solving its hidden problem. - -“Why do you imagine there is any mystery about the Doctor’s works?” she -asked him. “I know of none!” - -“He would never let any _woman_ know,” replied Farnese, with -conviction. “But she might find out for herself if she were clever! -There is a mystery without doubt. For instance, what is that great dome -of glass which catches the sunlight on its roof and glitters in the -distance, when I look towards the Château from my sailing boat on the -lake----?” - -“Oh, you have a sailing boat on the lake?” exclaimed Diana, clasping -her hands in well-affected ecstasy. “How enchanting! Like Lord Byron, -when he lived at the Villa Diodati!” - -“Ah!” put in Professor Chauvet. “So you know your Byron! Then you are -not one of the moderns?” - -Diana smiled. - -“No. I do _not_ prefer Kipling to the author of ‘Childe Harold.’” - -“Then you are lost--irretrievably lost!” said the Professor. “In -England, at any rate. In England, if you are a true lover of -literature, you must sneer at Byron because it’s academic to do -so--Oxford and Cambridge have taken to decrying genius and worshipping -mediocrity. Byron is the only English poet known and honoured in other -countries than England--your modern verse writers are not understood in -France, Italy or Russia. Half a dozen of Byron’s stanzas would set up -all the British latter-day rhymers with ideas,--only, of course, they -would never admit it. I’m glad I’ve met an Englishwoman who has sense -enough to appreciate Byron.” - -“Thank you!” said Diana in a small, meek voice. “You are most kind!” - -Here Farnese rushed in again upon his argument. - -“That glass dome----” - -Diana smothered a tiny yawn. - -“Oh, that’s an astronomical place!” she said, indifferently. “You know -the kind of thing! Telescopes, globes, mathematical instruments--all -those sort of objects.” - -The Marchese looked surprised,--then incredulous. - -“An astronomical place?” he repeated. “Are you sure? Have you seen it?” - -“Why, yes, of course!” and she laughed. “Haven’t you?” - -“Never! He allows no visitors inside it.” - -“Ah, I expect you’re too inquisitive!” and she looked at him with a -bland and compassionate tolerance. “You see, being a woman, I don’t -care about difficult studies, such as astronomy. Women are not supposed -to understand the sciences,--they never _can_ grasp anything in the way -of mathematics, can they?” - -Farnese hesitated. - -Chauvet interposed quickly. - -“They can,--but to my mind they cease to be women when they do. They -become indifferent to the softer emotions----” - -“What emotions?” queried Diana, unfurling a little fan and waving it -slowly to and fro. - -“The emotions of love,--of tenderness,--of passion----” - -“Ah, yes! You mean the emotions of love, of tenderness, of passion--for -what? For man? Well, of course!--the most surface knowledge of -mathematics would soon put an end to that sort of thing!” - -“Dear English madame, you are pleased to be severe!” said Chauvet. “Yet -the soft emotions are surely ‘woman’s distinguishing charm’?” - -She laughed. - -“Men like to say so,” she replied. “Because it flatters their vanity -to rouse these ‘soft emotions’ and translate them into love for -themselves. But have you had any experience, Professor? If any woman -had displayed ‘soft emotions’ towards you, would you not have been -disposed to nip them in the bud?” - -“Most likely! I am not an object for sentimental consideration,--I -never was. I should have greatly regretted it if one of your charming -sex had wasted her time or herself on me.” - -Just then Madame Dimitrius spoke. - -“Dear Miss May, will you play us something?” - -She readily acquiesced, and seating herself at the grand piano, which -was open, soon scored a triumph. Her playing was exquisitely finished, -and as her fingers glided over the keys, the consciousness that she -was discoursing music to at least one or two persons who understood -and appreciated it gave her increased tenderness of touch and beauty -of tone. The dreary feeling of utter hopelessness which had pervaded -her, body and soul, when playing to her father and mother, “Ma” asleep -on the sofa, and “Pa” hidden behind a newspaper, neither of them -knowing or caring what composer’s work she performed, was changed to -a warm, happy sense of the power to give pleasure, and the ability to -succeed--and when she had finished a delicately wild little sonata of -Grieg’s, pressing its soft, half-sobbing final chord as daintily and -hushfully as she would have folded a child’s hands in sleep, a murmur -of real rapture and surprised admiration came from all her hearers. - -“But you are an artiste!” exclaimed the Baroness Rousillon. “You are a -professional _virtuoso_, surely?” - -“Spare me such an accusation!” laughed Diana. “I don’t think I _could_ -play to an audience for money,--it would seem like selling my soul.” - -“Ah, there I can’t follow you,” said Chauvet. “That’s much too -high-flown and romantic for me. Why not sell anything if you can find -buyers?” - -His little eyes glittered ferret-like between his secretive eyelids, -and Diana smiled, seeing that he spoke ironically. - -“This is an age of selling,” he went on. “The devil might buy souls by -the bushel if he wanted them!--(and if there _were_ such a person!) And -as for music!--why, it’s as good for sale and barter nowadays as a leg -of mutton! The professional musician is as eager for gain as any other -merchant in the general market,--and if the spirit of Sappho sang him a -song from the Elysian fields, he’d sell it to a gramophone agency for -the highest bid. And _you_ talk about ‘selling your soul!’ dear Madame, -with a thousand pardons for my _brusquerie_, you talk nonsense! How do -you know you have a soul to sell?” - -Before she could reply, Dimitrius interposed,--his face was shadowed by -a stern gravity. - -“No jesting with that subject, Professor!” he said. “You know my -opinions. Sacred things are not suited for ordinary talk,--the issues -are too grave,--the realities too absolute.” - -Chauvet coughed a little cough of embarrassment, and took out a pair -of spectacles from his pocket, polished them and put them back again -for want of something else to do. The Marchese Farnese looked up,--his -expression was eager and watchful--he was on the alert. But nothing -came of his expectancy. - -“Play to us again, Miss May,” continued Dimitrius in gentler accents. -“You need be under no doubt as to the existence of _your_ soul when you -can express it so harmoniously.” - -She coloured with pleasure, and turning again to the piano played the -“Prélude” of Rachmaninoff with a _verve_ and passion which surprised -herself. She could not indeed explain why she, so lately conscious of -little save the fact that she was a solitary spinster “in the way” -of her would-be juvenile father, and with no one to care what became -of her, now felt herself worthy of attention as a woman of talent -and individuality, capable of asserting herself as such wherever she -might be. The magnificent chords of the Russian composer’s despairing -protest against all insignificance and meanness, rolled out from under -her skilled finger-tips with all the pleading of a last appeal,--and -everyone in the room, even Dimitrius himself, sat, as it were, -spellbound and touched by a certain awe. An irresistible outburst of -applause greeted her as she carried the brilliant finale to its close, -and she rose, trembling a little with the nervous and very novel -excitement of finding her musical gifts appreciated. Professor Chauvet -got up slowly from his chair and came towards her. - -“After that, you may lead me where you like!” he said. “I am tame and -humble! I shall never disagree with a woman who can so express the -pulsations of a poet’s brain,--for that is what Rachmaninoff has put -in his music. Yes, _chère Anglaise_!--I never flatter--and you play -superbly. May I call you _chère Anglaise_?” - -“If it pleases you to do so!” she answered, smiling. - -“It does please me--it pleases me very much”--he went on--“it is a -sobriquet of originality and distinction. An Englishwoman of real -talent is precious--therefore rare. And being rare, it follows that she -is dear--even to me! _Chère Anglaise_, you are charming!--and if both -you and I were younger I should risk a proposal!” - -Everyone laughed,--no one more so than Diana. - -“You must have had considerable training to be such a proficient on the -piano?” inquired Farnese, with his look of almost aggressive curiosity. - -“Indeed no!” she replied at once. “But I have had a good deal of time -to myself one way and the other, and as I love music, I have always -practised steadily.” - -“We must really have an ‘afternoon’ in Geneva,” said the Baroness -Rousillon then. “You must be heard, my dear Miss May! The Genevese are -very intelligent--they ought to know what an acquisition they have to -their musical society----” - -“Oh, no!” interrupted Diana, anxiously--“Please! I could not play -before many people----” - -“No,--like everything which emanates from Spirit, music of the finest -quality is for the few,” said Dimitrius. “‘Where two or three are -gathered together there am I in the midst of them’--is the utterance of -all god-like Presences. Only two or three can ever understand.” - -Diana thanked him mutely by a look, and conversation now became -general. In a very short time the little party broke up, and Dimitrius -accompanied his guests in turn to the door. The Rousillons took Farnese -with them in their automobile,--Professor Chauvet, putting on a most -unbecoming and very shabby great-coat, went on his way walking--he -lived but half-a-mile or so further up the road. - -“In a small cottage, or châlet,”--he explained--“A bachelor’s hermitage -where I shall be happy to see you, Miss May, if you ever care to come. -I have nothing to show you but books, minerals and a few jewels--which -perhaps you might like to look at. Strange jewels!--with histories and -qualities and characteristics--is it not so, Dimitrius?” - -Dimitrius nodded. - -“They have their own mysteries, like everything else,” he said. - -Diana murmured her thanks for the invitation and bade him -good-night,--then, as he went out of the room with his host, she -turned to Madame Dimitrius and with a gentle, almost affectionate -consideration, asked if she could do anything for her before going to -bed. - -“No, my dear!” answered the old lady, taking her hand and patting it -caressingly. “It’s kind of you to think about me--and if I want you -I’ll ask you to come and help an old woman to be more useful than she -is! But wait a few minutes--I know Féodor wishes to speak to you.” - -“I have not displeased him, I hope, in any way?” Diana said, a little -anxiously. “I felt so ‘at home,’ as it were, that I’m afraid I spoke a -little too frankly as a stranger----” - -“You spoke charmingly!” Madame assured her--“Brightly, and with perfect -independence, which we admire. And need I say how much both my son and -I appreciated your quickness of perception and tact?” - -She laid a slight emphasis on the last word. Diana smiled and -understood. - -“People are very inquisitive,” went on Madame. “And it is better to -let them think you are a friend and guest of ours than the person for -whom my son has been advertising. That advertisement of his caused a -great deal of comment and curiosity,--and now that he has said he has -withdrawn it and that he does not expect to be suited, the gossip will -gradually die down. But if any idea had got about that _you_ were -the result of his search for an assistant, you would find yourself -in an embarrassing position. You would be asked no end of questions, -and our charming Baroness Rousillon would be one of the first to make -mischief--but thanks to your admirable self-control she is silenced.” - -“Will anything silence her?” and Dimitrius, entering, stood for a -moment looking at his mother and Diana with a smile. “I doubt it! But -Miss May is not at all the kind of woman the Baroness would take as -suitable for a scientific doctor’s assistant,--fortunately. She is not -old enough.” - -“Not old enough?” and Diana laughed. “Why, what age ought I to be?” - -“Sixty at least!” and he laughed with her. “The Baroness is a great -deal older than you are, but she still subjugates the fancy of some -men. Her idea of a doctor’s private secretary or assistant is a kind of -Macbeth’s witch, too severely schooled in the virtues of ugliness to -wear rose-coloured chiffon!” - -Diana flushed a little as he gave a meaning glance at her graceful -draperies,--then he added: - -“Come out for a moment in the loggia,--moonlight is often talked about -and written about, but it seldom gives such an impression of itself as -on an early autumn night in Switzerland. Come!” - -She obeyed,--and as she followed him to the marble loggia where the -fountains were still playing, an irresistible soft cry of rapture -broke from her lips. The scene she looked upon was one of fairy-like -enchantment,--the moonlight, pearly pure, was spread in long broad -wings of white radiance over the lawns in front of the Château, and -reaching out through the shadows of trees, touched into silver the -misty, scarcely discernible peaks of snow-mountains far beyond. A deep -silence reigned everywhere--that strange silence so frequently felt in -the vicinity of mountains,--so that when the bell of the chiming clock -set in the turret of the Château struck eleven, its sound was almost -startling. - -“This would be a night for a sail on the lake,” said Dimitrius. “Some -evening you must come.” - -She made no reply. Her soul was in her eyes--looking, looking wistfully -at the beauty of the night, while all the old, unsatisfied hunger ached -at her heart--the hunger for life at its best and brightest--for the -things which were worth having and holding,--and absorbed in a sudden -wave of thought she hardly remembered for the moment where she was. - -“Millions of people look at this moon to-night without seeing it,” said -Dimitrius, after a pause, during which he had watched her attentively. -“Millions of people live in the world without knowing anything about -it. They,--_themselves_,--are to them, the universe. Like insects, -they grub for food and bodily satisfaction,--like insects, they die -without having ever known any higher aim of existence. Yet, looking -on such loveliness as this to-night, do you not feel that something -more lasting, more real than the usual mode of life _was_ and _is_ -intended for us? Does it not seem a flaw in the Creator’s plan that -this creation should be invested with such beauty and perfection for -human beings who do not even see it? Do we make the utmost of our -capabilities?” - -She turned her eyes away from the moonlit landscape and looked at him -with rather a sad smile. - -“I cannot tell--I do not know,” she answered. “I am not skilled in -argument. But what almost seems to me to be the hardest thing in life -is, that we have so little time to learn or to understand. As children -and as very young people we are too brimful of animal spirits to think -about anything,--then, when we arrive at ‘mature years’ we find we -are ‘shelved’ by our fellow-men and women as old and unwanted. Women -especially are sneered at for age, as if it were a crime to live beyond -one’s teens.” - -“Only the coarsest minds and tongues sneer at a woman’s age,” said -Dimitrius. “They are the pigs of the common stye, and they must grunt. -I see you have suffered from their grunting! That, of course, is -because you have not put on the matrimonial yoke. You might get as old -as the good Abraham’s wife, Sara, without a sneer, so long as you had -become legitimately aged through waiting on the moods and caprices of a -husband!” He laughed, half ironically,--then drawing nearer to her by a -step, went on in a lower tone: - -“What would you say if you could win back youth?--not only the youth of -your best days, but a youth transfigured to a fairness and beauty far -exceeding any that you have ever known? What would you give, if with -that youth you could secure an increased mental capacity for enjoying -it?--an exquisite vitality?--a delight in life so keen that every beat -of your heart should be one of health and joy?--and that you should -hold life itself”--here he paused, and repeated the words slowly--“that -you should hold life itself, I say, in a ceaseless series of vibrations -as eternal as the making and re-making of universes?” - -His dark eyes were fixed upon her face with an intensity of meaning, -and a thrill ran through her, half of fear, half of wonderment. - -“What would I say?--what would I give? You talk like another -Mephistopheles to a female Faustus!” she said, forcing a laugh. “I -would not give my soul, because I believe I have a soul, and that it is -what God commands me to keep,--but I would give everything else!” - -“Your soul is part of your life,” said Dimitrius. “And you could not -give that without giving your life as well. I speak of _holding your -life_,--that is to say, _keeping it_. Understand me well! The soul is -the eternal and indestructible pivot round which the mechanism of the -brain revolves, as the earth revolves round the sun. The soul imparts -all light, all heat, all creation and fruition to the brain, though -it is but a speck of radiant energy, invisible to the human eye, even -through the most powerful lens. It is the immortal embryo of endless -existences, and in whatsoever way it instructs the brain, the brain -should be in tune to respond. That the brain seldom responds _truly_, -is the fault of the preponderating animalism of the human race. If you -can follow me, still listen!” - -She listened indeed,--every sense alert and braced with interest. - -“All ideas, all sentiments, all virtues, all sins, are in the cells of -the brain,” he went on. “The soul plays on these cells with vibrating -touches of light, just as you play on the notes of the piano, or -as a typist fingers the keyboard of the machine. On the quality or -characteristic of the soul depends the result. Youth is in the cells of -the brain. Should the cells become dry and withered, it is because the -soul has ceased to charge them with its energy. But when this is the -case, it is possible--I say it is possible!--for science to step in. -The spark can be re-energised,--the cells can be re-charged.” - -Diana caught her breath. Was he mad?--or sane with a sanity that -realises a miracle? She gazed at him as though plunging her eyes into a -well of mystery. - -He smiled strangely. “Poor lady of mature years!” he said. “You have -heard me, have you not? Well, think upon what I have said! I am not -mad, be assured!--I am temperate in reason and cool in blood. I am -only a scientist, bent on defying that Angel at the gate of Eden with -the flaming sword who ‘keeps the way of the Tree of Life,’ lest men -should take and eat and live for ever! It would not do for men in the -aggregate to live for ever, for most of them are little more than -mites in a cheese,--but as the Prophet Esdras was told: ‘This present -world is made for the many, but the world to come for the few.’ That -‘world to come’ does not mean a world _after_ death--but the world -of _here_ and _now_--a world ‘for the few’ who know how to use _it_, -and themselves!--a world where the same moonlight as this shines like -a robe of woven pearl spread over all human ugliness and ignorance, -leaving only God’s beauty and wisdom! Look at it once more!--make a -picture of it in your mind!--and then--good-night!” - -She raised her eyes to the dense purple of the sky, and let them wander -over the lovely gardens, drenched in silver glory--then extended her -hand. - -“Thank you for all you have told me,” she said. “I shall remember it. -Good-night!” - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -The next day Diana entered upon her work,--and for a fortnight -following she was kept fully employed. But nothing mysterious, -nothing alarming or confusing to the mind was presented for her -contemplation or co-operation. Not once was she called upon to enter -the laboratory where the strange wheel whirled at the bidding of the -influence of light, going faster or slower, according to the ascension -or declension of the sun; and not once did Dimitrius refer to the -subject of his discourse with her on that first moonlight night of her -arrival. Her knowledge of Latin and Greek stood her in good stead, -for she was set to translate some musty rolls of vellum, on which -were inscribed certain abstruse scientific propositions of a thousand -years old,--problems propounded by the Assyrians, and afterwards -copied by the Latins, who for the most part, had left out some of the -original phraseology, thereby losing valuable hints and suggestions, -which Dimitrius was studying to discover and replace. Diana was a -careful, clever, and devotedly conscientious worker; nothing escaped -her, and she shirked no pains to unravel the difficulties, which to -less interested students, might have seemed insuperable. Much as she -desired to know more of Dimitrius himself and his own special line of -research, she held her peace and asked no questions, merely taking -his instructions and faithfully doing exactly as she was told. She -worked in the great library where he had at first received her, and -where the curious steel instrument she had noticed on entering, swung -to and fro continuously, striking off a pin’s point of fire as it -moved. Sometimes in the pauses of her close examination of the faded -and difficult Latin script on which all her energies were bent, she -would lift her eyes and look at this strange object as though it were -a living companion in the room, and would almost mentally ask it to -disclose its meaning; and one morning, impelled by a sudden fancy, she -put her watch open on the table, and measured the interval between one -spark of fire and the next. She at once found that the dots of flame -were struck off with precision at every second. They were, in fact, -seconds of time. - -“So that, if one had leisure to watch the thing,” she mused, “one would -know that when sixty fire-flashes have flown into air, one minute has -passed. And I wonder what becomes of these glittering particles?” - -She knew well enough that they did not perish, but were only absorbed -into another elemental organism. She had observed, too, that the -movement of the whole machine, delicately balanced on its crystal -pedestal, was sharp and emphatic when the sun was at the meridian, -and more subdued though not less precise in the afternoon. She had -very little opportunity, however, to continue a long watching of this -inexplicable and apparently meaningless contrivance after midday, as -then her hours of work were considered over and she was free to do as -she liked. Sometimes she remained in her own apartments, practising her -music, or reading,--and more often than not she went for a drive out -into the open country with Madame Dimitrius with the light victoria -and pair, which was a gift from Dimitrius to his mother, who could -not be persuaded to drive in a motor-car. It was a charming turn-out, -recognised in the neighbourhood as “the Doctor’s carriage”--for though -Geneva and its environs are well supplied with many professors of -medicine and surgery, Dimitrius seemed at this period to have gained a -reputation apart from the rest as “the” doctor, _par excellence_. Once -Diana asked him whether he had a large practice? He laughed. - -“None at all!” he replied. “I tell everybody that I have retired -from the profession in order to devote all my time to scientific -research--and this is true. But it does not stop people from sending -for me at a critical moment when all other efforts to save a life have -failed. And then of course I do my best.” - -“And are you always successful?” she went on. - -“Not always. How can I be? If I am sent for to rescue a man who has -overfed and over-drunken himself from his youth onwards, and who, as -a natural consequence, has not a single organ in his body free from -disease, all my skill is of no avail--I cannot hinder him from toppling -into the unconsciousness of the next embryo, where, it is to be hoped, -he will lose his diseases with his fleshy particles. I can save a -child’s life generally--and the lives of girls and women who have not -been touched by man. The life-principle is very strong in these,--it -has not been tampered with.” - -He closed the conversation abruptly, and she perceived that he had no -inclination to talk of his own healing power or ability. - -After about a month or six weeks at the Château Fragonard, Diana began -to feel very happy,--happier than she had ever been in her life. Though -she sometimes thought of her parents, she knew perfectly that they -were not people to grieve long about any calamity,--besides which, -her “death” was not a calamity so far as they were concerned. They -would call it such, for convention’s sake and in deference to social -and civil observances--but “Ma” would console herself with a paid -“companion-housekeeper”--and if that companion-housekeeper chanced -to be in the least good-looking or youthful, “Pa” would blossom out -into such a juvenility of white and “fancy” waistcoats and general -conduct as frequently distinguishes elderly gentlemen who are loth -to lose their reputation for gallantry. And Diana wasted no time -in what would have been foolish regret, had she felt it, for her -complete and fortunate severance from “home” which was only home to -her because her duty made her consider it so. A great affection had -sprung up between her and Madame Dimitrius; the handsome old lady -was a most lovable personality, simple, pious, unaffected, and full -of a devotion for her son which was as touching as it was warm and -deep. She had absolute confidence in him, and never worried him by -any inquisitiveness concerning the labours which kept him nearly all -day away from her, shut up in his laboratory, which he alone had the -secret of opening or closing. Hers was the absolute reliance of “the -perfect love which casteth out fear;” all that he did was right and -_must_ be right in her eyes,--and when she saw how whole-heartedly and -eagerly Diana threw herself into the tedious and difficult work he -had put before her to do, she showed towards that hitherto lonely and -unloved woman a tenderness and consideration to which for years she -had been unaccustomed. Very naturally Diana responded to this kindness -with impulsive warmth and gratitude, and took pleasure in performing -little services, such as a daughter might do, for the sweet-natured and -gentle lady whose friendship and sympathy she appreciated more and more -each day. She loved to help her in little household duties,--to mend -an occasional tiny hole in the fine old lace which Madame generally -wore with her rich black silk gowns,--to see that her arm-chair and -foot-stool were placed just as she liked them to be,--to wind the wool -for her knitting, and to make her laugh with some quaint or witty -story. Diana was an admirable _raconteuse_, and she had a wonderful -memory,--moreover, her impressions of persons and things were tinged -with the gaiety of a perceptive humour. Sometimes Dimitrius himself, -returning from a walk or from a drive in his small open auto-car, -would find the two sitting together by a cheerful log fire in the -drawing-room, laughing and chatting like two children, Diana busy with -her embroidery, her small, well-shaped, white hands moving swiftly and -gracefully among the fine wools from which she worked her “Jacobean” -designs, and his mother knitting comforts for the poor in preparation -for the winter which was beginning to make itself felt in keen airs and -gusts of snow. On one of these occasions he stood for some minutes on -the threshold, looking at them as they sat, their backs turned towards -him, so that they were not at once aware of his presence. Diana’s head, -crowned with its bright twists of hair, was for the moment the chief -object of his close attention,--he noted its compact shape, and the -line of the nape of the neck which carried it--a singularly strong -and perfect line, if judged by classic methods. It denoted health -and power, with something of pride,--and he studied it anatomically -and physiologically with all the interest of a scholar. Suddenly -she turned, and seeing him apparently waiting at the door, smiled a -greeting. - -“Do you want me?” she asked. - -He advanced into the room. - -“Ought I to want you?” he counter-queried. “These are not working -hours! If you were a British workman such an idea as my wanting you -‘out of time’ would never enter your head! As a British working -_woman_, you should stipulate for the same privileges as a British -working man.” - -He drew a chair to the fire, and as his mother looked at him with -loving, welcoming eyes, he took her hand and kissed it. - -“Winter is at hand,” he continued, giving a stir with the poker to the -blazing logs in the grate. “It is cold to-day--with the cold of the -glaciers, and I hear that the snow blocks all the mountain passes. We -are at the end of October--we must expect some bitter weather. But in -Switzerland the cold is dry and bracing--it strengthens the nerves and -muscles and improves the health. How do you stand a severe winter, Miss -May?” - -“I have never thought about it,” she answered. “All seasons have beauty -for me, and I have never suffered very much by either the cold or the -heat. I think I have been more interested in other things.” - -He looked at her intently. - -“What other things?” - -She hesitated. A faint colour stole over her cheeks. - -“Well,--I hardly know how to express it--things of life and death. I -have always been rather a suppressed sort of creature--with all my aims -and wishes pent up,--pressed into a bottle, as it were, and corked -tight!” She laughed, and went on. “Perhaps if the cork were drawn there -might be an explosion! But, wrongly or rightly, I have judged myself -as an atom of significance made _in_significant by circumstances and -environment, and I have longed to make my ‘significance,’ however -small, distinct and clear, even though it were only a pin’s point of -meaning. If I said this to ordinary people, they would probably exclaim -‘How dull!’ and laugh at me for such an idea----” - -“Of course!--dull people would laugh,” agreed Dimitrius. “People in the -aggregate laugh at most things, except lack of money. That makes them -cry--if not outwardly, then inwardly. But I do not laugh,--for if you -can forget heat and cold and rough weather in the dream of seeking to -discover your own significance and meaning in a universe where truly -nothing exists without its set place and purpose, you are a woman -of originality as well as intelligence. But that much of you I have -already discovered.” - -She glanced at him brightly. - -“You are very kind!” - -“Now do you mean that seriously or ironically?” he queried, with a -slight smile. “I am not really ‘very kind’--I consider myself very -cruel to have kept you chained for more than a month to rolls of vellum -inscribed with crabbed old Latin characters, illegible enough to -bewilder the strongest eyes. But you have done exceedingly well,--and -we have all three had time to know each other and to like each other, -so that a harmony between us is established. Yes--you have done more -than exceedingly well----” - -“I am glad you are pleased,” said Diana, simply, resting one hand on -her embroidery frame and looking at him with somewhat tired, anxious -eyes. “I was rather hoping to see you this evening, though it is, -as you say, after working hours, for I wanted very much to tell you -that the manuscript I am now deciphering seems to call for your own -particular attention. I should prefer your reading it with me before I -go further.” - -“You are very conscientious,” he said, fixing his eyes keenly upon -her--“Is she not, mother mine? She is afraid she will learn something -important and necessary to my work before I have a chance to study it -for myself. Loyal Miss Diana!” - -Madame Dimitrius glanced wistfully from her son to Diana, and from -Diana back to her son again. - -“Yes, she is loyal, Féodor! You have found a treasure in her,” she -said--“I am sure of it. It seems a providence that she came to us.” - -“Is it not Shakespeare who says, ‘There’s a special providence in the -fall of a sparrow’?” he queried lightly. “How much more ‘special’ then -is the coming of a Diana!” - -It was the first time he had used her Christian name without any -ceremonious prefix in her presence, and she was conscious of a thrill -of pleasure, for which she instantly reproached herself. “I have no -business to care what or how he calls me,” she thought. “He’s my -employer,--nothing more.” - -“Diana,” repeated Dimitrius, watching her narrowly from under his -now half-shut eyelids. “Diana is a name fraught with beautiful -associations--the divine huntress--the goddess of the moon! Diana, the -fleet of foot--the lady of the silver bow! What poets’ dreams, what -delicate illusions, what lovely legends are clustered round the name!” - -She looked at him, half amused, half indifferent. - -“Yes,--it is a thousand pities I was ever given such a name,” she -said. “If I were a Martha, a Deborah or a Sarah, it would suit me much -better. But Diana! It suggests a beautiful young woman----” - -“You were young once!” he suggested, meaningly. - -“Ah, yes, once!” and she sighed. “Once is a long time ago!” - -“I never regret youth,” said Madame Dimitrius. “My age has been much -happier and more peaceful. I would not go back to my young days.” - -“That is because you have fulfilled your particular destiny,” -interposed her son,--“You fell in love with my father--what happy times -they must have been when the first glamour of attraction drew you both -to one another!--you married him,--and I am the result! Dearest mother, -there was nothing more for you to do, with your devoted and gentle -nature! You became the wife of a clever man,--he died, having fulfilled -_his_ destiny in giving you--may I say so?--a clever son,--myself! What -more can any woman ask of ordinary nature?” - -He laughed gaily, and putting his arm round his mother, fondled her as -if she were a child. - -“Yes, beloved!--you have done all your duty!” he went on. “But you -have sacrificed your own identity--the thing that Miss Diana calls her -‘significance.’ You lost that willingly when you married--all women -lose it when they marry:--and you have never quite found it again. But -you _will_ find it! The slow process of evolution will make of you a -‘fine spirit’ when the husk of material life is cast off for wider -expansion.” - -As he spoke, Diana looked at mother and son with the odd sense of being -an outside spectator of two entirely unconnected identities,--the one -overpowering and shadowing the other, but wholly unrelated and more or -less opposed in temperament. Madame Dimitrius was distinguished by an -air of soft and placid dignity, made sympathetic by a delicate touch -of lassitude indicative of age and a desire for repose, while Féodor -Dimitrius himself gave the impression of a strong energy restrained and -held within bounds as a spirited charger is reined and held in by his -rider, and, above all, of a man aware of his own possibilities and full -of set resolve to fulfil them. - -“Is that embroidery of a very pressing nature?” he suddenly said, then, -with a smile. “Or do you think you could spare a few moments away from -it?” - -She at once put aside her frame and rose. - -“Did I not ask you when you came in if you wanted me?” she queried. -“Somehow I was quite sure you did! You know I am always ready to serve -you if I can.” - -He still had one arm round his mother,--but he raised his eyes and -fixed them on Diana with an expression which was to her new and strange. - -“I know you are!” he said, slowly. “And I shall need your service in a -difficulty--very soon! But not just now. I have only a few things to -say which I think should not be put off till to-morrow. We’ll go into -the library and talk there.” - -He bent down and kissed his mother’s snowy and still luxuriant hair, -adding for her benefit: - -“We shall not be long, dearest of women! Keep warm and cosy by the -fire, and you will not care for the ‘significance’ of yourself so long -as you are loved! That is all some women ask for,--love.” - -“Is it not enough?” said Diana, conscious of her own “asking” in that -direction. - -“Enough? No!--not half or quarter enough! Not for some women or some -men--they demand more than this (and they have a right to demand more) -out of the infinite riches of the Universe, Love,--or what is generally -accepted under that name, is a mere temporary physical attraction -between two persons of opposite sex, which lessens with time as it -is bound to lessen because of the higher claims made on the soul,--a -painful thing to realise!--but we must not shiver away from truth like -a child shivering away from its first dip in the sea, or be afraid of -it. Lovers forget lovers, friends forget friends, husbands forget wives -and _vice versa_,--the closest ties are constantly severed----” - -“You are wrong, Féodor--we do _not_ forget!” said Madame Dimitrius, -with tender reproach in her accents. “I do not forget your father--he -is dear to me as lover and husband still. And whether God shall please -to send my soul to heaven or to hell, I could never forget my love for -_you!_” - -“Beloved, I know!--I feel all you say--but you are an exception to -the majority--and we will not talk personalities! I cannot”--here he -laughed and kissed her hand again--“I cannot have my theories upset by -a _petite Maman_!” - -He left the room then and Diana followed him. Once in the library he -shut the door and locked it. - -“Now you spoke of something in your translations that seemed to call -for my attention,” he said. “I am ready to hear what it is.” - -Diana went to the table desk where she habitually worked, and took up -some pages of manuscript, neatly fastened together in readable form. - -“It is a curious subject,” she said. “In the Assyrian originals it -seems to have been called ‘The problem of the Fourth, Sixth and -Seventh, culminating in the Eighth.’ Whether the Latin rendering truly -follows the ancient script, it is, of course, impossible to say,--but -while deciphering the Latin, I came to the conclusion that the Fourth, -Sixth and Seventh were named in the problem as ‘rays’ or ‘tones’ of -light, and the proposed culmination of the Eighth----” - -“Stop!” exclaimed Dimitrius, in a strained, eager voice. “Give me your -papers!--let me see!” - -She handed them to him at once, and he sat down to read. While he was -thus occupied, her gaze constantly wandered to the small, scythe-like -instrument mowing off the seconds in dots of flame as a mower sweeps -off the heads of daisies in the grass. A curious crimson colour seemed -to be diffused round the whole piece of mechanism,--an effect she -had never noticed before, and then she remembered it was late in the -afternoon and that the sun had set. The rosy light emanating from the -instrument and deeply reflected in the crystal pedestal on which it -was balanced, seemed like an after-glow from the sky,--but the actual -grey twilight outside was too pronounced and cold to admit of such an -explanation. - -Suddenly Dimitrius looked up. - -“You are right!” he said. “This ancient problem demands my closest -study. And yet it is no problem at all, but only an exposition of -my inmost thought!” He paused,--then: “Come here, Diana May!” he -continued--“I may as well begin with you. Come and sit close beside me.” - -She obeyed. With his eyes fixed upon her face, he went on: - -“You, as a woman of superior intelligence, have never supposed, I am -sure, that I have secured your services merely to decipher and copy -out old Latin script? No!--I see by your look that you have fully -realised that such is not all the actual need I have of you. I have -waited to find out, by a study of your character and temperament, when -and how I could state plainly my demands. I think I need not wait much -longer. Now this ancient treatise on ‘Problems,’ obscure and involved -in wording as it is, helps me to the conviction that I am on the right -track of discovery. It treats of Light. ‘The problem of the Fourth, -Sixth and Seventh,’ with its ‘ultimate culmination of the Eighth’ is -the clue. In that ‘ultimate culmination’ is the Great Secret!” - -His eyes flashed,--his features were transfigured by an inward fervour. - -“Have the patience to follow me but a little,” he continued. “You have -sense and ability and you can decipher a meaning from an apparent chaos -of words. Consider, then, that within the limitations of this rolling -ball, the earth, we are permitted to recognise seven tones of music -and seven tones of colour. The existing numbers of the creative sum, -so far as we can count them, are Seven and Five, which added together -make Twelve, itself a ‘creative’ number. Man recognises in himself Five -Senses, Touch, Taste, Sight, Hearing, Smell--but as a matter of fact -he has Seven, for he should include Intuition and Instinct, which are -more important than all the others as the means of communicating with -his surroundings. Now ‘the culmination of the Eighth’ is neither Five -nor Seven nor Twelve,--it is the close or rebound of the Octave--the -end of the leading Seven--the point where a fresh Seven begins. It is -enough for humanity to have arrived at this for the present--for we -have not yet sounded the heights or depths of even the _first_ Seven -radiations which we all agree to recognise. We admit seven tones of -music, and seven tones of colour, but what of our seven rays of light? -We have the ‘violet ray,’ the ‘X ray’--and a newly discovered ray -showing the working bodily organism of man,--but there are _Seven_ -Rays piercing the density of ether, which are intended for the use and -benefit of the human being, and which are closely connected with his -personality, his needs and his life. Seven Rays!--and it is for us to -prove and test them all!--which is the very problem you have brought to -my notice in this old Latin document: ‘the Fourth, Sixth and Seventh, -culminating in the Eighth.’” - -He put the papers carefully together on the table beside him, and -turned to Diana. - -“You have understood me?” - -She bent her head. - -“Perfectly!” - -“You recall the incidents of the first day of your arrival here?--your -brief visit to my laboratory, and what you saw there?” - -She smiled. - -“Do you think I could ever forget?” - -“Well!--that being so I do not see why I should wait,” he said, -musingly, and speaking more to himself than to her. “There is no reason -why I should not begin at once the task which is bound to be long and -difficult! My ‘subject’ is at my disposal--I am free to operate!” - -He rose and went to an iron-bound cabinet which he unlocked and took -from thence a small phial containing what appeared to be a glittering -globule like an unset jewel, which moved restlessly to and fro in its -glass prison. He held it up before her eyes. - -“Suppose I ask you to swallow this?” he said. - -For all answer, she stretched out her hand to take the phial. He -laughed. - -“Upon my word, you are either very brave or very reckless!” he -exclaimed--“I hardly know what to think of you! But you shall not -be deceived. This is a single drop of the liquid you saw in process -of distillation within its locked-up cell,--it has a potent, ay, -a terrific force and may cause you to swoon. On the other hand -it may have quite the contrary effect. It _should_ re-vivify--it -_may_ disintegrate,--but I cannot guarantee its action. I know its -composition, but, mark you!--_I have never tested it on any human -creature._ I cannot try it on myself--for if it robbed me of my -capacity to work, I have no one to carry on my researches,--and I would -not try it on my mother,--she is too old, and her life is too precious -to me----” - -“Well, my life is precious to nobody,” said Diana, calmly. “Not even to -myself. Shall I take your ‘little dram’ now?” - -Dimitrius looked at her in amazement that was almost admiration. - -“If you would rather wait a few days, or even weeks longer, do so,” he -answered. “I will not persuade you to any act of this kind in a hurry. -For it is only the first test of many to come.” - -“And if I survive the first I shall be good for the last,” said Diana, -merrily. “So come, Doctor Féodor!--give me the mysterious ‘drop’ of -liquid fire!” - -Her face was bright with animation and courage--but his grew pale and -haggard with sudden fear. As he still hesitated, she sprang up and took -the phial from his hand. - -“Diana! Let me hold you!” he cried, in real agitation--and he caught -her firmly round the waist--“Believe me--there is danger!----But--if -you _will_----” - -“One, two, three, and away!” said she, and taking the tiny glass -stopper from the phial she swallowed its contents. - -“One, two, three, and away!” it was, indeed!--for she felt herself -whirled off into a strange, dark, slippery vortex of murderous -cold--which suddenly changed to blazing heat--then again to cold,--she -saw giant pinnacles of ice, and enormous clouds of flame rolling upon -her as from a burning sky--then, she seemed to be flying along over -black chasms and striving to escape from a whirlwind which enveloped -her as though she were a leaf in a storm,--till at last no thought, no -personal consciousness remained to her, and, giving up all resistance, -she allowed herself to fall,--down, down ever so far!--when, all at -once a vital freshness and elasticity possessed her as though she had -been suddenly endowed with wings, and she came to herself standing -upright as before, with Dimitrius holding her in the strong grasp of -one arm. - -“Well!” she said, aware that she trembled violently, but otherwise not -afraid: “It wasn’t bad! Not much taste about it!” - -She saw that he was deadly pale--his eyes were misty with something -like tears in them. - -“You brave woman!” he said, in a low tone--“You daring soul!--But--are -you sure you are all right?--Can you stand alone?” - -She drew away from his hold. - -“Of course! Firm as a rock!” - -He looked at her wonderingly,--almost with a kind of terror. - -“Thank God!” he murmured--“thank God I have not killed you! If I -had----!” - -He dropped into a chair and buried his face in his hands. - -Still trembling a little as she was, she felt deeply touched by his -evident emotion, and with that sudden, new and surprising sense of -lightness and buoyancy upon her she ran to him and impulsively knelt -down beside him. - -“Don’t think of it, please!” she said, entreatingly, her always sweet -voice striking a soothing note on the air--“Don’t worry! All is well! -I’m as alive as I can be. If you had killed me I quite understand you -would have been very sorry,--but it really wouldn’t have mattered--in -the interests of science! The only trouble for you would have been to -get rid of my body,--bodies are always such a nuisance! But with all -your knowledge I daresay you could have ground me into a little heap -of dust!” And she laughed, quite merrily. “Please don’t sit in such -an attitude of despair!--you’re not half cold-hearted enough for a -scientist!” - -He raised his head and looked at her. - -“That’s true!” he said, and smiled. “But--I wonder what has made you -the strange woman you are? No fear of the unknown!--No hesitation, even -when death might be the result of your daring,--surely there never was -one of your sex like you!” - -“Oh, yes, I’m sure there have been, and are many!” she answered, -rising from her knees, and smiling in cheerful response to his happier -expression: “Women are queer things!--and there’s a part of their -‘queerness’ which men never understand. When they’ve lost everything--I -mean everything which they, with their particular nature and sentiment, -regard as precious, the chief of these being love, which _you_ don’t -think matters much to anybody, they get reckless. Some of them take -to drink--others to drugs--others to preaching in the streets--others -to an openly bad life,--or to any crooked paths leading away and -as far as possible from their spoilt womanhood. Men are to blame -for it,--entirely to blame for treating them as toys instead of as -friends--men are like children who break the toys they have done -with. And a woman who has been broken in this way has ‘no fear of the -unknown’ because the known is bad enough,--and she does not ‘hesitate -to face death,’ being sure it cannot be worse than life. At any rate, -that’s how I feel--or, rather, how I _have_ felt;--just now I’m -extraordinarily glad to be alive!” - -“That is because you are conscious of a narrow escape,” he said, with a -keen glance at her. “Isn’t it so?” - -She considered for a moment. - -“No, I don’t believe it is!” she replied. “It’s something quite -different to that. I’m not in the least aware that I’ve had a narrow -escape!--but I _do_ know that I feel as happy as a schoolgirl out for -her first holiday! That’s rather an odd sensation for a woman ‘of -mature years!’ Oh, I know what it is! It’s the globule!” - -She laughed, and clapped her hands. - -“That’s it! Doctor, you may thank your stars that your first test has -succeeded! Here I am, living!--and _something_ is dancing about in my -veins like a new sort of air and a new sort of sunshine! It’s a lovely -feeling!” - -He rose from the chair where he had thrown himself in his momentary -dejection, and approaching her, took her hand and laid his fingers on -her pulse. He had entirely recovered his usual air of settled and more -or less grave composure. - -“Yes,” he said, after a pause, “your pulse is firmer--and _younger_. -So far, so good! Now, obey me. Go and lie down in your own room for -a couple of hours. Sleep, if you can,--but, at any rate, keep in a -recumbent position. You have a charming view from your windows,--and -even in a grey autumn twilight like this, there is something soothing -in the sight of the Alpine snow-line. Rest absolutely quiet till -dinner time. And--afterwards--you will tell me how you feel,--or, -rather, I shall be able to judge for myself.” He released her hand, -but before doing so, kissed it with a Russian’s usual courtesy. “I -repeat,--you are a brave woman!--as brave as any philosopher that -ever swallowed hemlock! And, if your courage holds out sufficiently -to endure the whole of my experiment, I shall owe you the triumph and -gratitude of a life-time!” - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -Once in her own pretty suite of rooms, Diana locked the door of the -_entresol_, so that no one might enter by chance. She wished to be -alone that she might collect her thoughts and meditate on the “narrow -escape” which she had experienced without actually realising any -danger. Her sitting-room was grey with the creeping twilight, and she -went to the window and opened it, leaning out to breathe the snowy -chillness of the air which came direct from the scarcely visible -mountains. A single pale star twinkled through the misty atmosphere, -and the stillness of approaching night had in it a certain heaviness -and depression. With arms folded on the window-sill she looked as far -as her eyes could see--far enough to discern the glimmering white of -the Savoy Alps which at the moment presented merely an outline, as of -foam on the lip of a wave. After a few minutes she drew back and shut -the window, pulling the warm tapestry curtains across it, and pressing -the button which flooded her room with softly-shaded electric light. -Then she remembered--she had been told to rest in a recumbent position, -so, in obedience to this order she lay down on the comfortable sofa -provided for her use, stretching herself out indolently with a sense of -delightful ease. She was not at all in a “lazing” mood, and though she -tried to go to sleep she could not. - -“I’m broad awake,” she said to herself. “And I want to think! It isn’t -a case of ‘mustn’t think’ now--I feel I _must_ think!” - -And the first phase of her mental effort was her usual one of -“wonder.” Why had she so much confidence in Dimitrius? How was it that -she was quite ready to sacrifice herself to his “experiment”? - -“It seems odd,” she argued--“and yet, it isn’t. Because the fact is -plain that I have nothing to live for. If I had any hope of ever being -a ‘somebody’ or of doing anything really useful of course I should care -for my life, but, to be quite honest with myself, I know I’m of no use -to anyone, except to--_him_! And I’m getting a thousand a year and -food and a home--a lovely home!--so why shouldn’t I trust him? If--in -the end--his experiment kills me--as he seemed to think it might, just -now--well!--one can only die once!--and so far as the indifferent folks -at home know or believe, I’m dead already!” - -She laughed, and nestled her head cosily back on the silken -sofa-cushions. “Oh, I’m all right, I’m sure! Whatever happens will be -for the best. I’m certainly not afraid. And I feel so well!” - -She closed her eyes--then opened them again, like a child who has been -told to go to sleep and who gives a mischievous bright glance at its -nurse to show that it is wide awake. Moving one little slim foot after -the other she looked disapprovingly at her shoes. - -“Ugly things!” she said. “They were bought in the Devonshire -village--flat and easy to get about the house with--suitable for a -housekeeping woman ‘of mature years!’ I don’t like them now! They don’t -seem to suit my feet at all! If I had really ‘turned up my toes to the -daisies’ when I swallowed that mysterious globule these shoes would not -have added to the grace of my exit!” - -Amused at herself she let her thoughts wander as they would--and it -was curious how they flew about like butterflies settling only on -the brightest flowers of fancy. She had grown into a habit of never -looking forward to anything--but just now she found herself keenly -anticipating a promised trip to Davos during the winter, whither -she was to accompany Dimitrius and his mother. She was a graceful -skater--and a skating costume seemed suggested--why not send her -measurements to Paris and get the latest? A pleasant vision of rich, -royal blue cloth trimmed with dark fur flitted before her--then she -fancied she could hear her father’s rasping voice remarking: “Choose -something strong and serviceable--linsey-woolsey or stuff of that -kind--your mother used to buy linsey-woolsey for her petticoats, and -they _never_ wore out. You should get that sort of material--never mind -how it _looks_!--only very young people go in for mere fashion!” - -She indulged in a soft little giggle of mirth at this reminiscence of -“Pa,” and then with another stretch out of her body, and a sense of -warmest, deepest comfort, she did fall asleep at last--a sleep as sweet -and dreamless as that of a child. - -She was roused by a knocking at the door of the _entresol_, and sprang -up, remembering she had locked it. Running to open it, she found the -_femme-de-chambre_, Rose, standing outside. - -“I am so sorry to disturb Madame,” said the girl, smiling. “But there -is only now a quarter of an hour to dinnertime, and Monsieur Dimitrius -sent me to tell you this, in case you were asleep.” - -“I _was_ asleep!” and Diana twisted up a tress of her hair which had -become loosened during her slumber. “How dreadfully lazy of me! Thank -you, Rose! I won’t be ten minutes dressing.” - -While she spoke she noticed that Rose looked at her very curiously -and intently, but made no remark. Passing into the rooms, the maid -performed her usual duties of drawing blinds, closing shutters and -turning on the electric lights in the bedroom,--then, before going, she -said: - -“Sleep is a great restorer, Madame! You look so much better for an -afternoon’s rest!” - -With that she retired,--and Diana hurried her toilette. She was in such -haste to get out of her daily working garb into a “rest gown” that she -never looked in the mirror till she began to arrange her hair, and -then she became suddenly conscious of an alteration in herself that -surprised her. What was it? It was very slight--almost too subtle to -be defined,--and she could not in the least imagine where the change -had occurred, but there was undoubtedly a difference between the face -that had looked at her from that same mirror some hours previously -and the one that looked at her now. It was no more than the lightest -touch given by some great painter’s brush to a portrait--a touch which -improves and “lifts” the whole expression. However, she had no time to -wait and study the mystery,--minutes were flying, and the silver arrow -of the warning dial pointed to the figure eight, and its attendant -word “Dinner.” Even as she looked, the chime struck the hour,--so she -almost jumped into a gown of pale blue, chosen because it was easy to -put on, and pinning a few roses from one of the vases in her room among -the lace at her neck, she ran downstairs just in time to see Dimitrius -taking his mother on his arm, as he always did when there were no -guests, into the dining-room. She followed quickly with the murmured -apology: - -“I’m so sorry to be late!” - -“Never mind, my dear,” said Madame Dimitrius. “Féodor tells me you have -had some hard work to do, and that he wished you to rest. I hope you -slept?” - -But, as she put the question, her eyes opened widely in a sudden -expression of wonderment, and she gazed at Diana as though she were -something very strange and new. - -“Yes, she must have slept, I think,” put in Dimitrius quietly and with -marked emphasis. “She looks thoroughly rested.” - -But Madame Dimitrius was still preoccupied by thoughts that bewildered -her. She could hardly restrain herself while the servant Vasho was in -the room, and the moment he left it to change the courses, she began: - -“Féodor, don’t you see a great difference----” - -He made her a slight warning sign. - -“Dear Mother, let us defer questions till after dinner! Miss Diana! To -your health!” And he held up his glass of champagne towards her. “You -are looking remarkably well!--and both my mother and I are glad that -the air of Switzerland agrees with you!” - -Half pleased, half puzzled, Diana smiled her recognition of the -friendly toast, but in her own mind, wondered what it all meant? Why -did dear old Madame Dimitrius stare at her so much? Why did even Vasho, -the negro servant, roll the whites of his eyes at her as though she -were somebody he had never seen before? And taking these things into -account, why did Dimitrius himself maintain such an indifferent and -uninterested demeanour? - -Nevertheless, whatever the circumstances might portend, she was more -disposed to mirth than gravity, and the delicious _timbre_ of her -voice made music at table, both in speaking and laughter,--the music -of mingled wit and eloquence, rare enough in a man, but still rarer -in a woman. Very few women have the art of conversing intelligently, -and at a dinner nowadays the chief idea seems to be to keep on “safe” -ground, avoiding every subject of any real interest. But Diana was -not particular in this regard,--she talked, and talked well. On this -evening she seemed to throw herself with greater zest into the always -for her congenial task of keeping her mysterious “employer” and his -mother amused,--and Dimitrius himself began to feel something of the -glamour of a woman’s fascination against which he had always been as -he boasted--“spirit-proof.” His was a curious and complex nature. For -years and years, ever since his early boyhood, he had devoted himself -to the indefatigable study of such arts and sciences as are even now -regarded as only “possible,” but “non-proven,”--and he had cut himself -off from all the ordinary ambitions as well as from the social customs -and conventions of the world, in order to follow up a certain clue -which his researches had placed in his hands. Though his ultimate -intention was to benefit humanity he was so fearful of miscalculating -one line of the mathematical problem he sought to solve, that for the -time being, humanity weighed as nothing in his scale. He would admit -of no obstacle in his path, and though he was not a cruel man, if -he had found that he would need a hundred human “subjects” to work -upon, he would have killed them all without compunction, had killing -been necessary to the success of his experiments. And yet,--he had -a heart, which occasionally gave him trouble as contending with his -brain,--for the brain was cool and calculating, and the heart was warm -and impulsive. He had never actually shunned women, because they too, -as well as men, were needful points of study,--but most of the many he -had met incurred his dislike or derision because of what he considered -their unsettled fancies and general “vagueness.” His mother he adored; -but to no other woman had he ever accorded an atom of really deep or -well-considered homage. When he advertised for a woman to help him in -his experimental work, he did so, honestly because he judged a woman, -especially “of mature years,” was of no particular use to anybody, or, -if she did happen to be of use, she could easily be replaced. With an -almost brutal frankness, he had said to himself: “If the experiment I -make upon her should prove fatal, she will be the kind of human unit -that is never missed.” - -But Diana was an unexpected sort of “unit.” Her independence, clear -perception and courage were a surprise to him. Her “mature years” did -not conceal from him the fact that she had once been charming to look -at,--and one point about her which gave him especial pleasure was her -complete resignation of any idea that she could have attraction for men -at her age. He knew how loth even the oldest women are to let go this -inborn notion of captivating or subjugating the male sex,--but Diana -was wholesomely free from any touch of the “volatile spinster,”--and -unlike the immortal Miss Tox in “Dombey and Son,” was not in the least -prone to indulge in a dream of marriage with the first man who might -pay her a kindly compliment. And his dread of the possible result of -his first experimental essay upon her was perfectly genuine, while -his relief at finding her none the worse for it was equally sincere. -Looking at her now, and listening to her bright talk and to the soft -ripple of her low, sweet laughter, his thoughts were very busy. She was -his “subject;” a living subject bound by her signed agreement to be -under his command and as much at his disposal as a corpse given over -for anatomical purposes to a surgeon’s laboratory. He did not propose -to have any pity upon her, even if at any time her condition should -call for pity. His experiment must be carried out at all costs. He did -not intend to have any more “heart” for her than the vivisector has -for the poor animal whose throbbing organs he mercilessly probes;--but -to-night he was conscious of a certain attraction about her for which -he was not prepared. He was in a sense relieved when dinner was over, -and when she and his mother left the room. As soon as they had gone he -addressed Vasho: - -“Did you see?” - -The negro inclined his head, and his black lips parted in a smile. - -“It is the beginning!” said Dimitrius, meditatively. “But the end is -far off!” - -Vasho made rapid signs with his fingers in the dumb alphabet. His words -were: - -“The Master will perhaps be over-mastered!” - -Dimitrius laughed, and patted the man kindly on the shoulder. - -“Vasho, you are an oracle! How fortunate you are dumb! But your ears -are keen,--keep them open!” - -Vasho nodded emphatically, and with his right hand touched his forehead -and then his feet, signifying that from head to foot he was faithful to -duty. - -And Dimitrius thereupon went into the drawing-room, there to find Diana -seated on a low stool beside his mother’s chair, talking animatedly -about their intended visit to Davos Platz. Madame Dimitrius instantly -assailed him with the question she had previously started at dinner. - -“Féodor, you put me off just now,” she said, “but you really must tell -me if you see any change in Diana! Look at her!”--and she put one hand -under Diana’s chin and turned her face more up to the light--“Isn’t -there a very remarkable alteration in her?” - -Dimitrius smiled. - -“Well, no!--not a very remarkable one,” he answered, with affected -indifference. “A slight one,--certainly for the better. All doctors -agree in the opinion that it is only after a month or two in a -different climate that one begins to notice an improvement in health -and looks----” - -“Nonsense!” interrupted his mother, with a slight touch of impatience. -“It’s not that sort of thing at all! It’s something quite different!” - -“Well, what _is_ it?” laughed Diana. “Dear, kind Madame Dimitrius!--you -always see something nice in me!--which is very flattering but which I -don’t deserve! You are getting used to my appearance--that’s all!” - -“You are both in league against me!” declared the old lady, shaking her -head. “Féodor knows and _you_ know that you _are_ quite different!--I -mean that you have a different expression--I don’t know what it is----” - -“I’m sure _I_ don’t!” Diana said, still laughing. “I feel very well and -very happy--much better than I have felt for a long time--and of course -if one _feels_ well one looks well----” - -“Did you feel as well and happy a few hours ago, when you left me to go -and do some work for Féodor?” asked Madame. “You did not look then as -you look now!” - -Diana glanced at Dimitrius questioningly, mutely asking what she should -say next. He gave her a reassuring smile. - -“You are like a Grand Inquisitor, mother mine!” he said. “And sharp -as a needle in your scrutiny! Perhaps you are right!--Miss May _is_ -a little altered. In fact I think I may acknowledge and admit the -fact--but I’m sure it is so slight a change that she has scarcely -noticed it herself. And when she has retired and gone to bed, you and I -will have a little private talk about it. Will that satisfy you?” - -She looked at him trustfully and with a great tenderness. - -“I am not unsatisfied even now, my son!” she answered, gently--“I am -only curious! I am like the lady in the fairy tale of ‘Blue Beard’--I -want to unlock your cupboard of mystery! And you won’t cut my head off -for that, will you?” - -He laughed. - -“I would sooner cut off my own!” he said, gaily. “Be sure of that! You -shall know all that is needful, in good time! Meanwhile, Miss Diana -had better leave us for the present”--Diana at once rose and came -towards him to say good-night--“I hope I am not giving you too abrupt a -dismissal,” he added, “but I think, under the circumstances, you should -get all the rest you can.” - -She bent her head in mute obedience, thanking him with a smile. As she -turned with a softly breathed “good-night” to Madame Dimitrius, the old -lady drew her close and kissed her. - -“Bless you, my dear!” she said. “If you change in your looks, do not -change in your heart!” - -“That can hardly be guaranteed,” said Dimitrius. - -Diana looked at him. - -“Can it not? But I will be my own guarantee,” she said. “I shall not -change--not in love for my friends. Good-night!” - -As she left the room they both looked after her,--her figure had a -supple, swaying grace of movement which was new and attractive, and in -an impulse of something not unlike fear, Madame Dimitrius laid her hand -entreatingly on her son’s arm. - -“What have you done to her, Féodor? What are you doing?” - -His eyes glittered with a kind of suppressed menace. - -“Nothing!” he answered. “Nothing, as yet! What I _shall_ do is another -matter! I have begun--and I cannot stop. She is my subject,--I am like -that old-world painter, who, in sheer devotion to his art, gave a slave -poison, in order that he might be able to watch him die and so paint a -death-agony accurately.” - -“Féodor!” She gave a little cry of terror. - -“Do not be afraid, mother mine! My task is an agony of birth--not -death!--the travail of a soul reconstituting the atoms of its earthly -habitation,--recharging with energy the cells of its brain--the work of -a unit whose house of clay is beginning to crumble, and to whom I give -the material wherewith to build it up again! It all depends, of course, -on the unit’s own ability,--if you break a spider’s web, the mending -of it depends on the spider’s industry, tenacity and constructive -intelligence,--but, whatever happens, mark you!--_whatever_ happens, I -have begun my experiment, and I must go on! I must go on to the very -end,--no matter what that end may be!” - -She looked at him in wonder and appeal. - -“You will not,--you cannot be cruel, Féodor?” she said, in a voice -which trembled with suppressed alarm. “You will not injure the poor -woman who works for you so patiently, and who trusts you?” - -“How can I tell whether I shall or shall not injure her?” he demanded, -almost fiercely. “Science accepts no half service. The ‘poor woman,’ -as you call her, knows her risks and has accepted them. So far, no -injury has been done. If I succeed, she will have cause to thank me for -the secret I have wrenched from Nature,--should I fail, she will not -complain very much of a little more hurried exit from a world, where, -according to her own statement, she is alone and unloved.” - -Madame Dimitrius clasped and unclasped her delicate old hands -nervously, and the diamonds in a ring she wore glittered scarcely more -than the bright tears which suddenly fell from her eyes. Moved by a -pang of remorse, he fell on his knees beside her. - -“Why, mother!” he murmured, soothingly--“you should not weep! Can -you not trust me? This woman, Diana May, is a stranger, and nothing -to you. Certainly she is a kind, bright creature, with a great many -undeveloped gifts of brain and character, which make her all the -more useful to me. I give her as much chance as I give myself. If I -let her alone,--that is to say, if I ignore all the reasons for which -I engaged her, and allow her to become a mere secretary, or your -domestic companion,--she goes on in the usual way of a woman of her -years,--withering slowly--sinking deeper in the ruts of care, and -fading into a nonentity for whom life is scarcely worth the living. On -the other hand, if I continue my work upon her----” - -“But _what_ work?” asked his mother, anxiously. “What result do you -expect?” - -He rose from his kneeling attitude, and straightened himself to his -full height, lifting his head with an unconscious air of defiance and -pride. - -“I expect Nature to render me obedience!” he said. “I expect the -surrender of the Flaming Sword! It ‘turns every way to keep the way of -the Tree of Life’--but the hilt must be given into _my_ hand!” - -“Féodor! Oh, my son! Such arrogance is blasphemy!” - -“Blasphemy? Mother, you wrong yourself and me by the thought! Blasphemy -is a lie to God, like the utterance of the ‘Credo’ by people who do -_not_ believe,--but there is no blasphemy in searching for a truth as -part of God’s mind, and devoutly accepting it _when_ found! The priest -who tells his congregation that God is to be pleased or pacified by -sufficient money in the collection plate blasphemes,--but I who most -humbly adore His unspeakable Beneficence in placing the means of health -and life in our hands, and who seek to use those means intelligently, -do _not_ blaspheme! I praise God with all my heart,--I believe in Him -with all my soul!” - -His attitude at the moment was superb; his expression as of one -inspired. His mother looked at him fondly, but the tears were still in -her eyes. - -“Féodor,” she said at last tremulously--“I--I have grown fond of -Diana. I shall not be able to look on and see her suffer!” - -He bent his brows upon her almost sternly. - -“When you _do_ see her suffer it will be time to speak”--he -answered--“Not before! And whatever else you see, having no connection -with ‘suffering’ in any way, you must allow to pass without comment or -inquiry. You love me, I know,--well, you will never prove your love -for me more than by consenting to this. If at any moment you can tell -me that Diana May is unhappy or in pain, I promise you I will do my -best to spare her. But if nothing of this sort happens I rely on your -silence and discretion. May I do so?” - -She inclined her head gently. - -“You may!” - -He took her hand and kissed its soft, finely wrinkled whiteness. - -“That’s my kind mother!” he said, tenderly--“Always indulgent to me -and my fancies as you have been, I know you will not fail me now! -And so,--whatever change you observe or _think_ you observe in my -‘subject,’ you must accept it as perfectly natural (for it will be) and -not surprising or disturbing. And you must tactfully check the comments -and questions of others. I foresee that Chauvet will be tiresome,--he -has taken a great fancy to Diana. And Farnese, of course, is a -perpetual note of interrogation. But these people must be kept at a -distance. You have grown fond of Diana, you say,--fond of this complete -stranger in our house!--but I am glad of it, for she needs some sort -of tenderness in a life which seems to have been exceptionally lonely. -Grow still fonder of her, if you like!--indeed, it is probable you -will. For though she is anything but a child, she has all a child’s -affection in her which apparently has been wasted, or has met with -scant return.” - -“You think so?” And Madame Dimitrius looked up with a smile. - -“I do think so, assuredly, but because I think so it does not follow -that any return can come from _me_,” he said. “You are a person of -sentiment--I am not. _You_ are the one to supply her with the manna -which falls from the heaven of a loving heart. And by doing so you will -help my experiment.” - -“You will not tell me what the experiment really is?” she asked. - -“No. Because, if it fails I prefer to ridicule myself rather than -that you should ridicule me. And if I succeed the whole value of my -discovery consists in keeping it secret.” - -“Very well!” And his mother rose and put away her knitting. “You shall -do as you will, Féodor!--you were always a spoilt boy and you will be -spoilt to the end! My fault, I know!” - -“Yes, your fault, beloved!” he said--“But a fault of instinctive -knowledge and wisdom! For if you had not let me follow my own way I -might not have stumbled by chance on another way--a way which leads----” - -He broke off abruptly with a wonderful “uplifted” look in his eyes. She -came to him and laid her gentle hands upon his shoulders. - -“A way which leads--where, my Féodor? Tell me!” - -He drew her hands down and held them warmly clasped together in his. - -“The way to that ‘new heaven and new earth’ where God is with men!” he -answered, in a low, rapt tone--“‘Where there shall be no more death, -nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain,’ and where ‘the -former things are passed away!’ Be patient with my dream! It may come -true!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -Meantime, Diana, up in her own room, was engaged in what to her had, of -late years, been anything but an agreeable pastime,--namely, looking -at herself in the mirror. She was keenly curious to find out what was -the change in her appearance which had apparently surprised Madame -Dimitrius so much that she could hardly be restrained, even by her -masterful son, from expressing open wonderment. She stood before the -long cheval glass, gazing deeply into it as if it were the magic mirror -of the “Lady of Shalott,” and as if she saw - - “The helmet and the plume - Of bold Sir Lancelot.” - -Her face was serious,--calmly contemplative,--but to herself she -could not admit any positive change. Perhaps the slightest suggestion -of more softness and roundness in the outline of the cheeks and an -added brightness in the eyes might be perceived,--but this kind of -improvement, as she knew, happened often as a temporary effect of -something in the atmosphere, or of a happier condition of mind, and -was apt to vanish as rapidly as it occurred. Still looking at herself -with critical inquisitiveness, she slipped out of her pale blue -gown and stood revealed in an unbecoming gauntness of petticoat and -camisole,--so gaunt and crude in her own opinion that she hastened to -pull the pins out of her hair, so that its waving brightness might fall -over her scraggy shoulders and flat chest and hide the unfeminine -hardness of these proportions. Then, with a deep sigh, she picked up -her gown from the floor where she had let it fall, shook out its folds -and hung it up in the wardrobe. - -“It’s all nonsense!” she said. “I’m just the same thin old thing as -ever! What difference Madame Dimitrius can see in me is a mystery! And -_he_----” - -Here, chancing to turn her head rather quickly from the wardrobe -towards the mirror again, she saw the charming profile of--a pretty -woman!--a woman with fair skin and a sparkling eye that smiled in -opposition to the gravity of rather set lip-lines,--and the suddenness -of this apparition gave her quite a nervous start. - -“Who is it?” she half whispered to the silence,--then, as she moved her -head again and the reflection vanished, “Why, it’s me! I do believe -it’s me!” - -Amazed, she sat down to think about it. Then, with a hand-glass she -tried to recapture the vision, but in vain!--no position in which she -now turned gave just the same effect. - -“It’s enough to drive one silly!” she said--“I won’t bother myself any -more about it. The plain truth is that I’m better in health and happier -in mind than I’ve ever been, and of course I look as I feel. Only the -dear Madame Dimitrius hasn’t noticed it before--and he?--well, he never -notices anything about me except that I do his work well, or well -enough to suit him. If his mysterious ‘globule’ had killed me, I wonder -whether he would have been really sorry?” - -She considered a moment,--then shook her head in a playful negative -and smiled incredulously. She finished undressing, and throwing a warm -boudoir wrap about her, a pretty garment of pale rose silk lined with -white fur which had been a parting gift from her friend Sophy Lansing, -and which, as she had declared, was “fit for a princess,” she went into -her sitting-room, where there was a cheerful wood fire burning, and sat -down to read. Among the several books arranged for her entertainment on -a row of shelves within reach of the hand, was one old one bearing the -title: “Of the Delusions whereby the Wisest are Deluded”--and the date -1584. Taking this down she opened it haphazard at a chapter headed: -“Of the Delusion of Love.” It was written in old style English with -many quaint forms of expression, more pointed and pithy than our modern -“newspaper slang.” - - * * * * * - -“How many otherwise sober and sane persons are there,” soliloquised -the ancient author--“who nevertheless do pitifully allow themselves -to be led astray by this passion, which considered truly, is no more -than the animal attraction of male for female, and female for male, no -whit higher than that which prevails in the insect and brute world. For -call it Love as they will, it is naught but Lust, as low an instinct or -habit as that of craving for strong liquor or any wherewithall to still -the insatiate demands of uncontrolled appetite. Love hath naught to do -with Lust,--for Love is a Principle, not a Passion. For this cause it -is comforting to read in Holy Scripture that in Heaven there is neither -marrying nor giving in marriage, for there we are as the angels. And to -be as the angels implyeth that we shall live in the Principle and not -in the Passion. Could we conceive it possible on this earth for such an -understanding to be arrived at between two persons of intelligence that -they should love each other in this highest sense, then there would -be no satiety in their tenderness for one another, and the delicacies -of the soul would not be outraged by the coarseness of the body. It -is indeed a deplorable and mournful contemplation, that we should be -forced to descend from the inexpressible delights of an imagined ideal -to the repulsive condition of the material stye, and that the fairest -virgin, bred up softly, with no rougher composition of spirit than that -of a rose or a lily, should be persuaded by this delusion of ‘love’ to -yield her beauties to the deflowering touch which destroys all maidenly -reserve, grace and modesty. For the familiarity of married relations -doth, as is well known, put an end to all illusions of romance, and -doth abase the finest nature to the gross animal level. And though it -is assumed to be necessary that generations should be born without -stint to fill an already over-filled world, meseemeth the necessity is -not so great as it appeareth. Wars, plagues and famines are bred from -the unwisdom of over-population, for whereas the over-production of -mites in a cheese do rot the cheese, so doth the over-production of -human units rot the world. Therefore it is apparent to the sage and -profound that while the material and animal portion of the race may -very suitably propagate their kind, they having no higher conception of -their bodies or their souls, the more intelligent and cleanly minority -of purer and finer temperament may possibly find the way to a nobler -and more lasting ‘love’ than that which is wrongfully called by such a -name,--a love which shall satisfy without satiating, and which shall -bind two spirits so harmoniously in one, that from their union shall be -born an immortal offspring of such great thoughts and deeds as shall -benefit generations unborn and lead the way back to the lost Paradise!” - -Here Diana let the book fall in her lap, and sat meditating, gazing -into the hollows of the wood fire. Love! It was the thing she had -longed for,--the one joy she had missed! To be loved,--to be “dear to -someone else” seemed to her the very acme of all desirable attainment. -For with Tennyson’s hero in “Maud” she felt: - - “If I be dear to some one else - I should be to myself more dear.” - -Her thoughts went “homing” like doves down the air spaces of memory -to the days when she had, or was fooled into believing she had, a -lover whose love would last,--a bold, splendid creature, with broad -shoulders and comely countenance, and “eyes which looked love to eyes -that spake again,”--and when, as the betrothed bride of the Splendid -Creature, she had thanked God night and morning for giving her so -much happiness!--when the light in the skies and the flowers in the -fields apparently took part in the joyous gratitude of her spirit, -and when the very songs of the birds had seemed for her a special -wedding chorus! She went over the incidents of that far-away period -of her existence,--and presently she began to ask herself what, after -all, did they amount to? Why, when they were all cruelly ended, had -she shed such wild tears and prayed to God in such desperate agony? -Was it worth while to have so shaken her physical and spiritual -health for any Splendid Creature? For what had he done to merit such -passionate regret?--such weeping and wailing? He had kissed her a -great deal (when he was in the mood for kissing), and sometimes more -than she quite cared for. He had embraced her in gusts of brief and -eager passion, tinged with a certain sensuality which roused in her -reluctant repulsion--he had called her by various terms of endearment -such as “sweetest,” “dearest,” and “wood-nymph,” a name he had bestowed -upon her on one occasion when he had met her by chance in a shady -corner of Kew Gardens, and which he thought poetical, but which she -privately considered silly,--but what real meaning could be attached -to these expressions? When, all suddenly, his regiment was ordered to -India, and she had to part from him, he had sworn fidelity, and with -many protestations of utmost tenderness had told her that “as soon as -cash would allow,” he would send for her to join him, and marry her -out there,--and for this happy consummation she had waited, lovingly -and loyally, seven years. Meanwhile his letters grew shorter and -fewer,--till at last, when his father died and he came into a large -fortune, he struck the final blow on the patient life that had been -sacrificed to his humour. He wrote a last letter, telling her he was -married,--and so everything of hope and promise fell away from her like -the falling leaves of a withering flower, though her friend, Sophy -Lansing, in hot indignation at the callous way in which she had been -treated, advised her to “take on another man at once.” But poor Diana -could not do this. Hers was a loyal and tender spirit,--she was unable -to transfer her affections from one to another _au grand galop_. She -thought of it all now in a half amused way, as she sat in her easy -chair by the sparkling fire, in the charming room which she could for -the present call her own, surrounded by every comfort and luxury, and -she looked at her ringless hand,--that small, daintily-shaped hand, on -which for so many wasted years her lover’s engagement ring had sparkled -as a sign of constancy. Poor little hand!--it was shown off with effect -at the moment, lying with a passive prettiness on the roseate silk of -her “boudoir wrap”--as white as the white fur which just peeped beneath -the palm. Suddenly she clenched it. - -“I should like to punish him!” she said. “It may be small--it may be -spiteful--but it is human! I should like to see him suffer for his -treachery! I should have no pity on him or his fat wife!” Here she -laughed at herself. “How absurd I am!” she went on--“making ‘much -ado about nothing!’ The fat wife herself is a punishment for him, I’m -sure! He’s rich, and has a big house in Mayfair and five very ugly -children,--_that_ ought to be enough for him! I saw his wife by chance -at a bazaar quite lately--like a moving jelly!--rather like poor mother -in the fit of her clothes,--and smiling the ghastly smile of that -placid, ineffable content which marks the fool! If I could do nothing -else I’d like to disturb that smug, self-satisfied constitution of -oozing oil!--yes, I would!--and who knows if I mayn’t do it yet!” - -She rose, and the antique book “Of Delusions” fell to the floor. Her -slim figure, loosely draped in the folds of crimson silk and white -fur, looked wonderfully graceful and well-poised, and had there been -a mirror in the sitting-room, as there was in the bedroom, she might -possibly have seen something in her appearance worthy of even men’s -admiration. But her thoughts were far away from herself,--she had -before her eyes the picture of her old lover grown slightly broader and -heavier in build, with ugly furrows of commonplace care engraven on -his once smooth and handsome face,--“hen-pecked” probably by his stout -better-half and submitting to this frequently inevitable fate with -a more or less ill grace, and again she laughed,--a laugh of purest -unforced merriment. - -“Here I am, like Hamlet, ‘exceeding proud and revengeful,’ and after -all I ought to be devoutly thankful!” she said. “For, if I analyse -myself honestly, I do not really consider I have lost anything in -losing a man who would certainly have been an unfaithful husband. What -I _do_ feel is the slight on myself! That he should have callously -allowed me to wait all those years for him, and _then_--have cast -me aside like an old shoe, is an injury which I think I may justly -resent--and which,--if I ever get the chance--I may punish!” Here her -brows clouded, and she sighed. “What an impossible idea! I talk as if I -were young, with all the world before me!--and with power to realise my -dreams!--when really everything of that sort is over for me, and I have -only to see how I can best live out the remainder of life!” - -Then like a faint whisper stealing through the silence, came the words -which Dimitrius had spoken on the first night of her arrival--that -night when the moonlight had drenched the garden in a shower of pearl -and silver,--“_What would you give to be young?_” - -A thrill ran through her nerves as though they had been played upon -by an electric vibration. Had Dimitrius any such secret as that which -he hinted at?--or was he only deluding himself, and was his brain, -by over much study, slipping off the balance? She had heard of the -wisest scientists who, after astonishing the world by the brilliancy of -their researches and discoveries, had suddenly sunk from their lofty -pinnacles of attained knowledge to the depth of consulting “mediums,” -who pretended to bring back the spirits of the dead that they might -converse with their relatives and friends in bad grammar and worse -logic,--might not Dimitrius be just as unfortunate in his own special -“scientific” line? - -Tired at last of thinking, she resolved to go to bed, and in her -sleeping chamber, she found herself facing the long mirror again. -Something she saw there this time appeared really to startle her, for -she turned abruptly away from it, threw off her wrap, slipped into her -night-gown, and brushed her hair hastily without looking at herself for -another second. And kneeling at her bedside as she said her prayers she -included an extra petition, uttered in a strangely earnest whisper: - -“From all delusions of vanity, self-love and proud thinking, good Lord, -deliver me!” - -The next morning she awoke, filled and fired with a new resolve. She -had slept well and was strong in energy and spirit, and she determined, -as she expressed it to herself, to “have it out” with Dr. Dimitrius. So -after breakfast, when he was about to go to his laboratory as usual, -she stopped him on the way. - -“I want to speak to you,” she said. “Please give me a few moments of -your time.” - -“Now?” he queried, with a slight uplifting of his eyebrows. - -She bent her head. - -“Now!” - -“In the library, then,” he said, and thither they went together. - -On entering the room he closed the door behind them and stood looking -at her somewhat quizzically. - -“Well?” - -“Well!” she echoed, slightly smiling. “Are you wondering what I want to -say? You ought not to wonder at all,--you ought to know!” - -“I know nothing!” he answered--“I may guess--but guessing is risky. I -prefer to hear.” - -“So you _shall_ hear,”--and she drew a little closer to him--“If I -express myself foolishly you must tell me,--if you think me officious -or over-bold, you must reprove me--there is only one thing I will not -bear from you, and that is, want of confidence!” - -He looked at her in something of surprise. - -“Want of confidence? My dear Miss Diana, you surely cannot complain on -that score! I have trusted you more than I have ever trusted any man or -any woman----” - -“Yes,” she interrupted him, quickly--“I know that wherever it is -absolutely necessary to trust me you have done so. But where you think -it is _un_-necessary, you have not. For example--why don’t you tell me -just straight what you mean to do with me?” - -His dark, lustrous eyes flashed up under their drooping lids. - -“What I mean to do with you?” he repeated--“Why what do you imagine----” - -“I imagine nothing,” she answered, quietly. “The things you teach are -beyond all imagination! But see!--I have signed myself and my services -away to you for a certain time, and as you have yourself said, you did -not engage me merely to copy old Latin script. What you really want of -me is, as I begin to understand, just what the vivisector wants with -the animal he experiments upon. If this is so, I offer no opposition. I -am not afraid of death--for I am out of love with life. But I want to -know your aims--I want to understand the actual thing you are striving -for. I shall be better able to help you if I know. You put me through -one test yesterday--you saw for yourself that I had no fear of the -death or life properties of the thing I took from your hand without -any hesitation--I have not even spoken of the amazing and terrifying -sensations it gave me--I am ready to take it again at any moment. You -have a willing servant in me--but, as I say, I feel I could help you -more if I knew the ultimate end for which you work,--and you must trust -me!” - -He listened attentively to every word,--charmed with the silvery -softness of her voice and its earnest yet delicate inflections. - -“I _do_ trust you!” he said, when she had ceased speaking. “If I did -not, you would not be here a day. I trusted you from the moment I saw -you. If I had not, I should never have engaged you. So be satisfied on -that score. For the rest--well!--I confess I have hesitated to tell you -more than (as you put it) seemed necessary for you to know,--the old -fear and the narrow miscomprehension of woman is still inherent in me, -as in all of my sex, though I do my best to eliminate it,--and I have -thought that perhaps if I told you all my intentions with regard to -yourself, you might, at the crucial moment, shrink back and fail me----” - -“When I shrink from anything you wish me to do, or fail in my -undertaking to serve you loyally, I give you leave to finish me off in -any way you please!” she said, calmly--“and without warning!” - -He smiled--but his eyes were sombre with thought. - -“Sit down,” he said, and signed to her to take a chair near the window. -“I will tell you as much as I can--as much as I myself know. It is -briefly said.” - -He watched her closely, as, in obedience to his wish, she seated -herself, and he noted the new and ardent brilliance in her eyes which -gave them a look of youthful and eager vitality. Then he drew up -another chair and sat opposite to her. Outside the window the garden -had a wintry aspect--the flowerbeds were empty,--the trees were -leafless, and the summits of the distant Alps peered white and sharp -above a thick, fleece-like fog which stretched below. - -“You say you are out of love with life,” he began. “And this, only -because you have been spared the common lot of women--the so-called -‘love’ which would have tied you to one man to be the drudge of -his coarse passions till death. Well!--I admit it is the usual -sort of thing life offers to the female sex,--but to be ‘out of -love’ with the stupendous and beautiful work of God because this -commonest of commonplace destinies has been denied you, is--pardon my -_brusquerie_,--mere folly and unreasoning sentiment. However, I am -taking you at your word,--you are ‘out of love’ with life, and you are -not afraid of death. Therefore, to me you are not a woman--you are -a ‘subject’:--you put it very clearly just now when you said that I -need you as the vivisector needs the animal he experiments upon--that -is perfectly correct. I repeat, that for my purpose, you are not a -woman,--you are simply an electric battery.” - -She looked up, amazed--then laughed as gaily as a child. - -“An electric battery!” she echoed. “Oh, dear, oh, dear! I have imagined -myself as many things, but never _that_!” - -“And yet that is what you really _are_,” he said, unmoved by her -laughter. “It is what we all are, men and women alike. Our being is -composed of millions of cells, charged with an electric current which -emanates from purely material sources. We make electricity to light -our houses with--and when the battery is dry we say the cells need -recharging--a simple matter. Youth was the light of _your_ house of -clay--but the cells of the battery are dry--they must be recharged!” - -She sat silent for a moment, gazing at him as though seeking to read -his inmost thought. His dark, fine eyes met hers without flinching. - -“And you,--you propose to recharge them?” she said, slowly and -wonderingly. - -“I not only propose to do it--I have already begun the work!” he -answered. “You want me to be straightforward--come, then!--give me -the same confidence! Can you honestly say you _see_ no difference and -_feel_ no difference in yourself since yesterday?” - -She gave a quick sigh. - -“No, I cannot!” she replied. “I _do_ see and feel a change in myself! -This morning I was almost terrified at the sense of happiness which -possessed me!--happiness for nothing but just the joy of living!--it -overwhelmed me like a wave!” She stretched out her arms with a gesture -of indefinable yearning--“Oh, it seemed as if I had all the world in my -hands!--the light, the air, the mere facts of breathing and moving were -sufficient to make me content!--and I was overcome by the fear of my -own joy! That is why I determined to ask you plainly what it means, and -what I am to expect from you!” - -“If all goes well you may expect such gifts as only the gods of old -time were able to give!” he said, in thrilling accents,--“Those poor -gods! They represented the powers that have since been put into man’s -hands,--their day is done! Now, listen!--I have told you that I have -commenced my work upon you,--and you are now the centre of my supreme -interest. You are precisely the ‘subject’ I need,--for, understand -me well!--if you had led a ‘rackety’ life, such as our modern women -do--if you had been obsessed by rabid passions, hysterical sentiments, -greedy sensualities or disordered health, you would have been no use -to me. Your ‘cells,’ speaking of you as a battery, would, under such -conditions, have been worn out, and in a worn-out state could not have -been recharged. The actual renewal, or perpetual germination of cells -is a possibility of future science,--but up to the present we have -not arrived at the right solution of the problem. Now, perhaps, you -understand why I was to some extent startled when you took that first -‘charge’ from my hand yesterday,--it was a strong and a dangerous -test,--for if one or any of your ‘cells’ had been in a broken or -diseased state it might have killed you instantly--as instantly as by a -flash of lightning----” - -“And if it had,” interrupted Diana, with a smile--“what would you have -done?” - -“I should have disposed of your remains,” he answered, coolly. “And I -should have arranged things so that no one would have been any the -wiser--not even my mother.” - -She laughed. - -“You really are a first-class scientist!” she said. “No pity--no -remorse--no regret----!” - -His eyes flashed up in a sort of defiance. - -“Who could feel pity, remorse, or regret for the fate of one miserable -unit,” he exclaimed--“one atom among millions, sacrificed in the -pursuit of a glorious discovery that may fill with hope and renewed -power the whole of the human race! Tens of thousands of men are slain -in war and the useless holocaust is called a ‘Roll of Honour,’ but if -one superfluous woman were killed in the aid of science it would be -called murder! Senseless hypocrisy!--The only thing to regret would -be failure! Failure to achieve result,--horrible! But success!--what -matter if a hundred thousand women perished, so long as we possess the -Flaming Sword!” - -He spoke with an almost wild excitation, and Diana began to think he -must be mad. Mad with a dream of science,--mad with the overpowering -force and flow of ideas too vast for the human brain! - -“Why,” she asked, in purposely cold and even tones--“have you chosen a -woman as your ‘subject’? Why not a man?” - -“A man would attempt to become my rival,” he answered at once. “And he -would not submit to coercion without a struggle. It is woman’s nature -instinctively to bend under the male influence,--one cannot controvert -natural law. Woman does not _naturally_ resist; she yields. I told you -I wanted obedience and loyalty from you,--I knew you would give them. -You have done so, and now that you partially know my aims I know you -will do so still.” - -“I shall not fail you,” said Diana, quietly. “But,--if I may know as -much,--suppose you succeed in your idea of recharging the ‘cells’ -which make up Me, what will be the result to Myself?” - -“The result to yourself?” he repeated. “Little can you imagine -it!--little will you believe it even if I attempt to describe it! What -will it mean to you, I wonder, to feel the warmth and vigour of early -youth once more tingling in your veins?--the elasticity and suppleness -of youth in your limbs?--to watch the delicate and heavenly magic of a -perfect beauty transfiguring your face to such fairness that it shall -enchant all beholders!----” - -“Stop,--stop!” cried Diana, almost angrily, springing up from her chair -and putting her hands to her ears. “This is mere folly, Dr. Dimitrius! -You talk wildly,--and unreasonably! You must be mad!” - -“Of course I am mad!” he answered, rising at the same moment and -confronting her--“As mad as all original discoverers are! As mad as -Galileo, Newton, George Stephenson or Madame Curie! And I am one with -them in the madness that makes for a world’s higher sanity! Come, look -at me!” and he took both her hands firmly in his own--“Honestly, can -you say I am mad?” - -His eyes, dark and luminous, were steadfast and frank as the eyes of -a faithful animal,--his expression serious,--even noble. As she met -his calm gaze the colour flushed her cheeks suddenly, then as quickly -faded, leaving her very pale. - -“No--I cannot!” she said, swiftly and humbly. “Forgive me! But you deal -with the impossible!” - -He loosened her hands. - -“Nothing is impossible!” he said. “Whatsoever the brain of a man -conceives in thought can be born in deed. Otherwise there would be -a flaw in the mathematics of the Universe, which is a thing utterly -inconceivable.” He paused,--then went on. “I have told you all that you -wished to know. Are you satisfied?” - -She looked at him, and a faint smile lifted the corners of her mouth. - -“If you are satisfied, I am,” she replied. “What I seem to understand -is this,--if you succeed in your experiment I shall feel and look -younger than I do now,--we will leave the ‘beauty’ part out of it,--and -if you fail, the ‘cells’ you have begun to charge with your mysterious -compound, will disintegrate, and there’ll be an end of me?” - -“You have put the case with perfect accuracy,” he said. “That is so.” - -“Very well! I am prepared!”--and she went to the table desk where she -usually worked--“and now I’ll go on deciphering Latin script.” - -She seated herself, and, turning over the papers she had left, began to -write. - -An odd sense of compunction came over him as he looked at her and -realised her courage, patience, and entire submission to his will, and -yet--his careful and vigilant eye noted the improved outlines of cheek -and chin, the delicate, almost imperceptible softening of the lately -thin and angular profile,--and the foretaste of a coming scientific -triumph was stronger in him than any other human feeling. Nevertheless -she was a woman, and---- - -Moved by a sudden impulse, he approached and bent over her as she -worked. - -“Diana,” he said, very softly and kindly--“you will forgive me if I -have seemed to you callous, or cruel?” - -Her heart beat quickly--she was annoyed with herself at the nervous -tremor which ran through her from head to foot. - -“I have nothing to forgive,” she answered, simply--“I am your paid -‘subject,’--not a woman at all in your eyes. And being so, I am content -to live--or die--in your service.” - -He hesitated another moment,--then possessing himself of the small -hand that moved steadily across the paper on which she was writing, he -dexterously drew the pen from it and raised it to his lips with a grave -and courteous gentleness. Then, releasing it, without look or word he -went from the room, treading softly, and closing the door behind him. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -So she knew! She knew that, as usual, she was, personally, a valueless -commodity. So far as herself, her own life and feelings were concerned, -her fate continued to follow her--no one was kindly or vitally -interested in her,--she was just a “subject” for experiment. She had -suspected this all along--yet now that she had heard the fact stated -coldly and dispassionately, she was more or less resentful. She waited -a few minutes, her heart beating quickly and the vexed blood rising -to her brows and making her cheeks burn,--waited till she was sure -Dimitrius would not re-enter,--then, suddenly flinging down her pen, -she rose and paced the room hurriedly to and fro, scarce knowing -what she did. Was it not hard,--hard! she said to herself, with an -involuntary clenching of her hands as she walked up and down, that she -should never be considered more than a passive “thing” to be used for -other folks’ advantage or convenience? How had it happened that no one -in all the world had ever thought of putting himself (or herself) to -“use” for _Her_ sake! The calm calculations of Féodor Dimitrius on her -possible death under his treatment had (though she would not admit it -to herself) inwardly hurt her. Yet, after all, what had she any right -to expect? She had answered a strange, very strange advertisement, and -through that action had come into association with the personality of -a more than strange man of whose character and reputation she knew -little or nothing. And, so far, she had “fallen on her feet,”--that -is to say, she had secured a comfortable home and handsome competence -for the services she had pledged herself to render. Then, as she had -taken the whole thing on trust had she any cause to complain of the -nature of those services? No!--and in truth she did not complain,--she -only _felt_--felt, to the core of her soul the callous indifference -which Dimitrius had plainly expressed as to her fate in the dangerous -“experiment” he had already commenced upon her. Hot tears sprang to her -eyes,--she struggled with them, ashamed and humiliated. - -“Children and girls cry!” she said, with self-contempt. “I, being -a woman ‘of mature years,’ ought to know better! But, oh, it is -hard!--hard!” - -Her thoughts flew to Madame Dimitrius,--had she followed her first -feminine impulse, she would have run to that kind old lady and asked -for a little pity, sympathy and affection!--but she knew such an act -would seem weak and absurd. Still walking up and down, her steps -gradually became more measured and even,--with one hand against her -eyes, she pressed away the tear drops that hung on her lashes--then, -pausing, looked again, as she so often looked at the never stopping -steel instrument that struck off its little fiery sparks with an almost -wearisome exactitude and monotony. Stretching out her hand, she tried -to catch one of the flying dots of flame as one would catch a midge or -a moth,--she at last succeeded, and the glowing mote shone on her open -palm like a ruby for about half a minute--then vanished, leaving no -trace but a slight tingling sensation on the flesh it had touched. - -“A mystery!” she said--“as involved and difficult to understand as my -‘master’ himself!” - -She looked through the window at the grey-cold winter landscape, and -let her eyes travel along the distant peaks of the Alpine ranges, where -just now the faintest gleam of sunshine fell. The world,--the natural -world--was beautiful!--but how much more beautiful it would seem if -one had the full heart and vigour to enjoy its beauty! If, with youth -to buoy up the senses, one had the trained eye and mind to perceive -and appreciate the lovely things of life!--could one ask for greater -happiness? - -“When we are quite young we hardly see Nature,” she mused. “It is only -in later years that we begin to find out how much we have missed. Now, -if I, with my love of beauty, were young----” - -Here her meditations came to an abrupt halt. Had not Dimitrius -promised that if he succeeded in his experiment, youth would be hers -again?--youth, united to experience?--but would that be a desirable -result? She wondered. - -“The old, old story!” she sighed. “The old legend of Faust and the -devil!--the thirst of mankind for a longer extension of youth and -life!--only, in my case, I have not asked for these things, nor have I -tried to summon up the devil. I am just an unwanted woman,--unwanted so -far as the world is concerned, but useful just now as a ‘subject’ for -the recharging of cells!” - -She gave a half weary, half scornful gesture, and resumed her work, -and for an hour or more sat patiently translating and writing. But her -thoughts were rebels and went breaking into all manner of unfamiliar -places,--moreover, she herself felt more or less rebellious and -disposed to fight against destiny. At midday the sun, which had been -teasing the earth with shy glimpses of glory all the morning, shone out -superbly, and set such a coronal of light on her hair as she sat at her -desk, that if she could have seen herself she might have been flattered -at the effect. But she was only conscious of the brightness that filled -the room--a brightness that equally took possession of her mind and -filled her with cheerfulness. She even allowed herself a little run -into the realms of fancy. - -“Suppose that he _should_ succeed in his perfectly impossible task,” -she said. “I,--his ‘subject’--shall have him in my power! I never -thought of that! Yet it’s worth thinking about! I shall have given him -the triumph of his life! He will set some value upon me then,--and -he’ll never be able to forget me! More than that, according to his -own assertion, I shall be young!--and he spoke of beauty too!--all -nonsense, of course--but if!--if!--if he makes _me_ the crowning -success of all his studies, I shall hold him in the hollow of my hand!” - -Stimulated by this thought, she sprang up and stood proudly erect, a -smile on her lips and radiance in her eyes. - -“With all his learning, his calculations and his cold-blooded -science,--yes--I shall hold him in the hollow of my hand!” - -Recalling herself to her duties, she put all her papers and writing -materials neatly away in order for the next morning’s work, and leaving -the library, went out in the garden for a turn in the fresh air before -luncheon. The noonday sunshine was at the full, and her whole being -responded to its warmth and brightness. A new outlook had presented -itself to her view, and all hesitation, vexation, fear and depression -vanished like a mist blown aside by the wind. She was entirely resolved -now to go through with whatsoever strange ordeals Dimitrius might -ordain, no matter how much physical or mental suffering she might have -to endure. - -“The die is cast!” she said, gaily--addressing herself to a group of -pine trees stiff with frost--“I’m all for youth and beauty!--or--Death! -On, on, Diana!” - -That afternoon she went off for a walk by herself as it was frequently -her custom to do. She was allowed perfect freedom of action after the -morning working hours,--she could go and come as she liked,--and -both Dr. Dimitrius and his mother made it plainly evident that they -trusted her implicitly. She avoided Geneva--she instinctively felt -that it would be wiser not to be seen there, as the people of the -hotel where she had stayed might recognise her. One of her favourite -walks was along the Mornex road to a quaint little villa occupied -by Professor Chauvet. This somewhat grim and ironical man of much -learning had taken a great fancy to her, and she always made herself -charming in his company, partly out of real liking for him and partly -out of compassion for his loneliness. For, apparently, he had no one -in the world to care whether he lived or died, the only person to -attend upon him being a wrinkled, toothless old woman from the Canton -Grisons, whose cooking was execrable, while her excessive cleanliness -was beyond reproach. Diana loved to hear the Professor’s half-cynical, -half-kindly talk,--she laughingly encouraged him to “lay down the law,” -as he delighted to do, on all things human and divine, and she was -never tired of turning over his really unique and wonderful collection -of unset gems, of which he had enough to excite the cupidity of any -American wife of a millionaire,--enough certainly to make him rich, -though he lived in the style of an exceedingly poor man. - -“You have the saddest fire I ever saw!” she said, on this particular -afternoon, as she entered his study without warning, as she was now -quite accustomed to do, and found him sitting absorbed over a book, -regardless of the smouldering wood in the grate which threatened to -become altogether extinguished. “Let me make it cheerful for you!” - -She set to work, while he pushed his spectacles up from his eyes to his -forehead and regarded her with unassisted vision. - -“What have you been doing to yourself?” he asked, then. “Are you sure -you are quite well?” - -She looked up from the logs she was piling dexterously together, -surprised and smiling. - -“Quite well? Of course I am! Never felt better! Do I look ill?” - -Professor Chauvet got up and stretched his legs. - -“Not ill,” he replied,--“No,--but feverish! Singularly so! Eyes too -bright--lips too red,--spiteful women would say you had put belladonna -in the one and carmine on the other! Let me feel your pulse!” - -She laughed, and gave him her hand. He pressed his fingers on the cool, -firm wrist. - -“No--nothing the matter there!” he said, wrinkling his fuzzy brows in a -puzzled line. “It is the pulse of youth and strong heart action. Well! -What is it?” - -“What is _what_?” queried Diana, merrily, as she settled the logs to -her satisfaction, and kindled them into sparkling flame. “I know of -nothing in myself that is, or isn’t!” - -He smiled a wry smile. - -“There you express the sum and substance of all philosophy!” he said. -“Plato himself could go no further! All the same, there’s an _IS_ about -you that _WASN’T_! What do you make of _that_? And if you haven’t been -doing anything to yourself what has our friend Féodor Dimitrius been -doing to you?” - -The question, though put suddenly, did not throw her off her guard. She -met it with clear, upraised eyes and a look of wonder. - -“Why, what on earth should he do?” she asked, lightly. “He’s giving me -quite a pleasant time in Switzerland--that’s all!” - -“Oh! That’s all, eh?” repeated Chauvet, baffled for the moment. “Well, -I’m glad you are having a pleasant time. Judging by your looks, -Switzerland agrees with you. But Dimitrius is a queer fellow. It’s no -use falling in love with him, you know!” - -She laughed very merrily. - -“My dear Professor! You talk as if I were a girl, likely to ‘moon’ and -sentimentalise over the first man that comes in my way! I’m not young -enough for that sort of thing.” - -The Professor stuck his hands deep in his pockets and appeared to -meditate. - -“No--perhaps not,” he said. “But experience has taught me that people -fall in love at the most unexpected ages. I have seen a child of -four,--a girl,--coquetting with a boy of seven,--and I have also seen -an old gentleman of seventy odd making himself exceedingly unpleasant -by his too rabid admiration of a married lady of forty. These things -_will_ occur!” - -“But that’s not love!” laughed Diana, seating herself in a deep easy -chair opposite to him. “Come, come, Professor! You know it isn’t! It’s -nonsense!--and in the case of the old gentleman, very distressing -nonsense! Now, show me that jewel you spoke of the other day--one that -I’ve never seen--it’s called the Eye of something or somebody----” - -“The Eye of Rajuna,” said Chauvet, solemnly, “a jewel with the history -of a perished world behind it. Now, Miss May, you must not look at this -remarkable stone in a spirit of trifling--it carries, compressed within -its lustre, the soul’s despair of a great Queen!” - -He paused, as if thinking,--then went to an iron-bound safe which stood -in one corner of the room, and unlocked it. Fumbling for a minute or -two in its interior recesses, he presently produced a curious case -made of rough hide and fastened with a band of gold. Opening it, a -sudden flash of light sparkled from within--and Diana raised herself -in her chair to look, with a little exclamation of wonderment. The -extraordinary brilliancy of the jewel disclosed was like nothing she -had ever seen--the stone appeared to be of a deep rose colour, but in -its centre there was a moving point, as of blood-red liquid. This -floating drop glittered with an unearthly lustre, and now and again -seemed to emit rays as of living light. - -“What a marvellous gem!” Diana murmured. “And how beautiful! What do -you call it?--a ruby or a coloured diamond?” - -“Neither,” answered Chauvet. “It does not belong to any class of -known gems. It is the ‘Eye of Rajuna’--and in ages past it was set in -the centre of the forehead of the statue of an Assyrian queen. She -was a strange person in her day--of strong and imperious primitive -passions,--and she had rather a violent way of revenging herself for a -wrong. She had a lover--all good-looking queens have lovers--it is only -the ugly ones who are virtuous--and he grew tired of her in due course, -as lovers generally tire----” - -“Do they?” put in Diana. - -“Of course they do! That’s why the bond of marriage was invented--to -tie a man fast up to family duties so that he should not wander where -he listeth--though he wanders just as much--but marriage is the only -safeguard for his children. Rajuna, the Queen, however, did not approve -of her lover’s wandering--and being, in her day, a great ruler, she -could of course do as she liked with him. So she had him brought before -her in chains, and slowly hacked to pieces in her presence--a little -bit here and a little bit there, keeping him alive as long as possible -so that he might see himself cut up--and finally when the psychological -moment came, she had herself robed and crowned in full imperial style, -and, taking a sharp knife in her own fair hands, cut out his heart -_herself_ and threw it to her dogs in the palace courtyard below! This -was one of the many jewels she wore on that historic occasion!--and it -was afterwards placed in the forehead of the statue which her people -erected to the memory of their ‘good and great Queen Rajuna!’” - -Diana listened with fascinated interest--her eyes fastened on the weird -jewel, and her whole expression one of complete absorption in the -horror of the story she had heard. She was silent so long that Chauvet -grew impatient. - -“Well! What do you think of it all?” he demanded. - -“I think she--that Assyrian queen--was quite right!” she answered, -slowly. “She gave her false lover, physically, what he had given her -morally. He had hacked _her_ to pieces,--bit by bit!--he had taken her -ideals, her hopes and confidences, and cut them all to shreds--and he -had torn _her_ heart out from its place! Yes!--she was quite right!--a -traitor deserves a traitor’s death!--I would have done the same myself!” - -He stared and glowered frowningly. - -“You? _You_,--a gentle Englishwoman?--you would have done the same?” - -She took the jewel from its case and held it up to the light, its red -brilliance making her slender fingers rosy-tipped. - -“Yes, I would!” and she smiled strangely. “I think women are all made -in much the same mould, whether English or Assyrian! There is nothing -they resent so deeply as treachery in love.” - -“Yet they are treacherous themselves pretty often!” said the Professor. - -“When they are they are not real women,” declared Diana. “They are -pussy-cats,--toys! A true woman loves once and loves always!” - -He looked at her askance. - -“I think you have been bitten, my dear lady!” he said. “Your eloquence -is the result of sad experience!” - -“You are right!” she answered, quietly, still holding the “Eye of -Rajuna” and dangling it against the light. “Perfectly so! I have been -‘bitten’ as you put it--but--it is long ago.” - -“Yet you cherish the idea of vengeance?” - -She laughed a little. - -“I don’t know! I cannot say! But when one has had life spoilt for one -all undeservedly, one _may_ wish to see the spoiler morally ‘hung, -drawn and quartered’ in a sort of good old Tudor way! Yet my story is -quite a common one,--I was engaged to a man who threw me over after I -had waited for him seven years--lots of women could tell the same tale, -I dare say!--he’s married, and has a very fat wife and five hideous -children----” - -“And are you not sufficiently avenged?” exclaimed Chauvet, -melodramatically, with uplifted hands. “A fat wife and five hideous -children! Surely far worse than the Eye of Rajuna!” - -Her face was clear and radiant now as she put the jewel back in its -case. - -“Yes, possibly! But I sometimes fancy I should like to make sure that -it _is_ worse! I’m wickedly human enough to wish to see him suffer!” - -“And yet he’s not worth such an expenditure of nerve force!” said -Chauvet, smiling kindly. “Why not spare yourself for somebody else?” - -She looked at him with something of pathos in her eyes. - -“Somebody else? My dear Professor, there’s not a soul in all the world -that cares for me!” - -“You are wrong,--_I_ care!” he replied, with an emphasis that startled -her--“I care so much that I’ll marry you to-morrow if you’ll have me!” - -She was so amazed that for the moment she could not speak. He, -perfectly calm and collected, continued with a kind of oratorical -fervour: - -“I will marry you, I say! I find you charming and intelligent. Charm -in woman is common--intelligence is rare. You are a happy combination -of the two. You are not a girl--neither am I a boy. But if you take -me, you will not take a poor man. I am rich--much richer than anybody -knows. I have become interested in you--more than this, I have grown -fond of you. I would try my best--for the rest of my life--which cannot -be very long--to make you happy. I would give you a pretty house in -Paris--and all the luxuries which dainty women appreciate. And I -promise I would not bore you. And at my death I would leave you all I -possess--even the ‘Eye of Rajuna!’ Stop now, before you speak! Think -it over! I wish to give you plenty of time”--here his voice trembled a -little--“for it will be a great blow--yes, a very great blow to me if -you refuse!” - -Taken by surprise as she was, Diana could not but appreciate the quiet -and chivalrous manner of the Professor, as after having made his -declaration and proposal, he stood “at attention” as it were, waiting -for her first word. - -She rose from her chair and laid one hand on his arm. - -“Dear Professor----” she began, hesitatingly. - -“Yes--that’s good!” he said. “‘Dear Professor’ is very good! And after -that, what next?” - -“After that, just this,” said Diana. “That I thank you for your kind -and generous offer with all my heart! Still more do I thank you for -saying you have grown fond of me! Nobody has said that for years! But -I will not do you such wrong as to take advantage of your goodness to -a woman you know nothing of--not, at any rate, till you know something -more! And,--to be quite honest with you--I don’t think I have it in my -heart to love any man now!” - -The Professor took the hand that rested on his arm and patted it -encouragingly. - -“My dear lady, I am not asking for love!” he said. “I would not do such -an absurd thing for the world! Love is the greatest delusion of the -ages,--one of the ‘springes to catch woodcocks,’ as your Shakespeare -says. I don’t want it,--I never had it, and don’t expect it. I merely -ask for permission to take care of you and make you as happy as I can -for the rest of my life. I should like to do that!--I should indeed! -The stupid and conventional world will not allow me to do it without -scandal, unless I marry you--therefore I ask you to go through this -form with me. I would not be selfish,--I would respect you in every -way----” - -He broke off--and to close an embarrassing sentence gently kissed the -hand he held. - -Tears stood in Diana’s eyes. - -“Oh, you are good, you are good!” she murmured. “And I feel so -ungrateful because I cannot please you by at once saying ‘yes!’ But I -should feel worse than ungrateful if I did--because it would be unfair -to you!--it would, really! And yet----” - -“Don’t say an absolute ‘No,’ my dear!” interrupted the Professor, -hastily. “Take time! I’ll give you as long as you like--and live in -hope!” - -She smiled, though her eyes were wet. Her thoughts were all in a whirl. -How had it chanced that she, so long content to be considered “an -old maid,” should now receive an offer of marriage? Had she a right -to refuse it? Professor Chauvet was a distinguished man of science, -well known in Paris; his wife would occupy a position of dignity and -distinction. Her _salon_ would be filled with men of mark and women -of high social standing. And he “had grown fond of her” he said. That -was the best and most wonderful thing of all! That anyone should be -“fond” of her seemed to poor, lonely Diana the opening of the gates of -Paradise. - -“May I--may I----” she faltered, presently. - -“You may do anything!” replied Chauvet, soothingly. “You may even box -my ears, if it will relieve your feelings!” - -She laughed, and looked up at him. It was a kind, rugged, clever face -she saw--plain, but shrewd, and though marked like a map with lines of -thought and care, not without character and impressiveness. - -“I was rude to you the first night we met!” she said, irrelevantly. - -“So was I to you,” he responded. “And you got the better of me. That’s -probably why I like you!” - -She hesitated again. Then: - -“May I wait----” - -“Of course!” he said. “Any time! Not too long--I want to settle it -before I die!” - -“Will it do when I have finished my visit to Madame Dimitrius?” she -asked. “She wishes me to stay with her for some months--she likes my -company----” - -“I should think she does!” interposed Chauvet. “So should I!” - -She laughed again. - -“You really are very nice!” she said. “You ought to have married long -ago!” - -“That’s neither here nor there,” he answered. “I’m glad I didn’t--I -might have had a fat wife and five hideous children, like your old -lover--and my life wouldn’t have been worth a _sou_!” - -“Wouldn’t it?” She was quite playful by this time, and taking a knot of -violets from her own dress, pinned them in his buttonhole, much to his -delight. - -“Of course not! With a fat wife and five children what would have -become of my work? I should never have done anything. As it is the -world may have to thank me for a few useful discoveries,--though I dare -say it will have to thank Féodor Dimitrius more.” - -Her heart gave a quick throb. - -“Do you think him very clever?” she asked. - -“Clever? Clever as the devil! There never was such a man for bold -experiment! I wonder he hasn’t killed himself before now with his -exploits in chemistry. However, let us keep to the point. As I -understand it, you give me a little hope. You will not say ‘yes’ or -‘no’ till your time with Madame Dimitrius is expired--till your visit -to the Château Fragonard is ended. Is that so?” - -She bent her head. - -“And may I walk on air--buoyed up by hope--till then?” - -She looked a little troubled. - -“Dear Professor, I cannot promise anything!” she said. “You see I am -taken altogether by surprise--and--and gratitude--give me time to -think!” - -“I will!” he said, kindly. “And meanwhile, we will keep our own -confidence--and the subject shall be closed till you yourself -reopen it. There! You can rely upon me. But think it all over well, -reasonably, and clearly--a husband who would care much for you, ten -thousand a year, a house in Paris and every comfort and luxury you -could wish for is not an absolutely melancholy prospect! Bless you, my -dear! And now I’ll lock up the ‘Eye of Rajuna’--it has looked upon us -and has seen nothing of falsehood or treachery to warrant the shedding -of blood!” - -He moved away from her to place the jewel in his safe, and as he did -so, said: - -“I have an aqua-marine here which is the colour of a Sicilian sea in -full summer--and I should like to give it to you now,--I intend it for -you--but the hawk eye of Dimitrius would notice it if you wore it, -and you would suffer the cross-examination of a Torquemada! However, -you shall have it very soon--as soon as I can invent a little fable -to give cover to its presentation. And,--let me see!----” here he -turned round, smiling.--“Well, upon my word, you have made up the fire -capitally! Quite bright and cheery!--and full of hope!” - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -That evening Diana for the first time saw Dimitrius in a somewhat -irritable mood. He was sharp and peremptory of speech and impatient in -manner. - -“Where have you been all the afternoon?” he demanded, at dinner, fixing -his eyes upon her with a piercing intensity. - -“With Professor Chauvet,” she answered. “I wanted to see a famous -Assyrian jewel he has--it is called ‘The Eye of Rajuna.’” - -Dimitrius shrugged his shoulders. - -“And you are interested in that kind of thing?” he queried, with a -touch of disdain. “A stolen gem, and therefore an unlucky one--‘looted’ -by a French officer from the forehead of a mutilated statue somewhere -in the East. It’s not a thing I should care to have.” - -“Nor I,” agreed Diana, amicably. “But it’s worth seeing.” - -“The Professor is a great authority on precious stones,” said Madame -Dimitrius. “You know, Féodor, you have always credited him with very -exceptional knowledge on the subject.” - -“Of course!” he replied. “But I was not aware that Miss May had any -hankerings after jewels.” - -Diana laughed. She was amused to see him more or less in a kind of -suppressed temper. - -“I haven’t!” she declared, gaily. “It would be no use if I had! -Jewels are, and always have been, beyond my reach. But I like to know -positively from the Professor that they are living things, feeling heat -and cold just as we do, and that some of them shrink from diseased -persons and lose their lustre, and are brilliant and happy with healthy -ones. It is very fascinating!” - -“The Professor is not!” remarked Dimitrius, ironically. - -She raised her eyes, smilingly. - -“No?” - -“He’s a very worthy man,” put in Madame Dimitrius, gently. “And very -distinguished in his way. He’s certainly not handsome.” - -“No men are, nowadays,” said Dimitrius. “The greed of money has written -itself all over human physiognomy. Beauty is at a discount,--there were -never so many downright ugly human beings as there are to-day. The Mark -of the Beast is on every forehead.” - -“I don’t see it anywhere on yours!” said Diana, sweetly. - -A reluctant half-smile brightened his features for a moment,--then he -gave a disdainful gesture. - -“I dare say it’s there all the same!” he replied, shortly. “Or it may -be branded too deeply for you to see!” He paused--and with an abrupt -change of tone, said: “Mother, can you be ready to go to Davos this -week?” - -She looked up, placidly smiling. - -“Certainly! I shall be very glad to go. Diana will like it too, I’m -sure.” - -“Good! Then we’ll start the day after to-morrow. I have engaged rooms. -There are one or two things I must settle before leaving--not very -important.” Here he rose from the table, dinner being concluded, and -addressed Diana. “I want you for a few moments,” he said, rather -peremptorily. “Join me, please, in the laboratory.” - -He left the room. His mother and Diana looked at one another in smiling -perplexity. Diana laughed. - -“He’s cross!” she declared. “_Chère Madame_, he’s cross! It is a -positive miracle! The cool scientist and calm philosopher is in a bit -of a temper!” - -Madame Dimitrius gave a rather regretful and unwilling assent. Truth -to tell, the gentle old lady was more bewildered than satisfied with -certain things that were happening, and which perplexed and puzzled -her. As, for example, when Diana took her arm and affectionately -escorted her from the dining-room to the drawing-room, she could not -refrain from wondering at the singular grace and elegance of the once -plain and angular woman,--she might almost be another person, so -different was she to the one who had arrived at the Château Fragonard -in answer to her son’s advertisement. But she had promised to say -nothing, and she kept her word, though she thought none the less of -the “Flaming Sword” and the terrific problem her son had apparently -determined to solve. Meanwhile, Diana, having settled her cosily by -the fire with her knitting, ran quickly off to obey the command of -Dimitrius. She had never been asked to go near the laboratory since her -first visit there, and she hardly knew how to find the corridor leading -to it. She looked for the negro, Vasho, but though he had waited upon -them at dinner he was now nowhere to be seen. So, trusting to memory -and chance she groped her way down a long passage so dark that she had -to feel the walls on both sides to steady her steps as she went, and -she was beginning to think she had taken an entirely wrong direction, -when a dull, coppery glitter struck a shaft of light through the gloom -and she knew she was near her goal. A few more cautious steps, and -she stood opposite the great door, which glowed mysteriously red and -golden, as though secret fire were mixing living flame with its metal. -It was shut. How could she open it?--or make her presence outside it -known? Recollecting that Vasho had merely laid his hand upon it, she -presently ventured to do the same, and soon had the rather terrifying -satisfaction of seeing the huge portal swing upwards yawningly, -disclosing the interior of the vast dome and the monstrous Wheel. But -what a different scene was now presented to her eyes! When first she -had entered this mysterious “laboratory” it had been in broad daylight, -and the sun had poured its full glory through the over-arching roof -of crystal,--but now it was night and instead of sunshine there was a -cloud of fire! Or, rather, it might be described as a luminous mist -of the deep, rich hue of a damask rose. Through this vaporous veil -could be seen the revolving Wheel, which now had the appearance of a -rainbow circle. Every inch of space was full of the radiant rose haze, -and it was so dazzling and confusing to the sight that for a moment -Diana could not move. With a vague sense of terror she dimly felt that -the door had closed behind her,--but steadying her nerves she waited, -confident that Dimitrius would soon appear. And she was right. He -stepped suddenly out of the rosy mist with a casual air, as if there -were nothing unusual in the surroundings. - -“Well!” he said.--“Courageous as ever?” - -“Is there anything to be afraid of?” she asked. “To me it looks -wonderful!--beautiful!” - -“Yes--it is the essence of all wonder and all beauty,” he answered. “It -is a form of condensed light,--the condensation which, when imprisoned -by natural forces within a mine under certain conditions, gives you -rubies, diamonds and other precious stones. And in the water beneath, -which you cannot see just now, owing to the vapour, there is sufficient -radium to make me ten times a millionaire.” - -“And you will not part with any of it?” - -“I do part with some of it when I find it useful to do so,” he said. -“But very seldom. I am gradually testing its real properties. The -scientists will perhaps be five hundred years at work discussing and -questioning what I may prove in a single day! But I do not wish to -enter upon these matters with you,--you are my ‘subject,’ as you know, -and I want to prepare you. The time has come when you must be ready for -anything----” - -“I am!” she interrupted, quickly. - -“You respond eagerly!”--and he fixed his eyes upon her with a strange, -piercing look. “But that is because you are strong and defiant of fate. -You are beginning to experience that saving vanity which deems itself -indestructible!” - -She made no answer. She lifted her eyes to the highest point of the -slowly turning wheel, and its opaline flare falling through the rose -mist gave her face an unearthly lustre. - -“We are going to Davos Platz,” he continued, “because it will not do -to remain here through the winter. I want the finest, clearest air, -rarefied and purified by the constant presence of ice and snow, to aid -me in my experiment,--moreover, certain changes in you will soon become -too apparent to escape notice, and people will talk. Already Baroness -Rousillon is beginning to ask questions----” - -“About me?” asked Diana, amused. - -“About you. Tell me, have you looked in your mirror lately?” - -“Only just to do my hair,” she answered. “I avoid looking at my own -face as much as possible.” - -“Why?” - -She hesitated. - -“Well! I don’t want to be deluded into imagining myself good-looking -when I’m not.” - -He smiled. - -“Resolute woman! Now listen! From this day forward I shall give you -one measure of what you call my ‘golden fire’ every fortnight. You -have experienced its first effect. What future effects it may have I -cannot tell you. But as the subject of my experiment you must submit -to the test. If you suffer bodily pain or mental confusion from its -action tell me at once, and I will do my best to spare you unnecessary -suffering. You understand?” - -She had grown very pale, even to the lips,--but she answered, quietly: - -“I understand! You have never asked me exactly what I did feel the -first time I took it. I may as well confess now that I thought I was -dying.” - -“You will think so again and yet again,” he said, coolly. “And you -_may_ die! That’s all I have to say about it!” - -She stood immovable, bathed, as it were, in the rosy radiance exhaled -by the slow and now almost solemn movement of the great Wheel. She -thought of the kindliness of Professor Chauvet,--his plain and -unadorned proposal of marriage,--his simple admission that he had -“grown fond” of her,--his offer of his name and position united -to a house in Paris and ten thousand a year!--and contrasted all -this with the deliberate, calculating callousness of the man beside -her, lost to every consideration but the success or failure of his -“experiment,”--and a passionate resentment began to burn in her soul. -But she said nothing. She had rushed upon her own fate,--there was no -way out of it now. - -He moved away from her to unlock the tiny fairy-like shrine, which -concealed the slow dropping of the precious liquid mysteriously -distilled by the unknown process which apparently involved so much -vast mechanism, and, placing a small phial under the delicate tube -from which the drops fell at long, slow intervals, waited till one, -glittering like a rare jewel, was imprisoned within it. She watched -him, with more disdain than fear,--and her eyes were brilliant and -almost scornful as he raised himself from his stooping position and -faced her. The pale blue dress she wore was transformed by the rosy -light around her into a rich purple, and as she stood fixedly regarding -him there was something so proud and regal in her aspect that he -paused, vaguely astonished. - -“What is the matter with you?” he asked. “Are you angry?” - -“Who am I that I should be angry?” she retorted. “I am only your slave!” - -He frowned. - -“Are you going to play the capricious woman at this late hour and show -temper?” he said, impatiently. “I am in no humour for reproaches. You -promised loyalty----” - -“Have I broken my promise?” she demanded. - -“No--not yet! But you look as if you might break it!” - -She gave a slight, yet expressive gesture of contempt. - -“What a poor thing you are as a man, after all!” she exclaimed. “Here, -in the presence of the vast forces you have bent to your use,--here, -with your ‘subject,’ a mere woman, entirely at your disposal, you -doubt!--you disbelieve in my sworn word, which is as strong as all your -science, perhaps stronger! Come!--you look like a conspirator who has -extracted poison from some mysterious substance, and who is longing to -try it on a victim! Do you want me to take it now?” - -He gazed at her with a sudden sense of fear. Almost her courage -overmastered his will. There was something austere and angelic in -that slight figure with the rosy waves of vapour playing about it and -turning its azure draperies to royal purple, and for the first time he -wondered whether there was not something deliberately brutal in his -treatment of her. Rallying his self-possession he answered: - -“When we are outside this place you can take it, if you will----” - -“Why not inside?” she asked. “Here, where the vapours of your witches’ -cauldron simmer and steam--where I can feel your melting fires pricking -every vein and nerve!” and she stretched out her arms towards the Wheel -of strange opalescent light which now revolved almost at a snail’s -pace. “Make short work of me, Dr. Dimitrius!--this is the place for it!” - -On a sudden impulse he sprang to her side and seized her hand. - -“Diana! You think me a pitiless murderer!” - -She looked straight into his eyes. - -“No, I don’t. I think you simply a man without any feeling except for -yourself and your own aims. There are thousands,--aye, millions of your -sex like you,--you are not extraordinary.” - -“If I succeed you will have cause to thank me----” - -“Possibly!” she answered, with a slight smile. “But you know gratitude -sometimes takes curious and unexpected forms! One of the commonest is -hatred of the person who has done you a kindness! Come, give me that -fire-drop,--it is restless in its prison! We are fighting a strange -duel, you and I--you are all for self, and your own ultimate triumph--I -am selfless, having nothing to lose or to win----” - -“Nothing?” he repeated. “Foolish woman!--you cannot foresee--you cannot -project yourself into the future. Suppose I gave you youth?--suppose -with youth I gave you beauty?--Would you then call me selfish?” - -“Why, yes, of course!” she answered, composedly. “You would not give -such gifts to me because you had any desire to make _me_ happy--nor -would you give them if you could secure them for yourself without -endangering your life! If you succeed in your attempts they would fall -to my lot naturally as part of your ‘experiment,’ and would prove your -triumph. But as far as my personality is concerned, you would not care -what became of me, though with youth and beauty I might turn the tables -on you!” She laughed,--then said again: “Give me my dose!” - -“I told you before that it would be better to take it when we go -outside the laboratory,” he answered. “Suppose you became insensible! I -could not leave you here.” - -“Why not?” she demanded, recklessly. “It would not matter to you. -Please give it to me!--Whether I live or die I like doing things -quickly!” - -With a certain sense of mingled compassion, admiration and reluctance, -he handed her the phial. She looked with intent interest at the shining -drop pent within, which glowed like a fine topaz, now fiery orange, now -red, now pale amber, and moved up and down as rapidly and restlessly as -quicksilver. - -“How pretty it is!” she said. “If it would only condense and harden -into a gem one would like to wear it in a ring! It would outshine all -Professor Chauvet’s jewels. Well, Dr. Dimitrius, good-night! If I fall -into your dark pool don’t trouble to fish me out!--but if not, don’t -leave me here till morning!” - -And, smiling, she put the phial to her lips and swallowed its contents. - -Dimitrius stood, silently watching. Would she swoon, as she almost -did the last time?--or would she be convulsed? No!--she remained -erect,--unswerving:--but, as if by some automatic movement, she lifted -her arms slowly and clasped her hands above her head in an attitude of -prayer. Her eyes closed--her breathing was scarcely perceptible--and -so she remained as though frozen into stone. Moved beyond his usual -calm by wonderment at this unexpected transformation of a living woman -into a statue, he called her,--but she gave no answer. And then another -remarkable thing happened. An aureole of white light began to form -round her figure, beginning from the head and falling in brilliant rays -to the feet,--her dress seemed a woven tissue of marvellous colours -such as one finds painted for the robes of saints in antique missals, -and her features, outlined against the roseate mist that filled the -laboratory, were pure and almost transparent as alabaster. Thrilled -with excitement, he could not speak--he dared not move,--he could only -look, look, as though all his forces were concentrated in his eyes. How -many minutes passed he could not determine, but he presently saw the -light begin to pale,--one ray after another disappeared, quite slowly -and as though each one were absorbed by some mysterious means into the -motionless figure which had seemingly projected them,--then, with equal -slowness, Diana’s upraised hands relaxed and her arms dropped to her -sides--her eyes opened, brilliant and inquiring. - -He went to her side. “Diana!” he said, in carefully hushed tones. -“Diana----” - -“Why did you wake me?” she asked plaintively, in a voice of melting -sweetness. “Why take me away from the garden I had found? It was all -mine!--and there were many friends--they said they had not seen me for -centuries! I should have liked to stay with them a little longer!” - -He listened, in something of alarm. Had she lost her senses? He knew -it was possible that the potent force of his mysterious distillation -might so attack the centres of the brain as to reverse their normal -condition. He touched her hand,--it was warm and soft as velvet. - -“Still dreaming, Diana?” he said, as gently as he could. “Will you not -come with me now?” - -She turned her eyes upon him. There was no sign of brain trouble in -those clear orbs of vision--they were calm mirrors of sweet expression. - -“Oh, it is you!” she said in more natural tones. “I really thought I -had gone away from you altogether! It was a delightful experience!” - -He was a trifle vexed. He hardly cared to hear that going away from him -altogether was “a delightful experience.” She was rapidly recovering -from her trance-like condition, and swept back her hair from her brows -with a relieved, yet puzzled gesture. - -“So it’s all over!” she said. “I’m here just the same as ever! I was -sure I had gone away!” - -“Where?” he asked. - -“Oh, ever so far!” she answered. “I was carried off by people I -couldn’t see--but they were kind and careful, and it was quite easy -going. And then I came to a garden--oh!--such an exquisite place, full -of the loveliest flowers--somebody said it was mine! I wish it were!” - -“You were dreaming,” he said, impatiently. “There’s nothing in dreams! -The chief point to me is that you have not suffered any pain. You have -nothing to complain of?” - -She thought a minute, trying to recall her sensations. - -“No,” she answered, truthfully, “nothing.” - -“Good! Then I can proceed without fear,” he said. “Enough for -to-night--we will go.” - -Her eyes were fixed on the revolving Wheel. - -“It goes slowly because the sunshine has gone, I suppose?” she asked. -“And all the light it produces now is from the interior stores it has -gathered up in the day?” - -He was surprised at the quickness of her perception. - -“Yes--that is so,” he said. - -“Then it never stops absolutely dead?” - -“Never.” - -She smiled. - -“Wonderful Dimitrius! You have built up a little mechanical universe -of your own and you are the god of it! You must be very pleased with -yourself!” - -“I am equally pleased with _you_,” he said. “You surpass all my -expectations.” - -“Thanks so much!” and she curtsied to him playfully. “May I say -good-night? Will not your mother wonder where we are?” - -“My mother is too sensible a woman to question my movements,” he -replied. “Come! You are sure you feel strong and well?” - -“Quite sure!” she said, then paused, surprised at the intense way he -looked at her. - -“Have you ever heard these lines?” he asked, suddenly: - - “O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! - Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night, - Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear-- - Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!” - -Diana smiled happily. - -“Of course! Shakespeare’s utterance! Who else has ever written or could -write such lines?” - -“I’m glad you know them!” he said, musingly. “They occurred to me just -now--when----” - -He broke off abruptly. - -“Come!” he repeated. “We shall not see this place again for a couple of -months--perhaps longer. And--the sooner we get away the better!” - -“Why?” asked Diana, surprised. - -“Why?” and a curious half-frowning expression darkened his brows. “You -must wait to know why! You will not have to wait long!” - -He signed to her to keep close behind him; and together they moved -like phantom figures through the rosy mist that enveloped them, till, -at the touch of his wizard hand, the door swung upwards to give -them egress and descended again noiselessly as they passed out. The -corridor, previously dark, was now dimly lit, but it was more a matter -of groping than seeing, and Diana was glad when they reached the -pleasantly warm and well-illumined hall of the house. There he turned -and faced her. - -“Now, not a word!” he said, with imperative sharpness. “Not a word of -what you have seen, or--dreamed--to my mother! Say good-night to her, -and go!” - -She lifted her eyes to his in something of wonder and protest,--but -obeyed his gesture and went straight into the drawing-room where Madame -Dimitrius sat as usual, quietly knitting. - -“I am to bid you good-night!” she said, smiling, as she knelt down for -a moment by the old lady’s chair. “Dear, your son is very cross!--and -I’m going to bed!” - -Madame Dimitrius gazed upon her in utter amazement and something of -fear. The face uplifted to hers was so radiant and fair that for a -moment she was speechless, and the old hands that held the knitting -trembled. Remembering her son’s command in good time, she made a strong -effort to control herself, and forced a smile. - -“That’s right, my dear!” she said. “Bed is the best place when you’re -tired. I don’t think Féodor means to be cross----” - -“Oh, no!” agreed Diana, springing up from her kneeling attitude, and -kissing Madame’s pale cheek. “He doesn’t ‘mean’ to be anything--but -he _is_! Good-night, dearest lady! You are always kind and sweet to -me--and I’m grateful!” - -With those words and an affectionate wave of her hand, she went,--and -the moment she had left the room Dimitrius entered it. His mother rose -from her chair, and made a gesture with her hands as though she were -afraid and sought to repel him. He took those nervous, wavering hands -and held them tenderly in his own. - -“What’s the matter, mother mine?” he asked, playfully. “You have seen -her?” - -“Féodor! Féodor! You are dealing with strange powers!--perhaps powers -of evil! Oh, my son! be careful, be careful what you do!” she implored, -almost tearfully. “You may not go too far!” - -“Too far, too far!” he echoed, lightly. “There is no too far or -farthest where Nature and Science lead! The Flaming Sword!--it turns -every way to keep the Tree of Life!--but I see the blossom under the -blade!” - -She looked up at his dark, strong face in mingled fondness and terror. - -“You cannot re-create life, Féodor!” she said. - -“Why not?” he demanded. “To-day our surgeons graft new flesh on old and -succeed in their design--why should not fresh cells of life be formed -through Nature’s own germinating processes to take the place of those -that perish? It is not an impossible theory,--I do not waste my time -on problems that can never be solved. Come, come, Mother! Put your -superstitious terrors aside--and if you have the faith in God that I -have, you will realise that there are no ‘powers of evil’ save man’s -own uncontrolled passions, which he inherits from the brute creation, -and which it is his business to master! No mere brute beast foraging -the world for prey can be an astronomer, a scientist, a thinker, or a -ruler of the powers of life,--but a MAN, with self-control, reason, and -devout faith with humility, _can_!--for is not the evolvement of his -being only ‘a little lower than the angels’?” - -She sighed, half incredulous. - -“But beauty----” she said. “Actual beauty----” - -“Beauty is a thing of health, form and atmosphere,” he answered. -“Easy enough to attain with these forces suitably combined, and no -malign environment. Now, dearest mother, puzzle yourself no more over -my mysteries! You have seen Diana--and you can guess my reason for -wishing to get away to Davos Platz as soon as possible. People here -will talk and wonder,--at Davos no one has seen her--not as she was -when she first arrived here--and no questions are likely to be asked. -Besides,--the experiment is not half completed--it has only just begun.” - -“When will it be finished?” his mother asked. - -He smiled, and stooping, kissed her forehead. - -“Not till the summer solstice,” he said. “When light and heat are at -their best and strongest, then I may reach my goal and win my victory!” - -“And then?” - -“And then?” he echoed, smiling. “Ah, who knows what then! Possibly a -happier world!--and yet--did not the Angel Uriel say to the Prophet -Esdras: ‘The Most High hath made this world for the many, but the world -to come for the few!’ _My_ secret is a part of the world to come!” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -Two or three days later the Château Fragonard was closed,--its windows -were shuttered and its gates locked. The servants were dismissed, -all save Vasho, who, with his black face, white teeth, rolling eyes -and dumb lips, remained as sole custodian. The usual callers called -in vain,--and even the Baroness Rousillon, a notable and persistent -inquirer into all matters of small social interest, could learn nothing -beyond the fact (written neatly on a card which Vasho handed to all -visitors) that “Dr. and Madame Dimitrius had left home for several -weeks.” Of Diana May no information was given. Among those who were -the most surprised and deeply chagrined at this turn of events was -the Marchese Farnese, who had himself been compelled to be away for -some time on business in Paris, but who had returned as soon as he -could to Geneva in the hope of improving his acquaintance with Diana -sufficiently to procure some sort of reliable information as to the -problems and projects of Dimitrius. His disappointment was keen and -bitter, for not only did he find her gone, but he could obtain no clue -as to her whereabouts. And even Professor Chauvet had been left very -much in the dark, for Diana had only written him the briefest note, -running thus: - - “Dear Kind Friend! - - “I’m going away for a little while with Madame Dimitrius, who needs - change of air and scene, but I will let you know directly I come back. - I shall think of you very often while absent! - - “Affectionately yours, - “Diana.” - -Chauvet put by these brief lines very preciously in the safe where -he kept his jewels,--“Affectionately yours” was a great consolation, -he thought!--they almost touched the verge of tenderness!--there was -surely hope for him! And he amused himself in his solitary hours with -the drawing of an exquisite design for a small coronal to be worn in -Diana’s hair, wherein he purposed having some of his rarest jewels set -in a fashion of his own. - -Meanwhile the frozen stillness of an exceptionally dreary and bitter -winter enveloped the Château Fragonard and its beautiful gardens, and -no one was ever seen to go to it, or come from it, though there were -certain residents on the opposite side of the lake who could perceive -its roof and chimneys through the leafless trees and who declared that -its great glass dome was always more or less illumined as though a -light were constantly kept burning within. Rumour was busy at first -with all sorts of suggestions and contradictions, but as there appeared -to be no foundation for any one of them, the talk gradually wore itself -out, most people being always too much interested in themselves to keep -up any interest in others for long. - -But, had Rumour a million eyes, as it is said to have a million -tongues, it might well have had occasion to use them all during the -full swing of that particular “season” at Davos Platz, where, in the -“winter sports” and gaieties of the time, Diana was an admired “belle” -and universal favourite. She, who only three or four months previously -had been distinctly “on the shelf” or “in the way,” was now flattered -and sought after by a whole train of male admirers, who apparently -could never have enough of her society. She conversed brilliantly, -danced exquisitely, and skated perfectly,--so perfectly indeed that one -fatuous elderly gentleman nicknamed her “the Ice Queen,” and another, -younger but not less enterprising, addressed her as “_Boule de -Neige_,” conceiving the title prettier in French than in rough English -as “Snowball.” She accepted the attentions lavished upon her with -amused indifference, which made her still more attractive to men whose -“sporting” tendencies are invariably sharpened by obstacles in the way -of securing their game, and, much to her own interest, found herself -the centre of all sorts of rivalries and jealousies. - -“If they only knew my age!” she thought one day. “If they only knew!” - -But they did not know. And it would have been quite impossible for them -to guess. Thus much Diana herself was now forced to concede. Every day -her mirror showed her a fair, unworn face, with the softly rounded -outline of youth, and the clear eyes which betoken the unconscious joy -of perfect health and vitality, and the change in her was so marked -and manifest that she no longer hesitated to speak to Madame Dimitrius -about it when they were alone together. At first the old lady was -very nervous of the subject, and fearful lest she should in some way -displease her masterful son,--but Diana reassured her, promising that -he should never know the nature or extent of their confidences. It -was a great relief to them both when they entered into closer mutual -relations and decided to talk to each other freely--especially to -Madame Dimitrius, who was anxious to be made certain that Diana was -not in any physical suffering or mental distress through the exercise -of Féodor’s extraordinary and, as she imagined, almost supernatural -powers. She was soon satisfied on that score, for Diana could assure -her, with truth, that she had never felt better or brighter. - -“It’s like a new life,” she said, one day, as she sat at the window -of their private sitting-room in the hotel, which commanded a fine -view of the snowy mountain summits. “I feel as if I had somehow been -born again! All my past years seem rolled away like so much rubbish! -I’ve often thought of those words: ‘Except ye be born again ye shall -not enter into the Kingdom of God.’ They used to be a mystery to me, -but they’re not so mysterious now! And it is just like ‘entering the -Kingdom of God’ to look out on this glorious beauty of the mountains, -the snow and the pine trees, and to feel alive to it all, grateful for -it all, loving it all,--as I do!” - -Madame Dimitrius regarded her earnestly. - -“You do not think, then,” she suggested, “that my son is guilty of -any offence against the Almighty by his dealings with these strange, -unknown forces----” - -“Dear Madame!” interrupted Diana, quickly--“do not for a moment -entertain such an idea! It belongs to those foolish times when the -Church was afraid to know the truth and tortured people for telling it! -What offence _can_ there be in exerting to the utmost, the intelligent -faculties God has given us, and in studying to find out the wonderful -advantages and benefits which may be possessed by those who cultivate -reason and knowledge! I think it is a far greater offence against God, -to wilfully remain in ignorance of His goodness to us all!” - -“Perhaps!”--and the old lady sighed--then smiled. “I’m afraid I am -one of those who ‘darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge!’ But, -after all, the great thing for me is that I see you well and happy--and -greatest marvel of all--growing younger every day! You see that for -yourself, don’t you?--and you feel it?” - -“Yes.” And, as she spoke, a strange, far-away look came into Diana’s -eyes. “But--there is one thing I wish I could explain, even to myself! -I feel well, happy, keenly alive to all I see and hear,--and yet--there -is an odd sensation back of it all!--a feeling that I have _no_ -feeling!” - -“My dear Diana!” And Madame Dimitrius’s pale blue eyes opened a little -wider. “What a strange thing to say! You are full of feeling!” - -Diana shook her head decisively. - -“No, I’m not! It’s all put on! It is, really! That is, so far as human -beings and human events are concerned. I feel nothing whatever about -them! The only ‘feeling’ I have is a sort of suppressed ecstasy of -delight in beauty--the beauty of the skies, the effects of sunlight on -the hills and plains, the loveliness of a flower or a bit of exquisite -natural scenery--but I have somehow lost the sense of all association -with humanity!” - -“But--my dear girl!----” began Madame, in perplexity. - -Diana laughed. - -“Ah, now you call me a ‘girl,’ too!” she exclaimed, merrily. “Just as -they all do here in this hotel! I’m not a girl at all--I’m a woman of -‘mature years,’ but nobody would believe it! Even Dr. Féodor himself -is getting puzzled--for he addressed me as ‘dear child’ this very -morning!” She laughed again--her pretty laugh,--which was like a -musical cadence. - -“Yes, dear Madame!--it’s a fact!--with my renewal of youth I’m -developing youth’s happy-go-lucky indifference to emotions! -People,--the creatures that walk about on two legs and eat -and talk--have absolutely no interest for me!--unless they do -something absurd which they imagine to be clever--and that makes me -laugh,--sometimes,--not always! Even your wonderful son, with his -amazing powers and his magnetic eyes which used to send a thrill right -down my spine, fails to move me now to any concern as to my ultimate -fate in his hands. I know that he is, so far, succeeding in his -experiment; but what the final result may be I don’t know--and--I don’t -care!” - -“You don’t care!” echoed Madame, in bewilderment. “Really and truly? -You don’t care?” - -“No, not a bit! That’s just the worst of it! See here, you dear, kind -woman!--here I am; a bought ‘subject’ for Dr. Féodor to try his skill -upon. He told me plainly enough on one occasion that it wouldn’t matter -and couldn’t be helped if I died under his treatment--and I quite -agreed with him. Up to the present I’m not dead and don’t feel like -dying--but I’m _hardening_! Yes! that’s it! Steadily, slowly hardening! -Not in my muscles--not in my arteries--no!--but in my sentiments and -emotions which are becoming positively _nil_!” Her merry laugh rang -out again, and her eyes sparkled with amusement. “But what a good -thing it is, after all! Men are so fond of telling one that they hate -‘emotions’--so it’s just as well to be without them! Now, for instance, -I’m having a splendid time here--I love all the exercise in the open -air, the skating, tobogganing, and dancing in the evening,--it’s all -great fun, but I don’t ‘feel’ that it _is_ as splendid as it _seems_! -Men flatter me every day,--they say ‘How well you skate!’ or ‘How well -you dance!’ ‘How well you play!’ or even ‘How charming you look!’ and -if such things had been said to me in England six months ago I should -have been so happy and at ease that I should never have been afraid and -awkward as I generally was in society--but now! Why now I simply don’t -care!--I only think what fools men are!” - -“But you must remember,” said Madame Dimitrius gently--“you were very -different in appearance six months ago to what you are now----” - -“Exactly! That’s just it!” And Diana gave an expressive gesture of -utter disdain. “That’s what I hate and despise! One is judged by looks -only. I’m just the same woman as ever--six months ago I danced as well, -skated as well, and played the piano as well as I do now--but no one -ever gave me the smallest encouragement! Now everything I do is made -the subject of exaggerated compliment, by the men of course!--not by -the women; _they_ always hate a successful rival of their own sex! Ah, -how petty and contemptible it all is! You see I’m growing young looks -with old experience!--rather a dangerous combination of forces, _I_ -think!--however, if our souls become angels when we die, _they_ will -have a vast experience to look back upon, dating from the beginning of -creation!” - -“And, looking back so far, they will understand all,” said Madame -Dimitrius. “As one of our great writers has said: ‘To know all is to -pardon all.’” - -Diana shrugged her shoulders. - -“Perhaps!” she carelessly conceded. “But that’s just where I should -fail as an angel! I cannot ‘pardon all.’ I hold a standing grudge -against injustice, callousness, cruelty and cowardice. I forgive -none of these things. I loathe a hypocrite--especially a pious one! -I should take pleasure in revenge of some sort on any such loathsome -creature. I would rather save a fly from drowning in the milk-jug than -a treacherous human being from the gallows!” - -“Dear me!” and Madame smiled--“you speak very strongly, Diana! -Especially when you assure me that you cannot ‘feel!’” - -“Oh, I can feel hatred!” said Diana. “_That_ sort of feeling seems -to have a good grip of me! But love, interest, sympathy for other -folks--no!--ten thousand times no! One might love a man with all -the ardour and passion of a lifetime, and yet he may be capable of -boasting of your ‘interest’ in him at his club and damaging your -reputation--(you know some clubs are like old washerwomen’s corners -where they meet to talk scandal)--and you may waste half your time in -interest and sympathy for other folks and they’ll only ask dubiously, -‘What is it all for?’ and ‘round’ on you at the first opportunity, -never crediting you with either honesty or unselfishness in your words -or actions. No, no! It’s best to ‘play’ the world’s puppets--never to -become one of them!” - -“You are bitter, my dear!” commented Madame. “I think it is because you -have missed a man’s true love.” - -Diana laughed and sprang up from her chair. - -“Maybe!” she replied. “But--‘a man’s true love’--as I see it, seems -hardly worth the missing! You are a dear, sentimental darling!--you -have lived in the ‘early Victorian’ manner, finding an agreeable lover -who gave you his heart, after the fashion of an antique Valentine, -and whom you married in the proper and conventional style, and in -due course gave him a baby. That’s it! And oh, SUCH a baby! Féodor -Dimitrius!--doctor of sciences and master of innumerable secrets of -nature--yet, after all, only your ‘baby!’ It is a miracle! But I wonder -if it was worth while! Don’t mind my nonsense, dearest lady!--just -think of me as hardening and shining!--like bits of the glacier we -saw the other day which move only about an inch in a thousand years! -There’s a ‘sports’ ball on the ice to-night--a full moon too!--and your -wonderful son has agreed to skate with me--I wish you would come and -look at us!” - -“I’m too old,” said Madame Dimitrius, with a slight sigh. “I wish -Féodor would make _me_ young as he is making _you_!” - -“He’s afraid!” and Diana stood, looking at her for a moment. “He’s -afraid of killing you! But he’s not afraid of killing _me_!” - -With that she went,--and Madame, laying down her work, folded her hands -and prayed silently that no evil might come to her beloved son through -the strange mysteries which he was seeking to solve, and which to her -simple and uninstructed mind appeared connected with the powers of -darkness rather than the powers of light. - -That evening Diana scored a triumph as belle of the “sports” ball. -Attired in a becoming skating costume of black velvet trimmed with -white fur, with a charming little “toque” hat to match, set jauntily on -her bright hair, and a bunch of edelweiss at her throat, she figured as -an extremely pretty “girl,” and her admirers were many. When Dimitrius -came to claim his promised “glissade” by her side, she welcomed him -smilingly, yet with an indifference which piqued him. - -“Are you tired?” he asked. “Would you rather not skate any more just -now?” - -She gave him an amused look. - -“I am never tired,” she said. “I could skate for ever, if it were not, -like all things, certain to become monotonous. And I’m sure it’s very -good of you to skate with a woman ‘of mature years’ when there are so -many nice girls about.” - -“You are the prettiest ‘girl’ here,” he answered, with a smile. -“Everyone says so!” - -“And what do you say to everyone?” she demanded. - -“I agree. Naturally!” - -He took her hand, and together they started skimming easily over the -ice, now shining like polished crystal in the radiance of the moon and -the light thrown from torches set round the expanse of the skating -ground by the hotel purveyors of pleasure for their visitors. Diana’s -lightness and grace of movement had from the first been the subject of -admiring comment in the little world of humanity, gathered for the -season on those Swiss mountain heights, but this evening she seemed -to surpass herself, and, with Dimitrius, executed wonderful steps and -“figures” at flying speed with the ease of a bird on the wing. Men -looked on in glum annoyance that Dimitrius should have so much of her -company, and women eyed her with scarcely concealed jealousy. But at -the end of an hour she said she had “had enough of it,” and pulling -off her skates she walked with a kind of sedate submissiveness beside -Dimitrius away from the gay scene on the ice back to the hotel. Their -way led through an avenue of pine trees, which, stiffly uplifting their -spear-like points to the frosty skies and bright moon, looked like -fantastic giant sentinels on guard for the night. Stopping abruptly in -the midst of the eerie winter stillness she said suddenly: - -“Dr. Féodor, do you know I’ve had three proposals of marriage since -I’ve been here?” - -He smiled indulgently. - -“Ay, indeed! I’m not surprised! And you have refused them all?” - -“Of course! What’s the good of them?” - -His dark eyes glittered questioningly upon her through their veiling, -sleepy lids. - -“The good of them? Well, really, that is for you to decide! If you want -a husband----” - -“I don’t!” she said, emphatically, with a decisive little stamp of her -foot on the frozen ground. “I should hate him!” - -“Unhappy wretch! Why?” - -“Oh, because!”--she hesitated, then laughed--“because he would be -always about! He’d have the right to go with me everywhere--such a -bore!” - -“Love----” began Dimitrius, sententiously. - -“Love!” She flashed a look of utter scorn upon him. “You don’t believe -in it--neither do I! What have we to do with love?” - -“Nothing!” he agreed, quietly. “But--you are really rewarding my -studies, Diana! You are growing very pretty!” - -She turned from him with a gesture of offended impatience and walked -on. He caught up to her. - -“You don’t like my telling you that?” he said. - -“No. Because the ‘prettiness’ is your forced product. It’s not _my_ -natural output.” - -He seized her hand somewhat roughly and held it as in a vice. - -“You talk foolishly!” he said, in a low, stern voice. “My ‘forced -product’ as you call it, is not mine, except in so far that I have -found and made use of the forces of regenerative life which are in -God’s life and air and which enter into the work of all creation. Your -‘prettiness’ is God’s work!--lift up your eyes to the Almighty Power -which ‘maketh all things new!’” - -Awed and startled by the impassioned tone of his voice and his -impressive manner, she stood inert, her hand remaining passively in his -firm grasp. - -“Men propose to you,” he went on, “because they find you attractive, -and because your face and figure excite their passions--there is no -real ‘love’ in the case, any more than there is in most proposals. The -magnetism of sex is the thing that ‘pulls’--but you--you, my ‘subject,’ -have _no_ sex! That’s what nobody outside ourselves is likely to -understand. The ‘love’ which is purely physical,--the mating which -has for its object the breeding of children, is not for you any more -than it would be for an angel--you are removed from its material and -sensual contact. But the love which should touch your soul to immortal -issues, and which by its very character is expressed through youth -and beauty,--that _may_ come to you!--that may be yours in due time! -Meanwhile, beware how you talk of my ‘forced product’--for behind all -the powers I am permitted to use is the Greatest Power of all, to Whom -I am but the poorest of servants!” - -A deep sigh broke from him and he released her hand as suddenly as he -had grasped it. - -“You have felt no ill effects from the treatment?” he then asked, in a -matter-of-fact tone. - -“No,” she answered. “None at all--except----” - -“Except--what?” - -“Oh, well!--no very great matter! Only that I seem to have lost -something out of myself--I have no interest in persons or events--no -sympathy with human kind. It’s curious, isn’t it? I feel that I belong -more to the atmosphere than to the earth, and that I love trees, grass, -flowers, birds and what is called the world of Nature more than the -world of men. Of course I always loved Nature,--but what was once a -preference has now become a passion--and perhaps, when you’ve done with -me, if I live, I shall go and be a sort of hermit in the woods, away -altogether from ‘people.’ I don’t like flesh and blood!--there’s a kind -of coarseness in it!” she concluded carelessly as she resumed her walk -towards the hotel. - -He was puzzled and perplexed. He watched her as she moved, and noted, -as he had done several times that evening, the exquisite lightness of -her step. - -“Well, at any rate, you are not, physically speaking, any the worse for -receiving my treatment once a fortnight?” he asked. - -“Oh, no! I am very well indeed!” she replied at once. “I can truthfully -assure you I never felt better. Your strange ‘fire-drop’ never gives -me any uncanny ‘sensations’ now--I don’t mind it at all. It seems to -fill me with a sort of brightness and buoyancy. But I have no actual -‘feeling’ about it--neither pleasure nor pain. That’s rather odd, isn’t -it?” - -They were at the entrance door of the hotel, and stood on the steps -before going in. The moonlight fell slantwise on Diana’s face and -showed it wonderfully fair and calm, like that of a sculptured angel in -some niche of a cathedral. - -“Yes--perhaps it is odd,” he answered. “As I have already told you, -I am not cognisant of the possible action of the commingled elements -I have distilled,--I can only test them and watch their effect upon -_you_, in order to gain the necessary knowledge. But that you have no -‘feeling’ seems to me an exaggerated statement,--for instance, you must -have ‘felt’ a good deal of pleasure in your skating to-night?” - -“Not the least in the world!” and the smile she gave him was as chill -as a moonbeam on snow. “I skated on the ice with the same volition -as a bubble floats along the air,--as unconscious as the bubble--and -as indifferent! The bubble does not care when it breaks--nor do I! -Good-night!” - -She pushed open the swing door of the hotel and passed in. - -He remained outside in the moonlight, vexed with himself and her, -though he could not have told why. He lit a cigar and strolled slowly -backwards and forwards in the front of the hotel, trying to soothe his -inward irritation by smoking, but the effect was rather futile. - -“She is wonderfully pretty and attractive now,” he mused. “If all -succeeds she will be beautiful. And what then? I wonder! With every -process of age stopped and reversed, and with all the stimulating -forces of creative regeneration working in every cell of her body it -is impossible to tell how she may develop--and yet--her mentality -may remain the same! This is easily accounted for, because all one’s -experiences of life from childhood make permanent impressions on the -brain and stay there. Like the negatives stored in a photographer’s -dark room one cannot alter them. And the puzzle to me is, how will her -mentality ‘carry’ with her new personality? Will she know how to hold -the balance between them? I can see already that men are quite likely -to lose their heads about her--but what does that matter! It is not the -first time they have maddened themselves for women who are set beyond -the pale of mere sex.” - -He looked up at the still sky,--the frostily sparkling stars,--the -snowy peaks of the mountains and the bright moon. - -“Thank God I have never loved any woman save my mother!” he said. “For -so I have been spared both idleness and worry! To lose one’s time and -peace because a woman smiles or frowns is to prove one’s self a fool or -a madman!” - -And going into the hotel, he finished his cigar in the lounge where -other men were smoking, all unaware that several of them detested -the sight of his handsome face and figure for no other reason than -that he seemed ostensibly to be the guardian, as his mother was the -chaperon, of the prettiest “girl” of that season at Davos, Diana May, -and therefore nothing was more likely than that she should fall in love -with him and he with her. It is always in this sort of fashion that -the goose-gabble of “society” arranges persons and events to its own -satisfaction, never realising that being only geese they cannot see -beyond the circle of their own restricted farmyard. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -It was quite the end of the season at Davos before Dimitrius quitted -it and took his mother and Diana on to the Riviera. Here, in the warm -sunshine of the early Southern spring he began to study with keener and -closer interest the progress of his “subject,” whose manner towards him -and general bearing became more and more perplexing as time went on. -She was perfectly docile and amiable,--cheerful and full of thoughtful -care and attention for Madame Dimitrius,--and every fortnight took his -mysterious “potion” in his presence without hesitation or question, so -that he had nothing to complain of--but there was a new individuality -about her which held her aloof in a way that he was at a loss to -account for. Wherever she went she was admired,--men stared, talked and -sought introductions, and she received all the social attention of an -acknowledged “belle” without seeking or desiring it. - -One evening at a hotel in Cannes she was somewhat perturbed by seeing -a portly elderly man whom she recognised as a club friend of her -father’s, and one who had been a frequent week-end visitor at Rose Lea. -She hoped he would not hear her name, but she was too much the observed -of all observers to escape notice, and it was with some trepidation -that she saw him coming towards her with the rolling gait suggestive of -life-long whisky-sodas--a “man-about-town” manner she knew and detested. - -“Pardon me!” he said, with an openly admiring glance, “but I have just -been wondering whether you are any relation of some friends of mine in -England named May. Curiously enough, they had a daughter called Diana.” - -“Really!” And Diana smiled--a little cold, haughty smile which was -becoming habitual with her. “I’m afraid I cannot claim the honour of -their acquaintance!” - -She spoke in a purposely repellent manner, whereat the bold intruder -was rendered awkward and abashed. - -“I know I should not address you without an introduction,” he said -stammeringly. “I hope you will excuse me! But my old friend Polly----” - -“Your old friend--what?” drawled Diana, carelessly, unfurling a fan and -waving it idly to and fro. - -“Polly--we call him Polly for fun,” he explained. “His full name -is James Polydore May. And his daughter, Diana, was drowned last -summer--drowned while bathing.” - -“Dear me, how very sad!” and Diana concealed a slight yawn behind her -fan. “Poor girl!” - -“Oh, she wasn’t a girl!” sniggered her informant. “She was quite an -old maid--over forty by a good way. But it was rather an unfortunate -affair.” - -“Why?” asked Diana. “I don’t see it at all! Women over forty who have -failed to get married shouldn’t live! Don’t you agree?” - -He sniggered again. - -“Well,--perhaps I do!--perhaps I do! But we mustn’t be severe--we -mustn’t be severe! We shall get old ourselves some day!” - -“We shall indeed!” Diana responded, ironically. “Even _you_ must have -passed your twentieth birthday!” - -He got up a spasmodic laugh at this, but looked very foolish all the -same. - -“Did you--in these psychic days--think I might be the drowned old maid -reincarnated?” she continued, lazily, still playing with her fan. - -This time his laugh was unforced and genuine. - -“_You!_ My dear young lady! The Miss May I knew might be your mother! -No,--it was only the curious coincidence of names that made me wonder -if you were any relative.” - -“There are many people in the world of the same name,” remarked Diana. - -“Quite so! You will excuse me, I’m sure, and accept my apologies!” - -She bent her head carelessly and he moved away. - -A few minutes later Dimitrius approached her. - -“Come out on the terrace,” he said. “It’s quite warm and there’s a fine -moon. Come and tell me all about it!” - -She looked at him in surprise. - -“All about it? What do you mean?” - -“All about the little podgy man who was talking to you! You’ve met him -before, haven’t you? Yes? Come along!--let’s hear the little tale of -woe!” - -His manner was so gentle and playful that she hardly understood it--it -was something quite new. She obeyed his smiling gesture and throwing a -light scarf about her shoulders went out with him on the terrace which -dominated the smooth sloping lawn in front of the hotel, where palms -lifted their fringed heads to the almost violet sky and the scent of -mimosa filled every channel of the moonlit air. - -“I heard all he said to you,” went on Dimitrius. “I was sitting behind -you, hidden by a big orange tree in a tub,--not purposely hidden, I -assure you! And so you are drowned!” - -He laughed,--then, as he saw she was about to speak, held up his hand. - -“Hush! I can guess it all! Not wanted at home, except as a household -drudge--unloved and alone in the world, you made an exit--not a _real_ -exit--just a stage one!--and came to me! Excellently managed!--for -now, being drowned and dead, as the _old_ Diana, you can live in your -own way as the _young_ one! And you are quite safe! Your own father -wouldn’t know you!” - -She was silent, looking gravely out to sea and the scarcely visible -line of the Esterel Mountains. - -“You mustn’t resent my quickness in guessing!” he continued. “I can -always put two and two together and make four! Our podgy friend has -been unconsciously a very good test of the change in you.” - -She turned her head and looked fixedly at him. - -“Yes. Of the _outward_ change. But of the inward, even _you_ know -nothing!” - -“Do I not? And will you not tell me?” - -She smiled strangely. - -“It will be difficult. But as your ‘subject’ I suppose I am bound to -tell----” - -He made a slight, deprecatory gesture. - -“Not unless you wish.” - -“I have no wishes,” she replied. “The matter is, like everything else, -quite indifferent to me. You have guessed rightly as to the causes of -my coming to you--my father and mother were much disappointed at my -losing all my ‘chances’ as the world puts it, and failing to establish -myself in a respectable married position--I was a drag on their wheel, -though they are both quite old people,--so I relieved them of my -presence in the only way I could think of to make them sure they were -rid of me for ever. Then--on the faith of your advertisement I came to -you. You know all the rest--and you also know that the ‘experiment’ -for which you wanted ‘a woman of mature years’ is--so far--successful. -But----” - -“There are no buts,” interrupted Dimitrius. “It is more than fulfilling -my hopes and dreams!--and I foresee an ultimate triumph!--a discovery -which shall revivify and regenerate the human race! You too--surely you -must enjoy the sense of youth--the delight of seeing your own face in -the mirror----?” - -Diana shrugged her shoulders. - -“It leaves me cold!” she said. “It’s a pretty face--quite charming, in -fact!--but it seems to me to be the face of somebody else! I don’t feel -in myself that I possess it! And the ‘sense of youth’ you speak of has -the same impression--it is somebody else’s sense of youth!” Her eyes -glittered in the moonlight, and her voice, low and intensely musical, -had a curious appealing note in it. “Féodor Dimitrius, _it is not -human_!” He was vaguely startled by her look and manner. - -“Not human?----” he repeated, wonderingly. - -“No--not human! This beauty, this youth which you have recreated in -me, are not human! They are a portion of the air and the sunlight--of -the natural elements--they make my body buoyant, my spirit restless. -I long for some means to lift myself altogether from the gross earth, -away from heavy and cloddish humanity, for which I have not a remnant -of sympathy! I am not of it!--I am changed,--and it is you that have -changed me. Understand me well, if you can!--You have filled me -with a strange force which in its process of action is beyond your -knowledge,--and by its means I have risen so far above you that I -hardly know you!” - -She uttered these strange words calmly and deliberately in an even tone -of perfect sweetness. - -A sudden and uncontrollable impulse of anger seized him. - -“That is not true!” he said, almost fiercely. “You know me for your -master!” - -She bent her head, showing no offence. - -“Possibly! For the present.” And again she looked lingeringly, gravely -out towards the sea. “Shall we go in now?” - -“One moment!” he said, his voice vibrating with suppressed passion. -“What you feel, or imagine you feel, is no actual business of mine. I -have set myself to force a secret of Nature from the darkness in which -it has been concealed for ages--a secret only dimly guessed at by the -sect of the Rosicrucians--and I know myself to be on the brink of a -vast scientific discovery. If you fail me now, all is lost----” - -“I shall not fail you,” she interposed quietly. - -“You may--you may!” and he gave a gesture half of wrath, half of -appeal. “Who knows what you will do when the final ordeal comes! With -these strange ideas of yours--born of feminine hysteria, I suppose--who -can foretell the folly of your actions?--or the obedience? And yet you -promised--you promised----” - -She turned to him with a smile. - -“I promised--and I shall fulfil!” she said. “What a shaken spirit is -yours!--You cannot trust--you cannot believe! I have told you, and I -repeat it--that I place my life in your hands to do what you will with -it--to end it even, if so you decide. But if it continues to be a life -that _lives_, on its present line of change, it will be a life above -you and beyond you! That is what I wish you to understand.” - -She drew her scarf about her and moved along the terrace to re-enter -the lounge of the hotel. The outline of her figure was the embodiment -of grace, and the ease of her step suggested an assured dignity. - -He followed her,--perplexed, and in a manner ashamed at having shown -anger. Gently she bade him “good-night” and went at once to her room. -Madame Dimitrius had retired quite an hour previously. - -Once alone, she sat down to consider herself and the position in which -she was placed. Before her was her mirror, and she saw reflected -therein a young face, and the lustre of young eyes darkly blue and -brilliant, which gave light to the features as the sun gives light -to the petals of a flower. She saw a dazzlingly clear skin as fair -as the cup of a lily, and she studied each point of perfection with -the critical care of an analyst or dissector. Every line of age or -worry had vanished,--and the bright hair of which she had always been -pardonably proud, had gained a deeper sheen, a richer hue, while it had -grown much more luxuriant and beautiful. - -“And now,” she mused, “now,--how is it that when I can attract love, -I no longer want it? That I do not care if I never saw a human being -again? That human beings bore and disgust me? That something else fills -me,--desires to which I can give no name?” - -She rose from her chair and went to the window. It opened out to a -small private balcony facing the Mediterranean, and she stood there -as in a dream, looking at the deep splendour of the southern sky. One -great star, bright as the moon itself, shone just opposite to her, like -a splendid jewel set on dark velvet. She drew a deep breath. - -“To this I belong!” she said, softly--“To this--and only this!” - -She made an exquisite picture, had she known it,--and had any one of -her numerous admirers been there to see her, he might have become as -ecstatic as Shakespeare’s Romeo. But for herself she had no thought, so -far as her appearance was concerned,--something weird and mystical had -entered into her being, and it was this new self of hers that occupied -all her thoughts and swayed all her emotions. - -Just before they left Cannes to return to Geneva, Dimitrius asked her -to an interview with himself and his mother alone. They had serious -matters to discuss, he said, and important details to decide upon. -She found Madame Dimitrius pale and nervous, with trembling hands -and tearful eyes,--while Dimitrius himself had a hard, inflexible -bearing as of one who had a disagreeable duty to perform, but who, -nevertheless, was determined to see it through. - -“Now, Miss May,” he said, “we have come to a point of action in which -it is necessary to explain a few things to you, so that there shall be -no misunderstanding or confusion. My mother is now, to a very great -extent, in my confidence, as her assistance and co-operation will be -necessary. It is nearing the end of April, and we propose to return to -the Château Fragonard immediately. We shall open the house and admit -our neighbours and acquaintances to visit us as usual, but--for reasons -which must be quite apparent to you--_you_ are not to be seen. It is to -be supposed that you have returned to England. You follow me?” - -He spoke with a businesslike formality, and Diana, smiling, nodded -a cheerful acquiescence,--then seeing that Madame Dimitrius looked -troubled, went and sat down by her, taking her hand and holding it -affectionately in her own. “You will keep to your suite of apartments,” -Dimitrius continued, “and Vasho will be your sole attendant,--with the -exception of my mother and myself!” Here a sudden smile lightened his -rather stern expression. “I shall give myself the pleasure of taking -you out every day in the fresh air,--fortunately, from our gardens one -can see without being seen.” - -Diana, still caressing Madame Dimitrius’s fragile old hand, sat -placidly silent. - -“You are quite agreeable to this arrangement?” went on Dimitrius--“You -have nothing to suggest on your own behalf?” - -“Nothing whatever!” she answered. “Only--how long is it to last?” - -He raised his eyes and fixed them upon her with a strange expression. - -“On the twenty-first of June,” he said, “I make my final test upon -you--the conclusion of my ‘experiment.’ After the twenty-fourth you -will be free. Free to go where you please--to do as you like. Like -Shakespeare’s ‘Prospero,’ I will give my ‘fine sprite’ her liberty!” - -“Thank you!” and she laughed a little, bending her head towards Madame -Dimitrius. “Do you hear that, dear lady? Think of it! What good times -there are in store for me! If I can only ‘feel’ that they _are_ -good!--or even bad!--it would be quite a sensation!” And she flashed -a bright look at Dimitrius as he stood watching her almost morosely. -“Well!” she said, addressing him, “after the twenty-fourth of June, if -I live, and if you permit it, I want to go back to England. Can that be -arranged?” - -“Assuredly! I will find you a chaperone----” - -“A chaperone!” Her eyes opened widely in surprise and amusement. “Oh, -no! I’m quite old enough to travel alone!” - -“That will not be apparent to the world”--And he smiled again in his -dark, reluctant way--“But--we shall see. In any case, if you wish to go -to England, you shall be properly escorted.” - -“And if you go, will you not come back to us?” asked Madame Dimitrius, -rather wistfully. “I do not want to part with you altogether!” - -“You shall not, dear Madame! I will come back.” And she gently kissed -the hand she held. “Even Professor Chauvet may want to see me again!” - -Dimitrius gave her a sharp glance. - -“That old man is fond of you?” he said, tentatively. - -“Of course he is!” And she laughed again. “Who would _not_ be fond -of me! Excellent Dr. Dimitrius! Few men are so impervious to woman as -yourself!” - -“You think me impervious?” - -“I think a rock by the sea or block of stone more impressionable!” she -replied, merrily. “But that is as it should be. Men of science _must_ -be men without feeling,--they could not do their work if they ‘felt’ -things.” - -“I disagree,” said Dimitrius, quickly--“it is just because men of -science ‘feel’ the brevity and misery of human life so keenly that they -study to alleviate some of its pangs, and spare some of its waste. They -seek to prove the Why and the Wherefore of the apparent uselessness of -existence----” - -“Nothing is useless, surely!” put in Diana--“Not even a grain of dust!” - -“Where is the dust of Carthage?” he retorted--“Of Babylon? Of Nineveh? -With what elements has it commingled to make more men as wise, as -foolish, as sane, or as mad as the generations passed away? The -splendour, the riches, the conquests, the glories of these cities were -as great or greater than any that modern civilisation can boast of--and -yet--what remains? Dust? And is the dust necessary and valuable? Who -can tell! Who knows!” - -“And with all the mystery and uncertainty, is it not better to trust -in God?” said Madame Dimitrius, gently. “Perhaps the little child who -says ‘Our Father’ is nearer to Divine Truth than all the science of the -world.” - -“Sweetly thought and sweetly said, my Mother!” answered Dimitrius. -“But, believe me, I can say ‘Our Father’ with a more perfect and -exalted faith now than I did when I was a child at your knee. And -why? Because I know surely that there is ‘Our Father’ which is in -Heaven!--and because He permits us to use reason, judgment and a sane -comprehension of Nature, even so I seek to learn what I am confident -He wishes us to know!” - -“At all risks?” his mother hinted, in a low tone. - -“At all risks!” he answered. “A political government risks millions of -human lives to settle a temporary national dispute--I risk _one_ life -to make millions happier! And”--here he looked steadily at Diana with -a certain grave kindness in his eyes--“she is brave enough to take the -risk!” - -Diana met his look with equal steadiness. - -“I do not even think about it!” she said--“It does not seem worth -while!” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -The strange spirit of complete indifference, and the attitude of -finding nothing, apparently, worth the trouble of thinking about, -stood Diana in such good stead, that she found no unpleasantness or -restriction in being more or less a prisoner in her own rooms on her -return to the Château Fragonard. The lovely house was thrown open to -the usual callers and neighbours,--people came and went,--the gardens, -glorious now with a wealth of blossom, were the favourite resort of -many visitors to Madame Dimitrius and her son,--and Diana, looking -from her pretty _salon_ through one of the windows which had so deep -an embrasure that she could see everything without any fear of herself -being discovered, often watched groups of men and smartly attired women -strolling over the velvety lawns or down the carefully kept paths among -the flowers, though always with a curious lack of interest. They seemed -to have no connection with her own existence. True to his promise, Dr. -Dimitrius came every day to take her out when no other persons were in -the house or grounds,--and these walks were a vague source of pleasure -to her, though she felt she would have been happier and more at ease -had she been allowed to take them quite alone. Madame Dimitrius was -unwearying in her affectionate regard and attention, and always spent -the greater part of each day with her, displaying a tenderness and -consideration for her which six months previously would have moved -her to passionate gratitude, but which now only stirred in her mind -a faint sense of surprise. All her sensations were as of one, who, -by some mysterious means, had been removed from the comprehension of -human contact,--though her intimacy with what the world is pleased -to consider the non-reasoning things of creation had become keenly -intensified, and more closely sympathetic. - -There was unconcealed disappointment among the few, who, during the -past autumn, had met her at the Château, when they were told she had -gone back to England. Baroness de Rousillon was, in particular, much -annoyed, for she had made a compact with the Marchese Farnese to -enter into close and friendly relations with Diana, and to find out -from her, if at all possible, the sort of work which went on in the -huge domed laboratory wherein Dimitrius appeared to pass so much of -his time. Farnese himself said little of his vexation,--but he left -Geneva almost immediately on hearing the news, and without informing -Dimitrius of his intention, went straight to London, resolved to -probe what he considered a “mystery” to its centre. As for Professor -Chauvet, no words could describe his surprise and deep chagrin at -Diana’s departure; he could not bring himself to believe that she had -left Geneva without saying good-bye to him. So troubled and perplexed -was he, that with his usual bluntness he made a clean confession to -Dimitrius of his proposal of marriage. Dimitrius heard him with grave -patience and a slight, supercilious uplifting of his dark eyebrows. - -“I imagined as much!” he said, coldly, when he had heard all. “But Miss -May is not young, and I should have thought she would have been glad of -the chance of marriage you offered her. Did she give you any hope?” - -Chauvet looked doubtfully reflective. - -“She did and she didn’t,” he at last answered, rather ruefully. “And -yet--she’s not capricious--and I trust her. As you say, she’s not -young,--good heavens, what a heap of nonsense is talked about ‘young’ -women!--frequently the most useless and stupid creatures!--only -thinking of themselves from morning till night!--Miss May is a fine, -intelligent creature--I should like to pass the few remaining years of -my life in her company.” - -Dimitrius glanced him over with an air of disdainful compassion. - -“I dare say she’ll write to you,” he said. “She’s the kind of woman who -might prefer to settle that sort of thing by letter.” - -“Can you give me her address?” at once asked the Professor, eagerly. - -“Not at the moment,” replied Dimitrius, composedly. “She has no fixed -abode at present,--she’s travelling with friends. As soon as I hear -from her, I will let you know!” - -Chauvet, though always a trifle suspicious of other men’s meanings, was -disarmed by the open frankness with which this promise was given, and -though more or less uneasy in his own mind, allowed the matter to drop. -Dimitrius was unkindly amused at his discomfiture. - -“Imagine it!” he thought--“That exquisite creation of mine wedded to so -unsatisfactory a product of ill-assorted elements!” - -Meanwhile, Diana, imprisoned in her luxurious suite of rooms, had -nothing to complain of. She read many books, practised her music, -worked at her tapestry, and last, not least, studied herself. She had -begun to be worth studying. Looking in her mirror, she saw a loveliness -delicate and well-nigh unearthly, bathing her in its growing lustre as -in a mysteriously brilliant atmosphere. Her eyes shone with a melting -lustre like the eyes of a child appealing to be told some strange sweet -fairy legend,--her complexion was so fair as to be almost dazzling, -the pure ivory white of her skin showing soft flushes of pale rose with -the healthful pulsing of her blood--her lips were of a dewy crimson -tint such as one might see on a red flower-bud newly opened,--and as -she gazed at herself and reluctantly smiled at her own reflection, she -had the curious impression that she was seeing the picture of somebody -else in the glass,--somebody else who was young and enchantingly -pretty, while she herself remained plain and elderly. And yet this was -not the right view to take of her own personality, for apart altogether -from her outward appearance she was conscious of a new vitality,--an -abounding ecstasy of life,--a joy and strength which were well-nigh -incomprehensible,--for though these sensations dominated every fibre -of her being, they were not, as formerly, connected with any positive -human interest. For one thing, she scarcely thought of Dimitrius at -all, except that she had come to regard him as a sort of extraneous -being--an upper servant told off to wait upon her after the fashion of -Vasho,--and when she went out with him, she went merely because she -needed the fresh air and loved the open skies, not because she cared -for his company, for she hardly spoke to him. Her strange behaviour -completely puzzled him, but his deepening anxiety for the ultimate -success of his “experiment” deterred him from pressing her too far with -questions. - -One evening during the first week in June, when the moon was showing a -half crescent in the sky, a light wind ruffled the hundreds of roses -on bush and stem that made the gardens fragrant, he went to her rooms -to propose a sail on the lake. He heard her playing the piano,--the -music she drew from the keys was wild and beautiful and new,--but as -he entered, she stopped abruptly and rose at once, her eyes glancing -him over carelessly as though he were more of an insect than a man. He -paused, hesitating. - -“You want me?” she asked. - -“For your own pleasure,--at least, I hope so!” he replied, almost -humbly. “It’s such a beautiful evening--would you come for a sail on -the lake? The wind is just right for it and the boat is ready.” - -She made no reply, but at once threw a white serge cloak across her -shoulders, pulling its silk-lined hood over her head, and accompanied -him along a private passage which led from the upper floor of the house -to the garden. - -“You like the idea?” he said, looking at her somewhat appealingly. She -lifted her eyes--bright and cold as stars on a frosty night. - -“What idea?” - -“This little trip on the lake?” - -“Certainly,” she answered. “It has been very warm all day--it will be -cool on the water.” - -Dimitrius bethought himself of one of the teachings of the -Rosicrucians: “Whoso is indifferent obtains all good. The more -indifferent you are, the purer you are, for to the indifferent, all -things are _One_!” - -Some unusual influence there was radiating from her presence like a -fine air filled with suggestions of snow. It was cold, yet bracing, and -he drew a long breath as of a man who had scaled some perilous mountain -height and now found himself in a new atmosphere. She walked beside him -with a light swiftness that was almost aerial--his own movements seemed -to him by comparison abnormally heavy and clumsy. Seeking about in his -mind for some ordinary subject on which to hang a conversation, he -could find nothing. His wits had become as clumsy as his feet. Pushing -her hood a little aside, she looked at him. - -“You had a garden-party to-day?” she queried. - -“Yes,--if a few people to tea in the gardens is a garden-party,” he -answered. - -“That’s what it is usually called,” said Diana, carelessly. “They are -generally very dull affairs. I thought so, when I watched your guests -from my window--they did not seem amused.” - -“You cannot amuse people if they have no sense of amusement,” -he rejoined. “Nor can you interest them if they have no brains. -They walked among miracles of beauty--I mean the roses and other -flowers--without looking at them; the sunset over the Alpine range was -gorgeous, but they never saw it--their objective was food--that is to -say, tea, coffee, cakes and ices--anything to put down the ever open -maw of appetite. What would you? They are as they are made!” - -She offered no comment. - -“And you,” he continued in a voice that grew suddenly eager and -impassioned--“You are as you are made!--as _I_ have made you!” - -She let her hood fall back and turned her face fully upon him. Its -fairness, with the moonlight illumining it, was of spiritual delicacy, -and yet there was something austere in it as in the face of a -sculptured angel. - -“As _I_ have made you!” he repeated, with triumphant emphasis. “The -majority of men and women are governed chiefly by two passions, -Appetite and Sex. You have neither Appetite nor Sex,--therefore you are -on a higher plane----” - -“Than yours?” she asked. - -The question stung him a little, but he answered at once: - -“Possibly!” - -She smiled,--a little cold smile like the flicker of a sun-ray on -ice. They had arrived at the border of the lake, and a boat with the -picturesque lateen sail of Geneva awaited them with Vasho in charge. -Diana stepped in and seated herself among a pile of cushions arranged -for her comfort,--Dimitrius took the helm, and Vasho settled himself -down to the management of the ropes. The graceful craft was soon -skimming easily along the water with a fair light wind, and Diana in a -half-reclining attitude, looking up at the splendid sky, found herself -wishing that she could sail on thus, away from all things present to -all things future! All things past seemed so long past!--she scarcely -thought of them,--and “all things future”?--What would they be? - -Dimitrius, seated close beside her at the stern, suddenly addressed her -in a low, cautious tone. - -“You know that this is the first week in June?” - -“Yes.” - -“Your time is drawing very near,” he went on. “On the evening of the -twentieth you will come to me in the laboratory. And you will be -ready--for anything!” - -She heard him, apparently uninterested, her face still upturned to the -stars. - -“For anything!” she repeated dreamily--“For an End, or a new Beginning! -Yes,--I quite understand. I shall be ready.” - -“Without hesitation or fear?” - -“Have I shown either?” - -He ventured to touch the small hand that lay passively outside the -folds of her cloak. - -“No,--you have been brave, docile, patient, obedient,” he answered. -“All four things rare qualities in a woman!--or so men say! You would -have made a good wife, only your husband would have crushed you!” - -She smiled. - -“I quite agree. But what crowds of women have been so ‘crushed’ since -the world began!” - -“They have been useful as the mothers of the race,” said Dimitrius. - -“The mothers of what race?” she asked. - -“The human race, of course!” - -“Yes, but which section of it?” she persisted, with a cold little -laugh. “For instance,--the mothers of the Assyrian race seem to have -rather wasted their energies! What has become of _that_ race which they -bore, bred and fostered? Where is the glory of those past peoples? -What was the use of them? They have left nothing but burnt bricks and -doubtful records!” - -“True!--but Destiny has strange methods, and their existence may have -been necessary.” - -She shrugged her shoulders. - -“I fail to see it!” she said. “To me it all seems waste--wanton, wicked -waste. Man lives in some wrong, mistaken way--the real joy of life must -be to dwell on earth like a ray of light, warming and fructifying all -things unconsciously--coming from the sun and returning again to the -sun, never losing a moment of perfect splendour!” - -“But, to have no consciousness is death,” said Dimitrius. “A ray of -light is indifferent to joy. Consciousness with intelligence makes -happiness.” - -She was silent. - -“You are well?” he asked, gently. - -“Perfectly!” - -“And happy?” - -“I suppose so.” - -“You cannot do more than suppose? People will hardly understand you if -you can only ‘suppose’ you are happy!” - -She flashed a look upon him of disdain which he felt rather than saw. - -“Do I expect people to understand me?” she demanded. “Do I wish them to -do so? I am as indifferent to ‘people’ and their opinions as you are!” - -“That is saying a great deal!” he rejoined. “But,--I am a man--you are -a woman. Women must study conventions----” - -“I need not,” she interrupted him. “Nor should you speak of my sex, -since you yourself say I am sexless.” - -He was silent. She had given him a straight answer. Some words of a -great scientist from whom he had gained much of his own knowledge came -back to his memory: - -“To attain true and lasting life, all passions must be subjugated,--all -animosities of nature destroyed. Attraction draws, not only its own to -itself, but the aura or spirit of other things which it appropriates -so far as it is able. And this appropriation or fusion of elements is -either life-giving or destructive.” - -He repeated the words “This appropriation or fusion of elements is -either life-giving or destructive”--to himself, finding a new force in -their meaning and application. - -“Diana,” he said, presently, “I am beginning to find you rather a -difficult puzzle!” - -“I have found myself so for some time,” she answered. “But it does not -matter. Nothing really matters.” - -“Nothing?” he queried. “Not even love? That used to be a great matter -with you!” - -She laughed, coldly. - -“Love is a delusion,” she said. “And no doubt I ‘used’ to think the -delusion a reality. I know better now.” - -He turned the helm about, and their boat began to run homeward, its -lateen sail glistening like the uplifted wing of a sea-gull. Above -them, the snowy Alpine range showed white as the tips of frozen -waves--beneath, the water rippled blue-black, breaking now and again -into streaks of silver. - -“I’m afraid you have imbibed some of my cynicism,” he said, slowly. -“It is, perhaps, a pity! For now, when you have come to think love a -‘delusion,’ you will be greatly loved! It is always the way! If you -have nothing to give to men, it is then they clamour for everything!” - -He looked at her as he spoke and saw her smile--a cruel little smile. - -“You are lovely now,” he went on, “and you will be lovelier. For -all I can tell, you may attain an almost maddening beauty. And a -sexless beauty is like that of a goddess,--slaying its votaries as -with lightning. Supposing this to be so with you, you should learn -to love!--if only out of pity for those whom your indifference might -destroy!” - -She raised herself on her elbow and looked at him curiously. The -moonlight showed his dark, inscrutable face, and the glitter of -the steely eyes under the black lashes, and there was a shadow of -melancholy upon his features. - -“You forget!” she said--“You forget that I am old! I am not really -young in the sense you expect me to be. I know myself. Deep in my brain -the marks of lonely years and griefs are imprinted--of disappointed -hopes, and cruelties inflicted on me for no other cause than too much -love and constancy--those marks are ineffaceable! So it happens that -beneath the covering of youth which your science gives me, and under -the mark of this outward loveliness, I, the same Diana, live with a -world’s experience, as one in prison,--knowing that whatever admiration -or liking I may awaken, it is for my outward seeming, not for my real -self! And you can talk of love! Love is a divinity of the soul, not of -the body!” - -“And how many human beings have ‘soul,’ do you think?” he queried, -ironically. “Not one in ten million!” - -The boat ran in to shore and they landed. Diana looked back wistfully -at the rippling light on the water. - -“It was a beautiful sail!” she said, more naturally than she had -expressed herself for many days. “Thank you for taking me!” - -She smiled frankly up into his eyes as she spoke, and her spiritualised -loveliness thrilled him with sudden surprise. - -“It is I who must thank you for coming,” he answered, very gently. “I -know how keenly you are now attuned to Nature--you have the light of -the sun in your blood and force of the air in your veins, and whether -you admit it or not, you enjoy your life without consciousness of -joy! Strange!--but true!--yet--Diana--believe me, I want you to be -happy!--not only to ‘suppose’ yourself happy! Your whole being must -radiate like the sunlight, of which it is now in part composed.” - -She made no reply, but walked in her floating, graceful way beside him -to the house, where he took her to the door of her own apartments, and -there left her with a kindly “good-night.” - -“I shall not see very much of you now till the evening of the -twentieth,” he said. “And then I hope you will not only pray for -yourself, but--for me!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -The fated eve,--eve of the longest day in the year,--came in a soft -splendour of misty violet skies and dimly glittering stars--after -lovely hours of light and warmth which had bathed all nature in radiant -summer glory from earliest dawn till sunset. Diana had risen with the -sun itself in the brightest of humours without any forebodings of -evil or danger resulting from the trial to which she was ready to be -subjected, and when Madame Dimitrius came up to spend the afternoon -with her as usual, she was gayer and more conversational than she had -been for many a day. It was Madame who seemed depressed and anxious, -and Diana, looking quite charming in her simple gown of white batiste -with a bunch of heliotrope at her bosom, rather rallied her on her low -spirits. - -“Ah, my dear!” sighed the old lady--“If I could only understand -Féodor!--but I cannot! He does not seem to be my son--he grows harsh -and impatient,--this wicked science of his has robbed him of nature! -He is altogether unlike what he used to be when he first began these -studies--and to-day the reason I am sad is that he tells me I am not -to come to you any more till the afternoon of the twenty-fifth!--five -days!--it seems so strange! It frightens me----” - -“Dear, why be frightened?” and Diana smiled encouragingly. “You know -now what he is trying to do--and you can see for yourself that he has -partially succeeded! I’m quite pleased to hear that you are coming to -see me again in five days!--that shows he thinks I shall be alive to -receive you!” - -Madame Dimitrius looked at her in a scared way. - -“Alive? But of course! Surely, oh, surely, you have never thought it -possible----” - -“That Science may kill me?” Diana finished, carelessly. “Very naturally -I _have_ thought it possible! Science sometimes kills more than it -saves,--owing to our fumbling ignorance. And I wonder--supposing Dr. -Féodor makes sure of his discovery--supposing he _can_ give youth and -beauty to those who are willing to go through his experiment--I wonder -whether it is worth while to possess these attractions without any -emotional satisfaction?” - -“Then you are not satisfied?” asked Madame a little sorrowfully. “You -are not happy?” - -Diana moved to the open window, and with an expressive gesture, pointed -to the fair landscape of lake and mountain. - -“With this I am happy!” she answered. “With this I am satisfied! I feel -that all this is part of _Me_!--it is one with me and I with it--my own -blood cannot be closer to me than this air and light. But the pleasure -a woman is supposed to take in her looks if she is beautiful,--the -delight in pretty things for one’s self,--this does not touch me. I -have lost all such sensations. When I was a girl I rather liked to look -at myself in the glass,--to try contrasts of colour or wear a dainty -jewelled trinket,--but now when I see in the mirror a lovely face that -does not belong to me, I am not even interested!” - -“But, my dear Diana, the lovely face _does_ belong to you!” exclaimed -Madame Dimitrius. “You are yourself, and no other!” - -Diana looked at her rather wistfully. - -“I am not so sure of that!” she said. “Now please don’t think I am -losing my senses, for I’m not! I’m perfectly sane, and my thoughts -are particularly clear. But Science is a terrible thing!--it is a -realisation more or less of the Egyptian Sphinx--a sort of monster -with the face of a spirit and the body of an animal. Science, dear -Madame--please don’t look so frightened--has lately taught men more -about killing each other than curing! It also tells us that nothing -is, or can be lost; all sights and sounds are garnered up in the -treasure-houses of air and space. The forms and faces of human -creatures long dead are about us,--the _aura_ of their personalities -remains though their bodies have perished. Now _I_ feel just as if I -had unconsciously absorbed somebody else’s outward personality--and -here I am, making use of it as a sort of cover to my own. My own -interior self admires my outward appearance without any closer -connection than that felt by anyone looking at a picture. I live -_within_ the picture--and no one seeing the picture could think it was -I!” - -Poor Madame Dimitrius listened to Diana’s strange analysis of herself -with feelings of mingled bewilderment and terror. In her own mind she -began to be convinced that her son’s “experiment” would destroy his -“subject’s” mentality. - -“It seems all very dreadful!” she murmured, tremblingly. “And I think, -dear Diana, you should say something of this to Féodor. For I am afraid -he is making you suffer, and that you are unhappy.” - -“No,--that is not so,” and Diana smiled reassuringly. “I do not -suffer--I have forgotten what suffering is like! And I am not unhappy, -because what is called ‘happiness’ has no special meaning for me. -I exist--that is all! I am conscious of the principal things of -existence--air, light, movement--these keep me living without any real -effort or desire on my own part to live!” - -She spoke in a dreamy way, with a far-off look in her eyes,--then, -perceiving that Madame Dimitrius looked nervously distressed, she -brought herself back from her dreamland as it were with an effort, and -went on: - -“You must not worry about me in the least, dear Madame! After all, -it may be an excellent thing for me that I appear to have done with -emotions! One has only to think how people constantly distress -themselves for nothing! People who imagine themselves in love, for -instance!--how they torment themselves night and day!--if they fail -to get letters from each other!--if they quarrel!--if they think -themselves neglected!--why, it is a perpetual turbulence! Then the -parents who spend all their time looking after their children!--and -the children grow up and go their own way,--they grow from pretty -little angels into great awkward men and women, and it is as if one had -played with charming dolls, and then saw them suddenly changed into -clothes-props! Well, I am free from all these tiresome trivialities--I -have what I think the gods must have,--Indifference!” - -Madame Dimitrius sighed. - -“Ah, Diana, it is a pity you were never made a happy wife and mother!” -she said, softly. - -“I thought so too,--once!” and Diana laughed carelessly--“But I’m sure -I’m much better off as I am! Now, dear, we’ll part for the present. I -want to rest a little--and to say my prayers--before Dr. Féodor sends -for me.” - -Madame at once rose to leave the room. But, before doing so, she took -Diana in her arms and kissed her tenderly. - -“God bless and guard thee, dear child!” she murmured. “Thou art brave -and loyal, and I have grown to love thee! If Féodor should bring thee -to harm, he is no son of mine!” - -For a moment the solitary-hearted, unloved woman felt a thrill of -pleasure in this simple expression of affection,--the real sensation -of youth filled her veins, as if she were a confiding girl with -her mother’s arms about her, and something like tears sprang to her -eyes. But she suppressed the emotion quickly. Smiling and apparently -unmoved, she let the gentle old lady go from her, and watched her to -the last as she moved with the careful step of age along the entresol -and out through the entrance to the head of the staircase, where she -disappeared. Once alone, Diana stood for a few moments lost in thought. -She knew instinctively that her life was at stake,--Dimitrius had -reached the final test of his mysterious dealings with the innermost -secrets of Nature, and he had passed the “problem of the Fourth, -Sixth and Seventh,” which according to his theories, meant certain -refractions and comminglings of light. Now he had arrived at “the -ultimate culmination of the Eighth,” or, as he described it “the close -or the rebound of the Octave,”--and in this “rebound” or “culmination” -his subject, Diana, was to take part as a mote within a sun-ray. She -did not disguise from herself the danger in which she stood,--but she -had thought out every argument for and against the ordeal which she -had voluntarily accepted. She measured the value of her life from -each standpoint and found it _nil_, except in so far as her love for -natural beauty was concerned. She would be sorry, she said inwardly, to -leave the trees, the flowers, the birds, the beautiful things of sky -and sea, but she would not be sorry at all to see the last of human -beings! With all her indifference, which even to her own consciousness, -enshrined her as within barriers of ice, her memory was keen,--she -looked back to the few months of distance and time which separated her -from the old life of the dutiful daughter to inconsiderate and selfish -parents--and beyond that, she went still further and saw herself as -a young girl full of hope and joy, given up heart and soul to the -illusion of love, from which she was torn by the rough hand of the -very man to whom she had consecrated her every thought. In all this -there was nothing enviable or regrettable that she should now be sorry -or afraid to die--and in her life to come--if she lived--what would -there be? Her eyes turned almost without her own consent towards the -mirror--and there she read the answer. She would possess the power to -rule and sway the hearts of all men,--if she cared! But now it had so -happened that she did _not_ care. Smouldering in her soul like the -last spent ashes of a once fierce fire, there was just one passion -left--the strong desire of vengeance on all the forces that had spoilt -and embittered her natural woman’s life. She was no longer capable of -loving, but she knew she could hate! A woman seldom loves deeply and -truly more than once in her life--she stakes her all on the one chance -and hope of happiness, and the man who takes advantage of that love and -ruthlessly betrays it may well beware. His every moment of existence is -fraught with danger, for there is no destructive power more active and -intense than love transformed to hate through falsehood and injustice. -And Diana admitted to herself, albeit reluctantly, that she could hate -deeply and purposefully. She hated herself for the fact that it was -so,--but she was too honest not to acknowledge it. Her spirit had been -wounded and maltreated by all on whom she had set her affections,--and -as her way of life had been innocent and harmless, she resented the -unfairness of her fate. Wrong or right, she longed to retaliate in some -way on the petty slights, the meannesses, the hypocrisies and neglect -of those who had assisted in spoiling her youth and misjudging her -character, and though she was willing to “love her enemies” in a broad -and general sense, she was not ready to condone the easy callousness -and cruelty of the persons and circumstances which had robbed her of -the natural satisfaction and peace of happy womanhood. - -For a long time she sat at the open window, lost in a reverie--till -she saw the sun beginning to sink in a splendid panoply of crimson and -gold, with streaming clouds of fleecy white and pale amber spreading -from east to west, from north to south, like the unfurling flags of -some great fairy’s victorious army, and then a sudden thrill ran -through her blood which made her heart beat and her face grow pale--it -was close upon the destined hour when--ah!--she would not stop to -think of the “when” or the “where”--instinctively she knelt down, and -with folded hands said her prayers simply as a child, though with more -than a child’s fervour. She had scarcely breathed the last “Amen,” -when a light tap came on her door, and on her calling “Come in”--Vasho -entered, carrying a small parcel with a note from Dimitrius. Handing it -to her, he signified by his usual expressive signs that he would wait -outside for the answer. As soon as he had retired, she opened the note -and read as follows: - - “You will please disrobe yourself completely, and wear only this - garment which I send. No other material must touch any part of your - body. Let your hair be undone and quite free--no hairpins must remain - in it, and no metal of any sort must be upon your person,--no ring, - bracelet, or anything whatsoever. When you are ready, Vasho will bring - you to me in the laboratory.” - -Having mastered these instructions she undid the packet which -accompanied them,--and unfolded a plain, long, white robe of the most -exquisitely beautiful texture woven apparently of many double strands -of silk. It was perfectly opaque--not the slightest glimmer of the -light itself could be seen through it, yet it shone with a curious -luminance as though it had been dipped in frosted silver. For a moment -she hesitated. A tremor of natural dread shook her nerves,--then, with -a determined effort, mastering herself, she hurried into her bedroom, -and there undressing, laid all her clothes neatly folded up on the -bed. The action reminded her of the way she had folded up her clothes -with similar neatness and left them on the rocks above the sea on the -morning she had decided to effect a lasting disappearance by “drowning.” - -“And now”--she thought--“Now comes a far greater plunge into the -unknown than ever I could have imagined possible!” - -In a few minutes she was “attired for the sacrifice,” as she said, -addressing these words to herself in the mirror, and a very fair -victim she looked. The strange, white sheeny garment in which she was -clothed from neck to feet gave her the appearance of an angel in a -picture,--and the youthful outline of her face, the delicacy of her -skin, the deep brilliancy of her eyes, all set off against a background -of glorious amber-brown hair, which rippled in plentiful waves over her -shoulders and far below her waist, made her look more of a vision than -a reality. - -“Good-bye, you poor, lonely Diana!” she said, softly. “If you never -come back I am glad I saw you just like this--for once!” - -She kissed her hand to her own reflection, then turned and went -swiftly through the rooms, not looking back. Vasho, waiting for her -in the outer hall, could not altogether disguise his wonderment at -sight of her,--but he saluted in his usual passively humble Eastern -manner, and led the way, signing to her to follow. The house was very -quiet,--they met no one, and very soon arrived at the ponderous door of -the laboratory, which swung noiselessly upwards to give them entrance. -Within, there seemed to be a glowing furnace of fire; the great Wheel -emitted such ceaseless and brilliant showers of flame in its rotations -that the whole place was filled with light that almost blinded the -eyes, and Diana could scarcely see Dimitrius, when, like a black -speck detaching itself from the surrounding sea of crimson vapour, -he advanced to meet her. He was exceedingly pale, and his eyes were -feverishly brilliant. - -“So you have come!” he said. “I am such a sceptic that at this last -moment I doubted whether you would!” - -She looked at him steadfastly, but answered nothing. - -“You are brave--you are magnificent!” he went on, his voice sinking to -a lower tone--“But, Diana--I want you to say one thing before I enter -on this final task--and that is--‘I forgive you!’” - -“I will say it if you like,” she answered. “But why should I? I have -nothing to forgive!” - -“Ah, you will not see,--you cannot understand----” - -“I see and understand perfectly!” she said, quickly. “But, if I live, -my life remains my own--if I die, it will be your affair--but there can -be no cause for grudge either way!” - -“Diana,” he repeated, earnestly--“Say just this--‘Féodor, I forgive -you!’” - -She smiled--a strange little smile of pity and pride commingled, and -stretched out both hands to him. To her surprise he knelt before her -and kissed them. - -“Féodor, I forgive you!” she said, very sweetly, in the penetrating -accents which were so exclusively her own.--“Now, Magician, get to your -work quickly! Apollonius of Tyana and Paracelsus were only children -playing on the shores of science compared to you! When _you_ are ready, -_I_ am!” - -He sprang up from his kneeling attitude, and for a moment looked about -him as one half afraid and uncertain. His amazing piece of mechanism, -the great Wheel, was revolving slowly and ever more slowly, for -outside in the heavens the sun had sunk, and the massed light within -the laboratory’s crystal dome was becoming less and less dazzling. -Astonishing reflections of prismatic colour were gathered in the dark -water below the Wheel, as though millions of broken rainbows had -been mixed with its mysterious blackness. Quietly Diana waited, her -white-robed figure contrasting singularly with all the fire-glow which -enveloped her in its burning lustre,--and her heart beat scarcely one -pulse the quicker when Dimitrius approached her, holding with extreme -care a small but massive crystal cup. It was he who trembled, not she, -as she looked at him inquiringly. He spoke, striving to steady his -voice to its usual even tone of composure. - -“This cup,” he said--“if it contains anything, contains the true -elixir for which all scientists have searched through countless ages. -They failed, because they never prepared the cells of the human body -to receive it. I have done all this preparatory work with you, and -I have done it more successfully than I ever hoped. Every tiniest -cell or group of cells that goes to form your composition as a human -entity is now ready to absorb this distillation of the particles which -generate and shape existence. This is the Sacramental Cup of Life! It -is what early mystics dreamed of as the Holy Grail. Do not think that -I blaspheme!--no!--I seek to show the world what Science can give it -of true and positive communion with the mind of God! The elements that -commingle to make this Universe and all that is therein, are the real -‘bread and wine’ of God’s love!--and whoever can and will absorb such -food may well ‘preserve body and soul unto everlasting life.’ Such -is the great union of Spirit with Matter--such is the truth after -which the Churches have been blindly groping in their symbolic ‘holy -communion’ feebly materialised in ‘bread and wine’ as God’s ‘body -and blood.’ But the actual ‘body and blood’ of the Divine are the -ever-changing but never destructible elements of all positive Life and -Consciousness. And you are prepared to receive them.” - -A thrill of strange awe ran through Diana as she heard. His reasoning -was profound, yet lucid,--it was true enough, she thought; that -God,--that is to say, the everlasting spirit of creative power,--is -everywhere and in everything,--yet to the average mind it never -occurs to inquire deeply as to the subtle elements wherewith Divine -Intelligence causes this “everywhere” and “everything” to be made. She -remained silent, her eyes fixed on the crystal cup, knowing that for -her it held destiny. - -“You are prepared,” resumed Dimitrius. “I have left nothing undone. And -yet--you are but woman----” - -“Not weaker than man!” she interrupted him, quickly. “Though men have -sought to make her so in order to crush her more easily! Give me the -cup!” - -He looked at her in undisguised admiration. - -“Wait!” he said. “You shall not lose yourself in the infinite profound, -without knowing something of the means whereby you are moved. This -cup, as you see, is of purest crystal, hewn rough from rocks that may -have been fused in the fires of the world’s foundation. Within it are -all the known discoverable particles of life’s essence, and when I say -‘discoverable,’ I wish you to understand that many of these particles -were not discovered or discoverable at all till I set my soul to -the work of a spy on the secrets of Nature. I have already told you -that this test may be life or death to you--if it should be death, -then I have failed utterly! For, by all the closest and most minute -mathematical measurements, it should be life!” - -Smiling, she stretched out her hand: - -“Give me the cup!” she repeated. - -“If it should be death,” he went on, speaking more to himself than to -her--“I think it will be more your fault than mine. Not voluntarily -your fault, except that perhaps you may have concealed from me details -of your personality and experience which I ought to have known. And -yet I believe you to be entirely honest. Success, as I have told you, -depends on the perfect health and purity of the cells--so that if -you were an unprincipled woman, or if you had led a tainted life--or -you were a glutton, or one who drank and took drugs for imaginary -ailments--the contents of this cup would kill you instantly, because -the cells having been weakened and lacerated could not stand the inrush -of new force. But had you been thus self-injured, you would have shown -signs of it during these months of preparation, and so far I have seen -nothing that should hinder complete victory.” - -“Then why delay any longer?”--and Diana gave a gesture of visible -impatience--“It is more trying to me to wait here in suspense on your -words than to die outright!” - -He looked at her half pleadingly--then turned his eyes towards the -great Wheel, which was now, after sunset, going round with an almost -sleepy slowness. One moment more of hesitation, and then with a firm -hand he held out the cup. - -“Take it!” he said--“And may God be with you!” - -With a smile she accepted it, and putting her lips to the crystal rim, -drained its contents to the last drop. For half or quarter of a second -she stood upright,--then, as though struck by a flash of lightning, she -fell senseless. - -Quickly Dimitrius sprang to her side, picked up the empty cup as it -rolled from her hand, and called: - -“Vasho!” - -Instantly the tall Ethiopian appeared, and obeying his master’s -instructions, assisted him to lift the prone figure and lay it on a -bench near at hand. Then they both set to work to move a number of -ropes and pulleys which, noiselessly manipulated, proved to be an -ingenious device for lowering a sort of stretcher or couch, canopied in -tent-like fashion and made entirely of the same sort of double stranded -silk material in which Diana had clothed herself for her “sacrifice.” -This stretcher was lowered from the very centre of the dome of the -laboratory,--and upon it the two men, Dimitrius and his servant, -carefully and almost religiously placed the passive form, which now had -an appearance of extreme rigidity, like that of a corpse. Dimitrius -looked anxiously at the closed eyes, the waxen pallor of the features, -and the evident tension of the muscles of the neck and throat,--then, -with a kind of reckless swiftness and determination, he began to bind -the apparently lifeless body round and round with broad strips of the -same luminous sheeny stuff which composed the seeming funeral couch -of his “subject” in the fashion of an Egyptian mummy. Vasho, acting -under orders, assisted him as before--and very soon Diana’s form was -closely swathed from head to foot, only the eyes, mouth and ears -being left uncovered. The laboratory was now illumined only by its -own mysterious fires--outside was a dark summer sky, powdered with -faint stars, and every lingering reflex of the sunset had completely -vanished. With the utmost care and minutest attention Dimitrius now -looked to every detail of the strange, canopied bier on which the -insensible subject of his experiment was laid,--then, giving a sign -to Vasho, the ropes and pulleys by which it was suspended were once -more set in motion, and slowly, aerially and without a sound it swung -away and across the dark pool of water to a position just under the -great Wheel. The Wheel, revolving slowly and casting out lambent rays -of fire, illumined it as a white tent might be illumined on the night -blackness of a bare field,--it rested just about four feet above the -level of the water and four feet below the turning rim of the Wheel. -When safely and accurately lodged in this position, Dimitrius and his -servant fastened the ropes and pulleys to a projection in the wall, -attaching them to a padlock of which Dimitrius himself took the key. -Then, pausing, they looked at each other. Vasho’s glittering eyes, -rolling like dark moonstones under his jetty brows, asked mutely a -thousand questions; he was stricken with awe and terror and gazed at -his master as beseechingly as one might fancy an erring mortal might -look at an incarnate devil sent to punish him, but in the set white -face of Dimitrius there was no sign of response or reassurance. Two or -three minutes passed, and, going to the edge of the pool, Dimitrius -looked steadily across it at the white pavilion with its hidden burden -swung between fire and water,--then slowly, but resolutely, turned -away. As he did so, Vasho suddenly fell on his knees, and catching at -his master’s hand, implored him by eloquent signs of fear, pity and -distress, not to abandon the hapless woman, thus bound and senseless, -to a fate more strange and perhaps more terrible than any human being -had yet devised to torture his fellow human being. Dimitrius shook off -his touch impatiently, and bade him rise from his knees. - -“Do not pray to _me_!” he said, harshly--“Pray to your God, if you have -one! _I_ have a God whose Intelligence is so measureless and so true -that I know He will not punish me for spending the brain with which -He has endowed me, in an effort to find out one of His myriad secrets. -There was a time in this world when men knew nothing of the solar -system,--now God has permitted them to know it. In the same way we know -nothing of the secret of life, but shall we dare to say that God will -never permit us to know? That would be blasphemy indeed! We ‘suffer -fools gladly,’--we allow tricksters such as ‘mediums,’ fortune-tellers -and the like to flourish on their frauds, but we give little help to -the man of spiritual or psychological science, whose learning might -help us to conquer disease and death! No, Vasho!--your fears have no -persuasion for me!--I am thankful you are dumb! There is no more to -do--we may go!” - -Vasho’s moonstone eyes still turned lingeringly and compassionately on -the white pavilion under the Wheel of fire. He made expressive signs -with his fingers, to which his master answered, almost kindly: - -“She will die, you think! If so, my toil is wasted--my supreme -experiment is a failure! She must live. And I have sufficient faith in -the _accuracies_ of God and Nature as to be almost sure she _will_! -Come!” - -He took the reluctant Vasho by the arm and led him to the mysterious -door, which swung up in its usual mysterious way at his touch. They -passed out, and as the portal swung down again behind them, Dimitrius -released a heavy copper bar from one side and clamped it across the -whole door, fastening it with lock and key. - -“I do this in case you should be tempted to look in,” he said, with a -stern smile to his astonished attendant. “You have been faithful and -obedient so far--but you know the secret of opening this door when no -bar is placed across it,--but _with_ it!--ah, my Vasho!--the devil -himself may fumble in vain!” - -Vasho essayed a feeble grin,--but his black skin looked a shade less -black, as he heard his master’s words and saw his resolute action. -Gone was the faint hope the poor blackamoor had entertained of being -of some use or rescue to the victim prisoned in the laboratory,--she -was evidently doomed to abide her fate. And Dimitrius walked with an -unfaltering step through the long corridor from the laboratory into -the hall of his house, and then sent Vasho about his usual household -business, while he himself went into the garden and looked at the -still beauty of the evening. Everywhere there was fragrance and -peace--innumerable stars clustered in the sky, and the faint outline -of the snowy Alps was dimly perceptible. From the lawn, he could see -the subdued glitter of the glass dome of the laboratory; at that moment -it had the effect of a crystal sphere with the palest of radiance -filtering through. - -“And to-morrow is the longest day!” he said with a kind of rapt -exultation. “Pray Heaven the sun may shine with all its strongest -force and utmost splendour from its rising to its setting! So shall we -imprison the eternal fire!” - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -The next morning dawned cloudlessly, and a burning sun blazed intense -summer heat through all the hours of the longest and loveliest day. -Such persistent warmth brought its own languor and oppression, and -though all the doors and windows of the Château Fragonard were left -open, Madame Dimitrius found herself quite overwhelmed by the almost -airless stillness, notwithstanding a certain under-wave of freshness -which always flowed from the mountains like a breathing of the snow. - -“How is Diana?” she asked of her son, as, clad in a suit of cool white -linen, he sauntered in from the garden to luncheon. - -“I believe she is very well,” he answered, composedly. “She has not -complained.” - -“I hope she has nothing to complain of,” said the old lady, nervously. -“You promised me, Féodor, that you would not let her suffer.” - -“I promised you that if she was unhappy or in pain, I would do my best -to spare her as much as possible,” he replied. “But, up to the present, -she is neither unhappy nor in pain.” - -“You are sure?” - -“Sure!” - -Vasho, who was in attendance, stared at him in something of questioning -terror, and his mother watched him with a mute fondness of appeal in -her eyes which, however, he did not or would not see. She could not but -feel a certain pride in him as she looked at his fine, intellectual -face, rendered just now finer and more attractive by the tension of -his inward thought. Presently he met her searching, loving gaze with a -smile. - -“Do you not think, Mother mine,” he said, “that I merit some of the -compassion you extend so lavishly to Miss May, who is, after all, a -stranger in our house? Can you not imagine it possible that I, too, may -suffer? Permit yourself to remember that it is now twenty-five years -since I started on this quest, and that during that time I have not -rested day or night without having my brain at work, puzzling out my -problem. Now that I have done all which seems to me humanly possible, -have you no thought of me and my utter despair if I fail?” - -“But you will not fail----” - -“In every science, for one success there are a million failures,” -he replied. “And dare I complain if I am one of the million? I have -been fortunate in finding a subject who is obedient, tractable, and -eminently courageous,--sometimes, indeed, I have wondered whether her -courage will not prove too much for me! She is a woman of character--of -strong, yet firmly suppressed emotions; and she has entered a -characterless household----” - -“Characterless?” repeated Madame Dimitrius, in surprised tones--“Can -_you_ say that?” - -“Of course! What play of character can be expected from people who are -as self-centred as you and I? You have no thought in life beyond me, -your erratic and unworthy son,--I have no thought beyond my scientific -work and its results. Neither you nor I take interest in human affairs -or human beings generally; any writer of books venturing to describe -us, would find nothing to relate, because we form no associations. We -let people come and go,--but we do not really care for them, and if -they stayed away altogether we should not mind.” - -“Well, as far as that goes, Diana tells me she is equally indifferent,” -said Madame. - -“Yes,--but her indifference is hardly of her own making,” he replied. -“She is not aware of its source or meaning. Her actual character and -temperament are deep as a deep lake over which a sudden and unusual -frost has spread a temporary coating of ice. She has emotions and -passions--rigidly and closely controlled. She cares for things, without -knowing she cares. And at any moment she may learn her own power----” - -“A power which _you_ have given her,” interposed his mother. - -“True,--and it may be a case of putting a sword into the hand that is -eager to kill,” he answered. “However, her strength will be of the -psychological type, which gross material men laugh at. _I_ do not -laugh, knowing the terrific force hidden within each one of us, behind -the veil of flesh and blood. Heavens!--what a world it would be if we -all lived according to the spirit rather than the body!--if we all -ceased to be coarse feeders and animal sensualists, and chose only the -purest necessaries for existence in health and sanity!--it would be -Paradise regained!” - -“If your experiment succeeds as you hope,” said Madame Dimitrius, “what -will happen then? You will let Diana go?” - -“She will go whether I ‘let’ her or not,” he replied. “She will have -done all I require of her.” - -His mother was silent, and he, as though weary of the conversation, -presently rose and left the room. Stepping out on the lawn in the -full blaze of noonday, he looked towards the dome of the laboratory, -but could scarcely fix his eyes upon its extreme brilliancy, which -was blinding at every point. He felt very keenly that it was indeed -the longest day of the year; never had hours moved so slowly,--and -despite the summer glory of the day,--so drearily. His thoughts dwelt -persistently on the bound and imprisoned form swung in solitude -under the great Wheel, which he knew must now be revolving at -almost lightning speed, churning the water beneath it into prismatic -spray,--and every now and then a strong temptation beset him to go and -unlock the door of the prison house, and see whether his victim had -wakened to the consciousness of her condition. But he restrained this -impulse. - -With evening the slender curve of the new moon glided into the sky, -looking like the pale vision of a silver sickle, and a delicious -calm pervaded the air. His thoughts gradually took on a more human -tendency,--he allowed himself to pity his “subject.” After all, -what an arid sort of fate had been hers! The only child of one of -those painfully respectable British couples who never move out of -the conventional rut, and for whom the smallest expression or honest -opinion is “bad form,”--and herself endowed (by some freak of Nature) -with exceptional qualities of brain, what a neutral and sad-coloured -existence hers had been when love and the hope of marriage had deserted -her! No wonder she had resolved to break away and seek some outlet for -her cramped and imprisoned mentality. - -“Though marriage is drab-coloured enough!” he mused--“Unless husband -and wife are prudent, and agree to live apart from each other for -so many months in the year. And now--if my experiment succeeds she -will make a fool or a lunatic of every man her eyes rest upon--except -myself!” - -The days wore away slowly. As each one passed, Madame Dimitrius grew -more and more uneasy, and more and more her eyes questioned the -unresponsive face of her son. Vasho, too, could not forbear gazing with -a kind of appealing terror at his master’s composed features and easy -demeanour; it was more than devilish, he thought, that a man could -comport himself thus indifferently when he had a poor human victim shut -up within a laboratory where the two devouring elements of fire and -water held the chief sway. However, there was nothing to be done. A -figure of stone or iron was not more immovable than Dimitrius when once -bent to the resolved execution of a task, no matter how difficult such -task might be. Looking at the cold, indomitable expression of the man, -one felt that he would care nothing for the loss of a thousand lives, -if by such sacrifice he could attain the end in view. But though his -outward equanimity remained undisturbed, he was inwardly disquieted -and restless. He saw two alternatives to his possible success. His -victim might die,--in which case her body would crumble to ashes in the -process to which it was being subjected,--or she might lose her senses. -Death would be kinder than the latter fate, but he was powerless to -determine either. And even at the back of his mind there lurked a dim -suggestion of some other result which he could not formulate or reckon -with. - -The longest waiting must have an end, but never to his thought did a -longer period of time stretch itself out between the evening of the -twentieth of June and that of the twenty-fourth, Midsummer Day. The -weather remained perfect; intensely warm, bright and still. Not a -cloud crossed the burning blue of the daylight, and at evening, the -young moon, slightly broadening from a slender sickle to the curve -of a coracle boat floating whitely in the deep ether, shed fairy -silver over the lake and the Alpine snows above it. During these -days, many people of note and scientific distinction called at the -Château Fragonard,--Féodor Dimitrius was a personage to be reckoned -with in many departments of knowledge, and his exquisite gardens -afforded coolness and shade to those wanderers from various lands who -were touring Switzerland in search of health and change of scene. -Near neighbours and acquaintances also came and went, but such is -the generally vague attitude of mind assumed by ordinary folk to -other than themselves, that scarcely any among the few who had met -Diana and accepted her as a chance visitor to Madame Dimitrius, now -remembered her, except the Baron and Baroness de Rousillon, who still -kept up a slight show of interest as to her whereabouts, though their -questions were lightly evaded and never fully answered. Professor -Chauvet, irritated and unhappy at receiving no news whatever of the -woman for whom he had conceived a singular but sincere affection, had -taken it into his head to go suddenly to Paris, to see after his house -and garden there, which had long been unoccupied; a fancy possessed -him that if, or when, Diana did write to him, he would answer her -from Paris, so that they might meet there or in London, without the -surveillance or comment of Dimitrius. Meanwhile, Dimitrius himself, -a figure of impenetrable reserve and cold courtesy, let his visitors -come and go as they listed, apparently living the life of a scientist -absorbed in studies too profound to allow himself to be troubled or -distracted by the opinions of the outer world. - -Midsummer Day, the Feast of St. John, and a day of poetic and -superstitious observance, came at last and drifted along in a stream -of gold and azure radiance, the sun sinking round as a rose in a sky -without a cloud. To the last moment of its setting Dimitrius waited, -watch in hand. All day long he had wandered aimlessly in the garden -among his flowers, talking now and then to his gardeners, and stopping -at every point where he could see the crystal dome of his laboratory -shine clear like the uplifted minaret of some palace of the East, and -it was with the greatest difficulty that he compelled himself to walk -with a slow and indifferent mien when the moment arrived for him to -return to the Château. His heart galloped like a run-away race-horse, -while he forced his feet into a sauntering and languid pace as though -he were more than oppressed by the heat of the day,--and he stopped -for a moment to speak to his mother, whose reclining chair was in the -loggia where she could enjoy the view of the gardens and the fountains -in full play. - -“I am--” he said, and paused,--then went on--“I am going to the -laboratory for an hour or two. If I am late for dinner, do not wait for -me.” - -Madame Dimitrius, busy with some delicate lacework, looked up at him -inquiringly. - -“Are you seeing Diana this evening?” she asked. - -He nodded assent. - -“Give her my love and tell her how glad I am that her days of solitude -are over, and that I shall come to her to-morrow as soon as you will -allow me.” - -He nodded again, and with a tender hand stroked the silver bandeaux of -the old lady’s pretty hair. - -“After all, old age is quite a beautiful thing!” he said, and stooping, -he kissed her on the brow. “It is, perhaps, wrong that we should wish -to be always young?” - -He passed on then, and, entering his library, rang a bell. Vasho -appeared. - -“Vasho, the hour has come!” he said, whereat Vasho, the dumb, uttered -an inarticulate animal sound of terror. “Either I have succeeded, or I -have failed. Let us go and see!” - -He paused for a moment, his eyes resting on the mysterious steel -instrument, which, always working in its accustomed place on its -block of crystal, struck off its tiny sparks of fire with unceasing -regularity. - -“_You_ gave me the first clue!” he said, addressing it. “You were a -fluke--a chance--a stray hint from the unseen. And you will go on for -ever if nothing disturbs your balance--if nothing shakes your exact -mathematical poise. So will the Universe similarly go on for ever, -if similarly undisturbed. All a matter of calculation, equality of -distribution and exact poise--designed by a faultless Intelligence! An -Intelligence which we are prone to deny--a Divinity we dare to doubt! -Man perplexes himself with a million forms of dogma which he calls -‘religions,’ when there is truly only one religion possible for all the -world, and that is the intelligent, reasoning, devout worship of the -true God as made manifest in His works. These works none but the few -will study, preferring to delude themselves with the fantastic spectres -of their own imaginations. Yet, when we _have_ learned what in time we -must know,--the words of the Evangelist may be fulfilled: ‘I saw a new -heaven and a new earth, for the first earth and the first heaven were -passed away.... And there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor -crying, neither shall there be any more pain.’ So we may have a joyous -world, where youth and life are eternal, and where never a heart-throb -of passion or grief breaks the halcyon calm! Shall we care for it, I -wonder? Will it not prove monotonous?--and when all is smooth sailing, -shall we not long for a storm?” - -A quick sigh escaped him,--then remembering Vasho’s presence, he shook -off his temporary abstraction. - -“Come, Vasho!” he said, “I must go and find this marvel of my -science--living or dead! And don’t look so terrified!--one would think -_you_ were the victim! Whatever happens, _you_ are safe!” - -Vasho made expressive signs of apologetic humility and appeal, to which -Dimitrius gave no response save an indulgent smile. - -“Come!” he repeated. They left the library, Dimitrius leading the way, -and walked through the long corridor to the door of the laboratory. -Gleams of gold and silver shone from the mysterious substance of which -it was composed, and curious iridescent rays flashed suddenly across -their eyes as if part of it had become transparent. “The sun’s flames -have had power here,” remarked Dimitrius. “Almost they have pierced the -metal.” - -Answering to pressure in the usual manner, the portal opened and -closed behind them as they entered. For a moment it was impossible -to see anything, owing to the overwhelming brilliancy of the light -which filled every part of the domed space--a light streaked here and -there with gold and deep rose-colour. The enormous Wheel was revolving -slowly--and beneath its rim, the canopied white stretcher was suspended -over the dark water below, as it had been left four days previously. -The prisoned victim had not stirred. For two or three minutes Dimitrius -stood looking eagerly, his eyes peering through the waves of light that -played upon his sense of vision almost as drowningly as the waves of -the sea might have played upon his power of breathing. Vasho, shaken to -pieces by his uncontrollable inward terrors, had fallen on his knees -and hidden his face in his hands. Dimitrius roused him from this abject -attitude. - -“Get up, Vasho! Don’t play the fool!” he said, sternly. “What ails -you? Are you afraid? Look before you, man!--there is no change in -the outline of that figure--it is merely in a condition of suspended -animation. If she were dead--understand me!--_she would not be there at -all_! The stretcher would be empty! Come,--I want your help with these -pulleys.” - -Vasho, striving to steady his trembling limbs, went to his imperious -master’s assistance as the pulleys were unlocked and released. - -“Now, gently!” said Dimitrius. “Let the ropes go easy--and pull -evenly!” - -They worked together, and gradually--with a smooth, swaying, noiseless -movement,--the canopied couch with its motionless occupant was swung -away from the Wheel across the water and laid at their feet. The canopy -itself sparkled all over as with millions of small diamonds,--and as -they raised and turned it back, curled in their hands and twisted like -a live thing. A still brighter luminance shone from end to end of the -closely bound and swathed figure beneath it,--a figure rigid as stone, -yet though so rigid, uncannily expressive of hidden life. Dimitrius -knelt down beside it and began to unfasten the close wrappings in -which it was so fast imprisoned, from the feet upwards, signing to -Vasho to assist him. Each one of the glistening white silken bands was -hot to the touch, and as it was unwound, cast out little sparks and -pellets of fire. The widest of these was folded over and over across -the breast, binding in the arms and hands, and as this was undone, the -faintest stir of the body was perceptible. At last Dimitrius uncovered -the face and head--and then--both he and Vasho sprang up and started -back, amazed and awestruck. Never a lovelier thing could be found on -earth than the creature which lay so passively before them,--a young -girl of beauty so exquisite that it hardly seemed human. The goddess of -a poet’s dream might be so imagined, but never a mere thing of flesh -and blood. And as they stood, staring at the marvel, the alabaster -whiteness of the flesh began to soften and flush with roseate hues,--a -faint sigh parted the reddening lips, the small, childlike hands, -hitherto lying limp on either side, were raised as though searching for -something in the air,--and then, slowly, easefully, and with no start -of surprise or fear, Diana awoke from her long trance and stretched -herself lazily, smiled, sat up for a moment, her hair falling about -her in an amber shower, and finally stepped from her couch and stood -erect, a vision of such ethereal fairness and youthful queenliness that -all unconscious of his own action, Dimitrius sank on his knees in a -transport of admiration, whispering: - -“My triumph! My work! My wonder of the world!” - -She, meanwhile, with the questioning air of one whose surroundings are -utterly unfamiliar, surveyed him in his kneeling attitude as though he -were a stranger. Drawing herself up and pushing back the wealth of hair -that fell about her, she spoke in the exquisitely musical voice that -was all her own, though it seemed to have gained a richer sweetness. - -“Why do you kneel?” she asked. “Are you my servant?” - -For one flashing second he was tempted to answer: - -“Your master!” - -But there was something in the stateliness of her attitude and the -dignity of her bearing that checked this bold utterance on his lips, -and he replied: - -“Your slave!--if so you will it!” - -A smile of vague surprise crossed her features. - -“Remind me how I came here,” she said. “There is something I cannot -recall. I have been so much in the light and this place is very dark. -You are a friend, I suppose--are you not?” - -A chilly touch of dread overcame him. His experiment had failed, if -despite its perfection of physical result, the brain organisation was -injured or destroyed. She talked at random, and with a lost air, as if -she had no recollection of any previous happenings. - -“Surely I am your friend!” he said, rising from his knees and -approaching her more nearly. “You remember me?--Féodor Dimitrius?” - -She passed one hand across her brow. - -“Dimitrius?--Féodor Dimitrius?” she repeated,--then suddenly she -laughed,--a clear bright laugh like that of a happy child--“Of course! -I know you now--and I know my self. I am Diana May,--Diana May who -was the poor unloved old spinster with wrinkles round her eyes and -‘feelings’ in her stupidly warm heart!--but _she_ is dead! _I_ live!” - -She lifted her arms, the silver sheen of her mysterious gleaming -garment falling back like unfurled wings. - -“I live!” she repeated. “I am the young Diana!--the old Diana is dead!” - -Her arms dropped to her sides again, and she turned to Dimitrius with a -bewitching smile. - -“And you love me!” she said. “You love me as all men must love -me!--even _he_ loves me!” and she pointed playfully to Vasho, cowering -in fear as far back in a shadowy corner as he could, out of the arrowy -glances of her lovely eyes,--then, laughing softly again, she gathered -her robe about her with a queenly air. “Come, Dr. Féodor Dimitrius! Let -us go! I see by the way you look at me that you think your experiment -has been too much for my brain, but you are mistaken. I am quite clear -in memory and consciousness. You are the scientist who advertised for -‘a woman of mature years,’--I am Diana May who was ‘mature’ enough to -answer you, and came from London to Geneva on the chance of suiting -you,--I have submitted to all your commands, and here I am!--a success -for you, I suppose, but a still greater success for myself! I do not -know what has happened since I came into this laboratory a while -ago--nor am I at all curious,--was that my coffin!” - -She indicated the stretcher with its white canopy from which she had -arisen. He was about to answer her, when she stopped him. - -“No, tell me nothing! Say it is my chrysalis, from which I have broken -out--a butterfly!” She smiled--“Look at poor Vasho! How frightened he -seems! Let us leave this place,--surely we have had enough of it? Come, -Dr. Dimitrius!--it’s all over! You have done with me and I with you. -Take me to my rooms!” - -Her air and tone of command were not to be gainsaid. Amazed and angry -at his own sudden sense of inferiority and inefficiency, Dimitrius -signed to the trembling Vasho to open the door of the laboratory, -and held out his hand to Diana to guide her. She looked at him -questioningly. - -“Must I?” she asked. “You are quite enough in love with me -already!--but if you take my hand----!” - -Her eyes, brilliant and provocative, flashed disdainfully into his. He -strove to sustain his composure. - -“You are talking very foolishly,” he said, with studied harshness. “If -you wish to convince me that you are the same Diana May who has shown -such resolute courage and modesty, and--and--such obedience to my will, -you must express yourself more reasonably.” - -Her light laugh rippled out again. - -“Oh, but I am _not_ the same Diana May!” she answered. “You have -altered all that. I was old, and a woman,--now I am young, and a -goddess!” - -He started back, amazed at her voice and attitude. - -“A goddess--a goddess!” she repeated, triumphantly. “Young with a youth -that shall not change--alive with a life that shall not die! Out of -the fire and the air I have absorbed the essence of all beauty and -power!--what shall trouble me? Not the things of this little querulous -world!--not its peevish men and women!--I am above them all! Féodor -Dimitrius, your science has gathered strange fruit from the Tree of -Life, but remember!--the Flaming Sword turns _every_ way!” - -He gazed at her in speechless wonderment. She had spoken with -extraordinary force and passion, and now stood confronting him as -an angel might have stood in the Garden of Paradise. Her beauty was -overwhelming--almost maddening in its irresistible attraction, and his -brain whirled like a mote in a ring of fire. He stretched out his hands -appealingly: - -“Diana!” he half whispered--“Diana, you are mine!--my sole creation!” - -“Not so,” she replied. “You blaspheme! Nothing is yours. You have used -the forces of Nature to make me what I am,--but I am Nature’s product, -and Nature is not always kind! Let us go!” - -She moved towards the door. Vasho stood ready to open it, his eyes -cast down, and his limbs trembling,--as she approached she smiled -kindly at him, but the poor negro was too scared to look at her. He -swung the portal upward, and she passed through the opening. Dimitrius -followed, not venturing to offer his hand a second time. He merely gave -instructions to Vasho to set the laboratory in order and remove every -trace of his “experiment,”--then kept close beside the erect, slight, -graceful figure in the shining garment that glided along with unerring -steps through the corridor into the familiar hall, where for a moment, -Diana paused. - -“Is your mother well?” she asked. - -“Quite well.” - -“I am glad. You will prepare her to see me to-morrow?” - -“I will!” - -She passed on, up the staircase, and went straight to her own rooms. It -was plain she had forgotten nothing, and that she had all her senses -about her. As Dimitrius threw open the door of her little _salon_ she -turned on the threshold and fully confronted him. - -“Thank you!” she said. “I hope you are satisfied that your experiment -has succeeded?” - -He was pale to the lips, and his eyes glowed with suppressed fire,--but -he answered calmly: - -“I am more than satisfied if--if you are well!” - -“I am very well,” she replied, smiling. “I shall never be ill. You -ought to know that if you believe in your own discovery. You ought to -know that I am no longer made of mortal clay, ‘subject to all the ills -that flesh is heir to.’ Your science has filled me with another and -more lasting form of life!” - -He was silent, standing before her with head bent, like some disgraced -school-boy. - -“Good-night!” she said, then, in a gentler tone--“I do not know how -long I have been the companion of your ‘Ordeal by Fire!’--I suppose I -ought to be hungry and thirsty, but I am not. To breathe has been to me -sufficient nourishment--yet for the sake of appearances you had better -let Vasho--poor frightened Vasho!--bring me food as usual. I shall be -ready for him in an hour.” - -She motioned him away, and closed the door. As she disappeared, a light -seemed to vanish with her and the dark entresol grew even darker. He -went downstairs in a maze of bewilderment, dazzled by her beauty and -conscious of her utter indifference,--and stood for a moment at the -open door of the loggia, looking out at the still, dark loveliness of -the summer evening. - -“And so it is finished!” he said to himself. “All over! A completed -triumph and marvel of science! But--what have I made of her? _She is -not a woman!_ Then--_what_ is she?” - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - -While Dimitrius thus perplexed himself with a psychological question -for which he could find no satisfactory answer, Diana was happily free -from doubts and fears of any kind whatsoever. When she found herself -alone in her rooms she was conscious of a strange sense of sovereignty -and supremacy which, though it was in a manner new to her, yet did not -seem unnatural. She was not in the least conscious of having passed -four days, practically, in a state of suspended animation, no more, -perhaps, than is the Indian fakir who suffers himself to be buried in -the earth for a sufficient time to allow the corn to grow over him. She -looked about her, recognising certain familiar objects which were her -own, and others which belonged to the Dimitrius household,--she touched -the piano lightly as she passed it,--glanced through the open window -at the dusky, starlit skies, and then went into her bedroom, where, -turning on the electric burner, she confronted herself in the mirror -with a smile. Beauty smiled back at her in every line and curve, in -every movement; and she criticised her own appearance as she might have -criticised a picture, admiring the sheeny softness and sparkle of the -mysterious garment in which she was arrayed. But after a few moments of -this quiet self-contemplation, she recollected more mundane things, and -going to the wardrobe, took out the rose-pink wrap Sophy Lansing had -given her. - -“I wonder,” she said, half laughing, “what Sophy would say to me now! -But, after all, what a far-away person Sophy seems!” - -Standing before the mirror she deliberately let the shining “robe of -ordeal” slip from her body to the floor. Nude as a pearl, she remained -for a moment, gazing, as she knew, at the loveliest model of feminine -perfection ever seen since the sculptor of the Venus de Medici wrought -his marble divinity. Yet she was not surprised or elated; no touch of -vanity or self-complacency moved her. The astonishing part of the whole -matter was that it seemed quite natural to her to be thus beautiful; -beauty had become part of her existence, like the simple act of -breathing, and called for no special personal notice. She slipped on -a few garments, covering all with her rose-silk wrapper, and twisted -up her hair. And so she was clothed again as Diana May,--but what a -different Diana May! She heard Vasho moving in the sitting-room, and -looking, saw that he was setting out a dainty little table with game -and fruit and wine. He caught sight of her fair face watching him from -the half-open door which divided bedroom from sitting-room, and paused, -abashed--then made a sort of Eastern salutation, full of the most -abject humility. - -“Poor Vasho!” she said, advancing. “How strange that you should be so -afraid of me! What do you take me for? You must not be afraid!” - -No goddess, suddenly descending from the skies to earth, could have -looked more royally beneficent than she, and Vasho made rapid signs of -entire devotion to her service. - -“No,” she said--“You are your master’s man. He will need your -help--when I am gone!” - -The negro’s countenance expressed a sudden dismay--and she laughed. - -“Yes--when I am gone!” she repeated, “and that will be very soon! I am -made for all the world now!” - -His eyes rolled despairingly,--he made eloquent and beseeching signs of -appeal. - -“You will be sorry?” she said. “Yes--I daresay you will! Now go -along,--they want you downstairs. It is foolish to be sorry for -anything.” - -She smiled at him as he backed from her presence, looking utterly -miserable, and disappeared. Left alone, she touched a glass of wine -with her lips, but quickly set it down. - -“What a curious taste!” she said. “I used to like it,--I don’t like it -at all now. I’m not thirsty and I’m not hungry. I want nothing. It’s -enough for me to breathe!” - -She moved slowly up and down with an exquisite floating grace, a -perfect vision of imperial beauty, her rose-red “rest gown” with its -white fur lining trailing about her; and presently, sitting down by -the open window, she inhaled the warm summer air, and after a while -watched the moon rise through a foam of white cloud, which seemed to -have sprayed itself sheer down from the Alpine snows. Her thoughts were -clear; her consciousness particularly active,--and, with a kind of new -self-possession and intellectuality, she took herself, as it were, -mentally to pieces, and examined each section of herself as under a -psychological microscope. - -“Let me be quite sure of my own identity,” she said, half aloud. “I am -Diana May--and yet I am not Diana May! I have lost the worn old shell -of my former personality, and I have found another personality which -is not my own, and yet somehow is the real Me!--the Me for whom I have -been searching and crying ever since I could search and cry!--the Me -I have dreamed of as rising in the shape of a Soul from my dead body! -I am clothed with a life vesture made of strange and imperishable -stuff,--I cannot begin to describe or understand it, except as an -organisation free from all pain and grossness--and what is more -positive still--free from all feeling!” - -She paused here, interested in the puzzle of her thoughts. Raising her -eyes, she looked out at the divine beauty of the night. - -“Yes,” she went on musing--“That is the strangest part of it!--I have -_no_ feeling. This is the work of science--therefore my condition -will be within reach of all who care to accept it. I look out at the -garden,--the moonlight,--but not as I used to look. _They_ have no -feeling, and seem just a natural part of myself. They do not move me to -any more sensation than the recognition that they live as I do, _with_ -me and _for_ me. If I can get hold of myself at all surely, I think my -chief consciousness is that of power,--power, with no regard for its -exercise or result.” - -She waited again, disentangling her mind from all clinging or vague -recollections. - -“This man, Féodor Dimitrius, interested me at one time,” she said. -“His utter selfishness and callous absorption in his own studies moved -me almost to pain. Now he does not interest me at all. His mother is -kind,--very simple--very stupid and well-meaning--but I could not stay -with her for long. Who else must I remember?” - -Suddenly she laughed. - -“Pa and Ma!” she exclaimed--“I must not forget _them_! Those dear, -respectable parents of mine, who only cared for me as long as I was -an interesting object to _themselves_, and found me ‘in the way’ -when their interest ceased! Flighty Pa! Wouldn’t he just love to be -rejuvenated and turned out as a sort of new Faustus, amorous and -reckless of everybody’s feelings--but his own! Oh, yes, I mustn’t -forget Pa! I’m young enough to wear white now!--I’ll go and see him as -soon as I get back to England--before Ma’s best mourning gown grows -rusty!” She laughed again, the most enchanting dimples lightening her -face as mirth radiated from her lips and eyes--then all at once she -became serious, almost stern, and stood up as though lifted erect by -some thought which impelled action. One hand clenched involuntarily. - -“Captain the Honourable Reginald Cleeve!” she said, in slow tones -of emphatic scorn--“Especially the Honourable! I must not forget -_him_!--or his fat wife!--or his appallingly hideous and stupid -children! I must look at them all!--and not only must I look at -_them_--they must look at _me_!” - -Her hand relaxed,--her eyes, limpid and lustrous, turned again towards -the open window and moonlit summer night. - -“Yet--is vengeance worth while?” she mused--“Vengeance on a mote--a -worm--a low soul such as that of the man I once almost worshipped? -Yes!--the gods know it _is_ worth while to punish a liar and traitor! -When the world becomes unclean and full of falsehood a great war is -sent to purge its foulness,--when a man destroys a life’s happiness it -is just that his own happiness should also be destroyed.” - -She had come to the conclusion of her meditations, and seeing the hour -was ten o’clock, she opened her door and put the untouched little -supper-table with all its delicacies outside in the entresol to be -cleared away; then locking herself in for the night, prepared to go -to bed. It was now that a sudden thrill of doubt quivered through her -beautiful “new” organisation,--the nervous idea that perhaps she would -not be able to pray! She took herself severely to task for this thought. - -“All things are of God!” she said, aloud--“Whatever science has made of -me I can be nothing without His will. To Him belong the sun and air, -the light and fire!--to Him also _I_ belong, and to Him I may render -thanks without fear.” - -She knelt down and uttered the familiar “Our Father” in slow, soft -tones of humility and devotion. To anyone who could have watched her -praying thus, she would have seemed - - “A splendid angel newly drest - Save wings, for heaven!” - -And when she laid her head on her pillow she fell asleep as sweetly as -a young child, her breathing as light, her dreamless unconsciousness as -perfect. - -The morning found her refreshed by her slumber, stronger and more -self-possessed than before; and when clad in her ordinary little white -batiste gown she looked, as indeed she was bodily, if not mentally, a -mere slip of a girl,--a lovely girl, slender as a rod and fair as a -lily, radiating in every expression and movement with an altogether -extraordinary beauty. After the breakfast hour came Madame Dimitrius, -eager, curious, affectionate;--but at first sight of her, stood as -though rooted to the floor, and began to tremble so violently that -Diana put an arm about her to save her from falling. But, with a white, -scared face and repelling hand, the old woman pushed her aside. - -“Do not touch me, please!” she said, in feeble, quavering tones--“I--I -did not expect this! I was prepared for much--but not this!--this -is devil’s work! Oh, my son, my son! He is possessed by the powers -of evil!--may God deliver him! No, no!”--this, as Diana, with her -beautiful smile of uplifted sweetness and tolerance, strove to -speak--“Nothing you can say will alter it! It is impossible that such a -thing could be done without rebellion against the laws of God! You--you -are not Diana May--you are some other creature, not made of flesh and -blood!” - -Diana heard her with a gentle patience. - -“Very possibly you are right,” she said, quietly. “But whatever I am -made of must be some of God’s own material, since there is nothing -existent without Him! Why, even if there is a devil, the devil himself -cannot exist apart from God!” - -Madame Dimitrius uttered a pained cry, and then began to sob -hysterically. - -“Oh, do not speak to me, do not speak to me!” she wailed. “My son, -my son! My Féodor! His soul is the prey of some evil spirit--and -it seems to me as if you are that spirit’s form and voice! You are -beautiful--but not with merely a woman’s beauty!--his science has -called some strange power to him--_you_ are that power!--you will be -his doom!” She wrung her hands nervously, and moaning, “Let me go!--let -me go!” turned to leave the room. - -Diana stood apart, making no effort to detain her. A look of wondering -compassion filled her lovely eyes. - -“Poor woman!” she breathed, softly. “Poor weak, worn soul!” - -Then suddenly she spoke aloud in clear, sweet, decisive tones. - -“Dear Madame,” she said--“you distress yourself without cause! You -need not be afraid of me,--I will do you no harm! As for your son, -his fate is in his own hands; he assumes to be master of it. I shall -not interfere with him or with you,--for now I shall leave you both -for ever! I have submitted myself to his orders,--I have been his -paid ‘subject,’ and he cannot complain of any want of obedience on my -part,--his experiment has succeeded. Nothing therefore now remains for -me to do here, and he has no further need of me. I promise you I will -go as quickly as I can!--and if, as you say, I am not human, why so -much the worse for humanity!” - -She smiled, and her attitude and expression were royally triumphant. -Madame Dimitrius had reached the door of the apartment, and with her -hand leaning against it turned back to look at her in evident terror. -Then she essayed to speak again. - -“I am sorry,” she faltered--“if I seem strange and harsh--but--but you -are not Diana May--not the woman I knew! She had grown younger and -prettier under my son’s treatment--but you!--you are a mere girl!--and -I feel--I know you are not, you cannot be human!” - -A light of something like scorn flashed from Diana’s eyes. - -“Is humanity so valuable!” she asked. - -But this question was more than enough for Madame Dimitrius. With a -shuddering exclamation of something like utter despair, she hurriedly -opened the door, and stumbled blindly out into the corridor, there to -be caught in the arms of her son, who was coming to Diana’s rooms. - -“Why, mother!” he ejaculated--“what is this?” - -Diana stood at her half-open door, looking at them both like a young -angel at the gate of paradise. - -“Your mother is frightened of me,” she explained gently. “She says I am -not human. I daresay that’s very likely! But do try and comfort her, -and tell her that I have no evil intentions towards her or you. And -that I am going away as soon as you will allow me to do so.” - -His brows contracted. - -“Mother,” he said reproachfully, “is this how you keep your promise -to me? I gave you my confidence--you see the full success of my great -experiment--and yet you reward me thus?” - -She clung to him desperately. - -“Féodor!--Féodor!” she cried--“My son,--my only child! You shall not -blame me,--me, your mother! I love you, Féodor!--and love teaches many -things! Oh, my son!--you have drawn from your science something that is -not of this world!--something that has no feeling--no emotion!--this -creature of your making is not Diana!” - -As she spoke her face grew livid,--she beat the air with her feeble -old hands, as though she fought some invisible foe, and fell in a dead -faint. - -Quickly Dimitrius lifted her in his arms, and laid her on the sofa in -Diana’s sitting-room. Diana came to his aid, and deftly and tenderly -bathed her forehead and hands with cool water. When she showed signs of -returning consciousness Diana said whisperingly: - -“I will go now! She must not be frightened again--she must not see me -when she wakes. You understand? Poor, dear old lady! She imagines I am -not human, and she has told me I shall be your doom!” She smiled. “Do -you think I shall?” - -Her loveliness shone upon him like a light too brilliant to endure. -His heart beat furiously, but he would not look at her,--he bent -his head over his mother’s passive figure, busying himself with -restoratives,--and answered nothing. - -She waited a minute,--then added--“You will arrange for my leaving here -as soon as possible? After what she has said, it will be best for your -mother that I should go at once.” - -Then, and then only, he lifted his dark eyes,--they were sad and -strained. - -“I will arrange everything,” he said. “No doubt the sooner we part, the -better!” - -She smiled again,--then moved swiftly away into her bedroom and locked -the door. Slowly Madame Dimitrius recovered and looked around her with -an alarmed expression. - -“She has gone?” - -“Yes,” her son replied, with a bitterness he could not restrain. “She -has gone!--and she will go! You have driven away the loveliest thing -ever seen on earth! _my_ creation! Through you she will leave me -altogether--and yet you say you love me!” - -“I do! I do love you!” cried his mother, weeping. “Féodor, Féodor, I -love you as no other can or will! I love you, and by my love I claim -your soul! I claim it from the powers of evil!--I claim it for God!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - - -The swiftness and silence of Diana’s departure from the Château -Fragonard was of an almost uncanny nature. There were no affectionate -leave-takings,--and she made no attempt to see Madame Dimitrius, who, -thoroughly unnerved and ill, remained in her bedroom,--nor would -she permit of any escort to the station, or “seeing off” by way of -farewell. She simply left the house, having packed and labelled her own -luggage to be sent after her,--and walked quietly with Dr. Dimitrius, -through the lovely gardens all in their summer beauty, to the private -gate opening out to the high road, from whence it was an easy ten -minutes to the station. He was very silent, and his usual composure had -entirely deserted him. - -“I cannot part with you like this,” he said, in low, nervous tones, as -she gave him her hand in “good-bye.” “As soon as my mother recovers -from this strange breakdown of hers, I shall follow you. I must see you -again----” - -She smiled. - -“Must you?” - -“Of course I must! I am deeply grateful to you,--do not think I can -forget your patience--your courage----” He paused, deeply moved. “I -hate the idea of your travelling all alone to London!” - -“Why?” she asked, in an amused tone--“I came all alone!” - -“Yes--but it was different----” - -“You mean I looked ‘mature,’ then?” she laughed. “Oh, well! Nobody will -interfere with a girl returning home from school in Geneva!” - -A pained smile crossed his face. - -“Yes!--you can play that part very well!” he admitted. “But you cannot -live alone without someone to look after you!” - -She gave a light gesture of indifference. - -“No? Well, I will get some dear old lady ‘in reduced circumstances’ -to do that. There are so many of them--all with excellent references. -Someone about my own age would do,--for after all, I’m over forty!” - -He uttered an exclamation of impatience. - -“Why will you say that?” - -“Because it’s true!” she replied. “According to this planet’s time. -But”--here her eyes flashed with a strange and almost unearthly -lustre--“there are other planets--other countings! And by these, I -am--well!--what I am!” - -He looked at her in mingled doubt and wonder. - -“Diana!” he said, entreatingly--“Will you not trust me?” - -“In what way?” she asked, with sudden coldness--“What trust do you -seek?” - -“Listen!” he went on eagerly--“My science has worked its will upon -you, with the most amazing success--but there is something beyond my -science--something which baffles me,--which I cannot fathom! It is in -you, yourself--you have learned what I have failed to learn,--you know -what I do not know!” - -A smile suddenly irradiated her lovely face,--so might an angel smile -in giving a benediction. - -“I am glad you realise that!” she said, quietly--“For it is true! But -what I have learned--what I know--I cannot explain to myself or impart -to others.” - -He stood amazed,--not so much at her words as at her manner of uttering -them. It was the unapproachable, ethereal dignity of her attitude and -expression that awed and held him in check. - -“You would not understand or believe it possible,” she went on, “even -if I tried to put into words what is truly a wordless existence, apart -from you altogether,--apart not only from you, but from all merely -human things----” - -“Ah!” he interrupted quickly--“That is just the point. You say ‘merely’ -human, as if you had passed beyond humanity!” - -She looked at him steadily. - -“Humanity thinks too much of itself,” she said, slowly. “Its -petty ambitions,--its miserable wars,--its greed of gain and love -of cruelty!--what is it worth without the higher soul! In this -universe--even in this planet, humanity is not all! There are other -forces--other forms--but--as I have said, I cannot explain myself, and -it is time to say good-bye. I am glad I have been of use in helping you -to succeed in what you sought to do; and now I suppose you will make -millions of money by your ability to re-establish life and youth. And -will that make you happy, I wonder?” - -His face grew stern and impassive. - -“I do not seek happiness,” he said--“Not for myself. I hope to make -happiness for others. Yet truly I doubt whether happiness is possible -in this world, except for children and fools.” - -“And sorrow?” she queried. - -“Sorrow waits on us hand and foot,” he replied--“There is no condition -exempt from it.” - -“Except mine!” she said, smiling. “I am relieved of both sorrow and -joy--I never seem to have known either! I am as indifferent to both as -a sunbeam! Good-bye!” - -He held her hand, and his dark eyes searched her lovely face as though -looking for a gleam of sympathy. - -“Good-bye!” he rejoined--“But not for long! Remember that! Those whom -you knew in England will not recognise you now,--you will have many -difficulties, and you may need a friend’s counsel--I shall follow you -very soon!” - -“Why should you?” she asked, lightly. His grasp on her hand tightened -unconsciously. - -“Because I must!” he answered, passionately. “Don’t you see? You draw -me like a magnet!--and I cannot resist following my own exquisite -creation!” - -She released her hand with a decided movement. - -“You mistake!” she said--“I am not your creation. You, of yourself, -can create nothing. I am only a result of your science which you never -dreamed of!--which you could not foresee!--and which you will never -master! Good-bye!” - -She left him at once with this word, despite his last entreating call, -“Diana!” and passing through the private gate to the high road, so -disappeared. Like a man in a trance, he stood watching till the last -glimpse of her dress had vanished--then, with a mist of something like -tears in his eyes, he realised that a sudden blank loneliness had -fallen upon him like a cloud. - -“Something I shall never master!” he repeated, as he went slowly -homeward. “If woman I shall!--but if not----” - -And here he checked his thoughts, not daring to pursue them further. - -So they parted,--he more bewildered and troubled by the “success” of -his experiment than satisfied,--while she, quite unconscious of any -particular regret or emotion, started on her journey to England. Never -had she received so much attention, and the eagerness displayed by -every man she met to wait upon her and assist her in some way or other, -amused her while it aroused a certain scorn. - -“It is only looks that move them!” she said to herself. “The same old -tale!--Youth and beauty!--and never a care whether I am a good or an -evil thing! And yet one is asked to ‘respect’ men!” - -She went on her way without trouble. The _chef de gare_ at Geneva -was full of gentle commiseration at the idea of so young and lovely -a creature travelling alone, and placed her tenderly, as though she -were a hot-house lily to be carried “with care,” in a first-class -compartment of “Dames Seules” where a couple of elderly ladies received -her graciously, with motherly smiles, and remarked that she was “very -young to travel alone.” She deprecated their attention with becoming -grace--but said very little. She looked at their wrinkles and baggy -throats, and wondered, whether, if they knew of Dr. Dimitrius and went -to him, he could ever make them young and beautiful again? It seemed -impossible,--they were too far gone! They were travelling to London, -however; and she cheerfully accepted their kindly proposal that she -should make the journey in their company. On the way through Paris she -wrote a brief letter to Sophy Lansing, saying that she would call and -see her as soon after arrival in London as possible, and adding as a -postscript: “I have changed very much in my appearance, but I hope you -will still know me as your friend, Diana.” - -The two ladies with whom chance or fate had thrown her in company, -turned out to be of the “old” English aristocracy, and were very -simple, gently-mannered women who had for many years been intimate -friends. They were both widows; their children were grown up and -married, and many reverses of fortune, with loss of kindred, had -but drawn them more closely together. Every year they took little -inexpensive holidays abroad, and they were returning home now after -one of these spent at Aix-les-Bains. They were fascinated by the -extraordinary beauty of the girl they had volunteered to chaperon, and, -privately to one another, thought and said she ought to wear a veil. -For no man saw her without seeming suddenly “smitten all of a heap,” -as the saying is,--and, after one or two embarrassing experiences at -various stations _en route_, where certain of these “smitten” had not -scrupled to walk up and down the platform outside their compartment -just to look at the fair creature within, one of the worthy dames -suggested, albeit timidly, that perhaps--only perhaps!--a veil might -be advisable?--as they were soon going across the sea--and the rough -salt wind and spray were so bad for the complexion! Diana smiled. She -understood. And for the rest of the journey she tied up her beautiful -head and face in American fashion with an uncompromising dark blue -motor veil through which hardly the tip of her nose could be seen. - -They crossed the Channel at night, and breakfasted together at Dover. -Once in the train bound for London, Diana’s companions sought tactfully -to find out who she was. Something quite indefinable and unusual about -her gave them both a touch of “nerves.” She seemed removed and aloof -from life’s ordinary things, though her manner was perfectly simple and -natural. She gave her name quite frankly and added that she was quite -alone in the world. - -“I have one friend,--Miss Sophy Lansing,” she said--“You may have heard -of her. She is a leading Suffragette and a very clever writer. I am -going to her now.” - -The ladies glanced at each other and smiled. - -“Yes,--we have heard of her,” said one. “But I hope she will not make -_you_ a Suffragette! Life has much better fortune in store for you than -that!” - -“You think so?”--and Diana shrugged her graceful shoulders -indifferently--“Anyway, I am not interested in political matters at -all. They are always small and quarrelsome,--like the buzzing of midges -on a warm day!” - -One of her companions now took out her card-case. - -“Do come and see me in town!” she said kindly--“I should be very glad -if you would. I live a very quiet hum-drum life and seldom see any -young people.” - -Diana smiled as she accepted the card. - -“Thank you so much!” she murmured,--seeing at a glance the name and -address “Lady Elswood, Chester Square,” and thinking how easy it was -for youth and beauty to find friends--“I will certainly come.” - -“And don’t forget _me_!” said the other lady--“I live just round the -corner,--only a few steps from Lady Elswood’s house, so you can come -and see me also.” - -Diana expressed her acknowledgment by a look, reading on the second -card now proffered: “Mrs. Gervase,” and the address indicated. - -“I will!” she said, and yet in her own mind she felt that these two -good-natured women were the merest shadows to her consciousness, and -that she had not the remotest idea of going to visit them at any time. - -London reached, they parted,--and Diana, taking a taxi-cab and -claiming her modest luggage from the Custom-house officials, was -driven straight to Sophy Lansing’s flat in Mayfair, which she had left -under such different circumstances close on a year ago. Miss Lansing -was in, said the servant who opened the door,--and Diana had hardly -waited in the drawing-room five minutes, when there was a rush of -garments and quick feet and Sophy herself appeared. But at the door she -stopped--transfixed. - -“There’s some mistake,” she said at once--“You must have come to the -wrong flat. I expected a friend,--Miss May. You are not Miss May.” - -Diana held out both hands. - -“Sophy, don’t you know me?” she said, smiling--“_Won’t_ you know me? -Surely you recognise my voice? I told you in my letter from Paris that -I was changed--I thought you would understand----” - -But Sophy stood mute and bewildered, her back against the door by -which she had just entered. For half a minute she felt she knew the -sweet thrill of the voice that was Diana’s special gift,--but when -she looked at the exquisite girlish beauty of the--the “person” who -had intruded upon her, as she thought, on false pretences, she was -unreasonably annoyed, her annoyance arising, though she would never -have admitted it, from a helpless consciousness of her own inferiority -in attractiveness. - -“Nonsense!” she said, sharply. “Whoever you are, you can’t take _me_ -in! _My_ friend is a middle-aged woman,--older than I am--you are a -mere girl! Do you think I don’t know the difference? Please leave my -house!” - -At these words, a delightful peal of lilting laughter broke from -Diana’s lips. Sophy stared, indignant and speechless, while Diana -slipped off a watch bracelet from her slender wrist. - -“Very well, dear!” she said. “If you don’t want to know me, you shan’t! -Here is the little watch you lent me when I went away last year--after -I was drowned, you remember?--in place of my own which I’m glad to see -you are wearing. You know I took up a position with the Dr. Féodor -Dimitrius whose advertisement you sent me,--he wanted me to help him -in a scientific experiment. Well!--I did,--and I am the result of his -work. I see you don’t believe me, so I’ll go. I told the taxi-man to -wait. I’m so sorry you won’t have me!” - -Sophy Lansing listened amazed and utterly incredulous. That voice--that -sweet laughter--they had a familiar ring; but the youthful features, -the exquisite complexion of clear cream and rose--these were no part of -the Diana she had known, and she shook her head obstinately. - -“You may have met my friend in Geneva,” she said, stiffly. “But how you -got my watch from her, I am at a loss to imagine--unless she lent it to -you to travel with. You look to me like a run-away schoolgirl playing a -practical joke. But whoever you are, you are not Diana May.” - -Smilingly Diana laid the watch she had taken off down on the table. - -“Very well, I will leave this here,” she said. “It is yours,--and -when I am gone it will help you to remember and think over all the -circumstances. You had my letter from Paris?” - -“I had _a_ letter,” replied Sophy, coldly, “from my friend, Miss May.” - -Diana laughed again. - -“I wrote it,” she said. “How droll it seems that you should know -my handwriting and not know me! And I thought you would be so -pleased!--you, who said I was going to be ‘a wonderful creature,’ and -that ‘Cinderella should go to the Prince’s Ball!’ And now you won’t -recognise me!--it’s just as if you were ‘jealous because I’m pretty!’ -I may as well explain before I go, that Dr. Dimitrius, for whom I’ve -been working all the year, is one of those scientific ‘cranks’ who -think they can restore lost youth, create beauty and prolong life--like -Faust, you know! He wanted a subject to practise upon,--and as I was no -earthly use to anyone, he took _me_! And he’s turned me out as you see -me--all new and fresh as the morning! And I believe I shall last a long -while!” - -But here Sophy Lansing uttered a half suppressed scream. - -“Go away!” she gasped--“You--you are a mad girl! You’ve escaped from -some asylum!--I’m sure you have!” - -With swift dignity Diana drew herself up and gazed full and pitifully -at her quondam friend. - -“Poor Sophy!” she said--“I’m sorry for you! I thought you had more -character--more self-control! I am not mad--I am far saner than you -are. I have told you the truth--and one more thing I can tell you--that -I have lost all power to be hurt or offended or disappointed, so you -need not think your failure to believe me or your loss of friendship -causes me the least pain! I have gone beyond all that. You are keeping -the door closed,--will you let me pass?” - -Really frightened and trembling violently, Sophy Lansing moved -cautiously to one side, and as cautiously opened the door. Her scared -eyes followed every movement of the graceful, aerial girl-figure which -professed to be Diana’s, and she shrank away from the brilliant glance -of the heavenly dark blue eyes that rested upon her with such almost -angelic compassion. She heard a softly breathed “Good-bye!” and a -gentle sweep of garments, then--a pause, and Diana was gone. She rushed -to the window. Yes,--there was the taxi waiting,--another minute, and -she saw her girl visitor enter it. The vehicle soon disappeared, its -noisy grind and whir being rapidly lost in the roar of the general -traffic. - -“It was not--it could not have been Diana!” almost sobbed Sophy to -herself. “I felt--oh, yes!--I felt it was something not quite human!” - -Then, turning to the table where the watch-bracelet had been left, she -took it up. It was indubitably her bracelet, with her monogram in small -rubies and diamonds on the back of the watch. She had certainly lent -it--almost given it--to Diana, and she herself was wearing Diana’s own -watch which Mr. and Mrs. Polydore May had given her as “a souvenir of -our darling child!” It was all like a wild dream!--where had this girl -come from? - -“She is frightfully beautiful!” exclaimed Sophy at last, in an outburst -of excited feeling--“Simply unearthly! Even if she _were_ Diana, I -could not have her here!--with _me_!--never--never! She would make -me look so old! So plain--so unattractive! But of course she is not -Diana!--no ‘beauty doctor’ could make a woman over forty look like a -girl of eighteen or less! She must be an adventuress of some sort! She -couldn’t be so beautiful unless she were. But she won’t palm herself -off on _me_! My poor old Diana! I wonder what has become of her!” - -Meanwhile “poor old Diana,” somewhat perplexed by the failure of her -friend to accept her changed appearance on trust, was thinking out -the ways and means of her new life. She had plenty of money, for -Dimitrius had placed two thousand pounds to her credit in a London -bank,--a sum which she had no hesitation in accepting, as the price -of her life, risked in his service. The thought now struck her that -she would go to this bank, draw a small cheque, and explain that she -had arrived alone in London, and wished to be recommended to some -good hotel. This proved to be an excellent idea. The manager of the -bank received her in his private office, and, fairly dazzled by her -beauty, placed his friendliest services at her disposal, informing her -that he was a personal friend of Dimitrius, and that he held him in -the highest esteem and honour. To prove his sincerity he personally -escorted her to a quiet private hotel of the highest respectability, -chiefly patronised by “county” ladies “above suspicion.” Here, on his -recommendation, she took a small suite overlooking the Park. Becoming -more and more interested in her youth, loveliness and loneliness, -he listened sympathetically while she mentioned her wish to find -some middle-aged lady of good family who would reside with her as a -chaperone and companion for a suitable annual salary,--and he promised -to exert himself in active search for a person of quality who would be -fitted for the post. He was a good-looking man, and though married, was -susceptible to the charms of the fair sex, and it was with undisguised -reluctance that he at last took his leave of the most beautiful -creature he had ever seen, with many expressions of courtesy, and -commiserating her enforced temporary solitude. - -“I wish I could stay with you!” he said, regardless of convention. - -“I’m sure you do!” answered Diana, sweetly. “Thank you so much! You -have been most kind!” - -A look from the lovely eyes accompanied these simple words which shot -like a quiver of lightning through the nerves of the usually curt, -self-possessed business man, and caused him to stammer confusedly and -move awkwardly as at last he left the room. When he was gone Diana -laughed. - -“They are all alike!” she said--“All worshippers of outward show! -Suppose that good man knew I was over forty? Why, he wouldn’t look at -me!” - -The manageress of the hotel just then entered, bringing the book in -which all hotel visitors registered their names. She was quite a -stately person, attired in black silk, and addressed Diana with a -motherly air, having been told by the bank manager, for whom she had -a great respect, to have good care of her. Diana wrote her name in a -dashing, free hand, putting herself down as a British subject, and -naming Geneva as her last place of residence, when her attention was -arrested by a name three or four lines above that on which she was -writing--and she paused, pen in hand. - -“Are those people staying here?” she asked. - -The manageress looked where she pointed. - -“Captain the Honourable Reginald Cleeve, Mrs. Cleeve, two daughters and -maid,” she said. “Yes--they are here,--they always come here during a -part of the season.” - -Diana finished writing her own inscription and laid down the pen. She -was smiling, and her eyes were so densely blue and brilliant that the -manageress was fairly startled. - -“I will dine in my room this evening,” she said. “I have had a long -journey, and am rather tired. To-morrow, perhaps, I’ll come down to -dinner----” - -“Don’t put yourself out at all about that,” said the manageress, -kindly. “It’s not comfortable for a girl to dine in a room full of -strangers--or perhaps you know Mrs. Cleeve and could sit at her -table----?” - -“No--I do _not_ know Mrs. Cleeve,” said Diana, decidedly--“I’ve seen -her at a charity bazaar and I believe she’s very stout--but I claim no -acquaintance.” - -“She _is_ stout,” agreed the manageress with a smile, as she left the -room. - -Diana stood still, absorbed in thought. Her features were aglow -with some internal luminance,--her whole form was instinct with a -mysteriously radiant vitality. - -“So Destiny plays my game!” she said, half aloud. “On the very first -day of my return to the scene of my poor earthly sorrows I lose an old -friend and find an old lover!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - - -Destiny having apparently taken sides with Diana in her new existence, -she lost no time in availing herself of the varied and curious -entertainment thrown in her way. The first thing she did on the next -day but one of her arrival in London was to attempt a visit to her own -former old home in Richmond, in order to see her “bereaved” parents. A -private automobile from the hotel was supplied for her use at the hour -she named in the afternoon,--an hour when she knew by old experience -her mother would be dozing on the sofa after lunch, and her father -would be in a semi-somnolent condition over the day’s newspaper. As she -passed through the hotel lounge on her way to enter the car, she came -face to face with her quondam lover, Captain the Honourable Reginald -Cleeve, a heavily-built, fairly good-looking man of about fifty or -more. She wondered, as she saw him, what had become of the once rather -refined contour of the features she had formerly admired, and why the -eyes that had “looked love into eyes that spake again” were now so -small and peepy, and half hidden under lids that were red and puffy. -Dressed with a quiet elegance and simplicity, she moved slowly towards -him,--he was lighting a cigar and preparing to go out, but as he caught -sudden sight of her he dropped the lit match with a “By Jove!” stamped -its flame out under his foot, and hastening to the hotel door of exit, -opened it, and, lifting his hat, murmured “Allow me!” with a glance of -undisguised admiration. She bowed slightly and smiled her thanks--her -smile was most enchanting, creating as it were a dazzle of light in -the eyes of those who beheld it,--then she passed out into the street, -where the hotel porter assisted her into her automobile, and watched -her being driven away till she had disappeared. Captain Cleeve strolled -up to the hotel office where the manageress sat at her desk,--he was on -friendly terms with her, and could ask any question he liked. - -“Is that young lady staying here?” he now inquired--“The one who has -just gone out?” - -“Yes. She came two days ago from abroad. A very beautiful girl, is she -not?” - -Cleeve nodded. - -“Rather! I never saw anything like her. Do you know who she is?” - -“Her name is May,--Miss Diana May,” replied the manageress. “She was -recommended here by,--dear me! Is there anything the matter?” - -For Captain the Honourable had gone suddenly white, and as suddenly -become violently red in the face, while he gripped the edge of the -counter against which he leaned as though afraid of falling. - -“No--no!” he answered, impatiently--“It’s nothing! Are you sure that’s -her name?--Diana May?” - -“Quite sure! The manager of our bank brought her here, explaining that -she had just arrived from Switzerland, where she has been educated--I -think--in the house of one of his own friends who lives in Geneva--and -that she was for the present alone in London. He is looking out for a -lady chaperone and companion for her,--she has plenty of money.” - -Cleeve pulled at his moustache nervously--then gave a forced laugh. - -“Curious!” he ejaculated--“I used to know a girl named Diana May years -ago--before--before I was married. Not like this girl--no!--though she -was pretty. I wonder if she’s any relation? I must ask her.” - -“She seemed to know _your_ name when she saw it in our register,” said -the manageress, “for she inquired if you and your family were staying -here. I said ‘Yes’--and ‘did she know Mrs. Cleeve?’--but she replied -that she did not.” - -Captain the Honourable had become absent-minded, and murmured “Oh!” and -“Ah!” as if he were not paying very much attention. He strolled away -and out into the street, with the name “Diana May” ringing in his ears, -and the vision of that exquisitely lovely girl before his eyes. A dull -spark of resentment sprang up in him that he should be a married man -with a wife too stout to tie her own shoes, and the father of children -too plain-featured and ungraceful to be looked at a second time. - -“We are fools to marry at all!” he inwardly soliloquized. “At -fifty-five a man may still be a lover--and lover of a girl, too--when -long before that age a woman is done for!” - -Meanwhile Diana was having adventures of a sufficiently amusing kind, -had she retained the capability of being amused by anything “merely” -human. She arrived at her former old home a little on the outskirts of -Richmond, and bade the driver of her automobile wait at the carriage -gate, preferring to walk up the short distance of the drive to the -house. How familiar and yet unfamiliar that wide sweep of neatly-rolled -gravel was! banked up on each side with rhododendrons, through which -came occasional glimpses of smooth green lawn and beds of summer -flowers! How often she had weeded and watered those beds, when the -gardener went off on a “booze,” as had been his frequent custom, -pretending he had been “called away” by the illness of a near relative! -Pausing on the doorstep of the house she looked around her,--everything -was as it used to be,--the whole place expressing that unctuous pride -and neatness ordinary to the suburban villa adorned by suburban taste. -She rang the bell, and a smart parlour-maid appeared,--not one of the -old “staff” which had been under Diana’s management. - -“Is Mrs. Polydore May in?” she asked. - -The maid perked a saucy head. The dazzling beauty of the visitor -offended her--she had claims to a kind of music-hall prettiness herself. - -“Mrs. May is in, but she’s resting and doesn’t wish to be disturbed,” -she replied--“Unless you’ve some pertikler appointment----” - -“My business is very urgent,” said Diana, calmly. “I am a relative of -hers, just returned from abroad. I must see her--or Mr. May----” - -“Perhaps Miss Preston----” suggested the parlour-maid. - -Diana smiled. Miss Preston! Who was she? A new inmate of the -household?--a companion for “Ma”--and “young” enough for “Pa”? - -“Yes--Miss Preston will do,” she said, and forthwith she was shown into -a shady little morning-room which she well remembered, where she used -to tot up the tradesmen’s books and sort the bills. A saucy-looking -girl with curly brown hair rose from the perusal of a novel and stared -at her inquiringly and superciliously. - -“I have called to see Mrs. May”--she explained “on very particular and -personal business.” - -“What name?” inquired the girl, with a standoffish air. - -“The same as her own. Kindly tell her, please. Miss May.” - -“I really don’t know whether she will see you,” said the girl, -carelessly. “I am her secretary and companion----” - -“So I imagine!” and Diana, without being asked, sank gracefully into -an easy chair, which she remembered as comfortable--“I was also her -secretary and companion--for some time! She knows me very well!” - -“Oh, in that case----But does she expect you?” - -“Hardly!” And Diana smiled. “But I’m sure she’ll be glad to see me. You -are Miss Preston? Yes? Well then, Miss Preston, do please go and tell -her!” - -At that moment, a loud voice called: - -“Lucy! Loo--cee! Where’s my pipe?” - -Diana laughed. - -“The same old voice!” she said. “That’s Mr. May, isn’t it? He’s calling -you--and he doesn’t like being kept waiting, does he?” - -Miss Preston’s face had suddenly flushed very red. - -“I’ll tell Mrs. May,” she stammered, and hurriedly left the room. - -Diana gazed about her on all the little familiar things she had so -often dusted and arranged in their different places. They were all so -vastly removed now in association that they might have been relics -of the Stone Age so far as she was concerned. All at once the door -opened and a reddish face peered in, adorned with a white terrier -moustache--then a rather squat body followed the face and “Pa” stood -revealed. With an affable, not to say engaging air, he said: - -“I beg your pardon! Are you waiting to see anyone?” - -Diana rose, and her exquisite beauty and elegance swept over his little -sensual soul like a simoon. - -“Yes!” she answered, sweetly, while he stared like a man hypnotised--“I -want to see Mrs. May--and _you_!” - -“Me!” he responded, eagerly--“I am only too charmed!” - -“But I had better speak to Mrs. May first,” she continued--“I have -something very strange to tell her about her daughter----” - -“Her daughter! Our daughter! My poor Diana!” And Mr. May immediately -put on the manner of a pious grocer selling short weight--“Our darling -was drowned last summer!--drowned! Drowned while bathing in a dangerous -cove on the Devon coast. Terrible--terrible!--And she was so----” - -“Young?” suggested Diana, sympathetically. - -“No--er--no!--not exactly young!--she was not a girl like -you!--no!--but she was so--so useful--so adaptable! And you have -something strange to tell us about her?--well, why not begin with me?” - -He approached her more closely with a “conquering” smile. She repressed -her inclination to laugh, and said, seriously: - -“No--I really think I had better explain matters to Mrs. May first--and -I should like to be quite alone, please,--without Miss Preston.” - -At that moment Miss Preston returned and said: - -“Mrs. May will see you.” Then, addressing Mr. May, she added: “This -lady says she is some relative of yours--her name is May.” - -Mr. James Polydore’s small grey-green eyes opened as widely as their -lids would allow. - -“A relative?” he repeated. “Surely you are mistaken?--I hardly -think----” - -“Please don’t perplex yourself!” said Diana, sweetly. “I will explain -everything to Mrs. May--she will remember! Can I go to her now?” - -“Certainly!” and Mr. May looked bewildered, but was too much -overwhelmed by his visitor’s queenly air and surpassing loveliness to -collect his wits, or ask any very pressing questions. “Let me show you -the way!” - -He preceded her along the passage to the drawing-room where Mrs. May, -newly risen from the sofa, stood waiting to receive her mysterious -caller,--fatter and flabbier than ever, and attired in an ill-fitting -grey gown with “touches” of black about it by way of the remainder of -a year’s mourning. Diana knew that old grey gown well, and had often -deplored its “cut” and generally hopeless floppiness. - -“Margaret,” announced Mr. May, with a jaunty air--“Here is a very -charming young lady come to see you--Miss May!” Then to Diana: “As -you wish to have a private talk, I’ll leave you, and return in a few -minutes.” - -“Thanks very much!” answered Diana,--and the next moment the door -closed, and she was left alone, with--her mother. No emotion moved -her,--not a shadow of tenderness,--she only just wondered how she ever -came to be born of such a curious-looking person! Mrs. May stared at -her with round, unintelligent eyes like those of a codfish just landed. - -“I have not the--the pleasure----” she began. - -Diana advanced a step or two, holding out her hands. “Don’t you know -me?” she said, at once--“Mother?” - -Mrs. May sidled feebly backwards like a round rickety table on casters, -and nearly fell against the wall. - -“Don’t you know my voice?” went on Diana--“The voice you have heard -talking to you for over forty years?--I am your daughter!--your own -daughter, Diana! I am, indeed. I was not drowned though I let you all -think I was!--I ran away because I was tired of my hum-drum life at -home! I went abroad for a year and I have just come back. Oh, surely -something will tell you I am your own child! A mother’s instinct, you -know!” And she laughed,--a little laugh of chilliest satire. “I have -grown much younger, I know--I will tell you all about that and the -strange way it was done!--but I’m really your Diana! Your dear drowned -‘girl!’--I am waiting for you to put your arms round me and tell me how -glad you are to have me back alive and well!” - -Mrs. May backed closer up against the wall and thrust both her -hands out in a defensive attitude. Her gooseberry eyes rolled in -her head,--her small, pursy mouth opened as though gasping for air. -Not a word did she utter till Diana made a swift, half-running step -towards her,--when she suddenly emitted a shrill scream like a -railway whistle--another and yet another. There was a scamper of feet -outside,--then the door was thrown open and Mr. May and Miss Preston -rushed in. - -“What’s the matter? What on earth is the matter?” they cried, -simultaneously. - -Mrs. May, cowering against the wall, pointed at her beautiful visitor. - -“Take her away! Get hold of her!” she yelled. “Get hold of her quick! -Send for the police! She’s mad! Aa-aah! You’ve let a lunatic into the -house! She’s run away from some asylum! Lucy Preston, you ought to -be ashamed of yourself to let her in. James, you’re a fool! Aa-aah!” -Another wild scream. “Look how she’s staring at me! She says she’s -my daughter Diana--my daughter who was drowned last year! She’s -stark, raving mad! James, send for a doctor and a policeman to remove -her!--take care!--she may turn round and bite you!--you can never tell. -Oh, dear, oh, dear! To think that with my weak heart, you should let -a mad girl into the house! Oh, cruel, cruel! And to think she should -imagine herself to be my daughter Diana!” - -Diana drew herself up like a queen addressing her subjects. - -“I _am_ your daughter Diana!” she said--“Though how I came to be born -of such people I cannot tell! For I have nothing in common with you. -But I have told you the truth. I was not drowned on the Devon coast -in that cove near Rose Lea as I led you to imagine--I was tired of -my life with you and ran away. I have been in Switzerland for a year -and have just come back. I thought it was my duty to show myself -to you alive--but I want you as little as you want me. I will go. -Good-bye!--Good-bye you, who _were_ my mother!” - -As she said this Mrs. May uttered another yell, and showed signs of -collapsing on the floor. Miss Preston hurried to her assistance, -while Mr. May, his knees shaking under him,--for he was an arrant -coward,--ventured cautiously to approach the beautiful “escaped -lunatic.” - -“There, there!” he murmured soothingly,--he had an idea that -“there, there,” was a panacea for all the emotions of the sex -feminine--“Come!--now--er--come with me, like a good girl! Be -reasonable and gentle!--I’ll take care of you!--you know you are not -allowed to go wandering about by yourself like this, with such strange -ideas in your head!--Now come along quietly, and I’ll see what I can -do----” - -Diana laughed merrily. - -“Oh, Pa! Poor old Pa! Just the same Pa! Don’t trouble yourself and -don’t look so frightened! I won’t ‘bite’ you! My car is waiting and -I have to be back at the hotel in time for dinner.” And she stepped -lightly along out of the drawing-room without one backward glance at -the moaning Mrs. May, supported by Miss Preston, while James Polydore -followed her, vaguely wondering whether her mention of a car in waiting -might not be something like crazed Ophelia’s call for “Come, my coach!” - -Suddenly she said: - -“Is Grace Laurie still with you?” - -He stared, thoroughly taken aback. - -“Grace Laurie? My wife’s maid? She married and went to Australia six -months ago. How could you know her?” - -“As your daughter Diana, I knew her, of course!” she replied. “Poor -Grace! She was a kind girl! _She_ would have recognised my voice, I’m -sure. Is it possible _you_ don’t?” - -“I don’t, indeed!” answered “Pa” cautiously, while using his best -efforts to get her out of the house--“Come, come! I’m very sorry for -you,--you are evidently one of those ‘lost identity’ cases of which we -so often hear--and you are far too pretty to be in such a sad condition -of mind! You see, you don’t know yourself, and you don’t know what -you’re talking about! My daughter Diana was not like you at all,--she -was a middle-aged woman--Ah!--over forty----” - -“So she was--so she _is_!” said Diana--“_I’m_ over forty! But, Pa, why -give yourself away? It makes _you_ so old!” - -She threw him such a smile, and such a glance of arrowy brilliancy that -his head whirled. - -“Poor child, poor child!” he mumbled, taking her daintily-gloved -hand and patting it. “Far gone!--far gone, indeed! And so beautiful, -too!--so very beautiful!” Here he kissed the hand he had grasped. -“There, there! You are almost normal! Be quite good! Here we are at the -door--now, are you sure you have a car? Shall I come with you?” - -Diana drew her hand away from her father’s hold, and her laugh, silvery -sweet, rang out in a little peal of mirth. - -“No, Pa! Fond as you are of the ladies, you cannot make love to your -own daughter! The Prayer Book forbids! Besides, a mad girl is not fit -for your little gallantries! You poor dear! One year has aged you -rather badly! Aren’t you a _leetle_ old for Miss Preston?” - -A quick flush overspread James Polydore’s already rubicund countenance, -and he blinked his eyes in a special “manner” which he was accustomed -to use when feigning great moral rectitude. More than ever convinced -that his visitor was insane, he continued to talk on in blandly -soothing accents: - -“Ah, I see your car? And no one with you? Dear, dear! I wish I could -escort you to--to wherever you are going----” - -“No, you don’t--not just now!” said Diana, laughing. “You’re too -scared! But perhaps another time----” - -She swung lightly away from him, and moved with her floating grace -of step along the drive to the carriage gate, where the car waited. -The driver jumped down and opened the door for her. She sprang in, -while James Polydore, panting after her, caught the chauffeur by the -coat-sleeve. - -“I don’t think this young lady knows where she is going,” he said, -confidentially. “Where did you find her?” - -The chauffeur stared. - -“She’s at our hotel,” he answered--“And I’m driving her back there.” - -Here Diana put her head out of the window,--her fair face radiant with -smiles. - -“You see, it’s all right!” she said--“Don’t bother about me! You know -the----Hotel looking over the Park? Well, I’m there just now, but not -for long?” - -“No, I’m sure not for long!” thought the bewildered James Polydore. -“You’ll be put in a ‘home’ for mental cases if you haven’t run away -from one already!” And it was with a great sense of relief that he -watched the chauffeur “winding up” and preparing to move off--the -lunatic would have no chance to “bite” him, as his wife had suggested! -But how beautiful she was! For the life of him he could not forbear -treating her to one of his “conquering” smiles. - -“Good-bye, dear child!” he said. “Take care of yourself! Be quite good! -I--I will come and see you at your--your hotel.” - -Diana laughed again. - -“I’m sure you will! Why, Pa dear, you won’t be able to keep away! The -antique Mrs. Ross-Percival, whom you so much admire, is not ‘the’ only -beautiful woman in London! _Do_ remember that! Ta-ta!” - -The car moved rapidly off, leaving James Polydore in a chaotic -condition of mind. He was, of course, absolutely convinced that the -girl who called herself his daughter Diana was the victim of a craze, -but how or when she became thus obsessed was a mystery to him. He -re-entered his house to struggle with the wordy reproaches of his -better-half, and to talk the matter over privately with the “companion -secretary,” Lucy Preston, whose attention he thought more safely -assured by a _tête-à-tête_, which apparently obliged him to put his -arm round her waist and indulge in sundry other agreeable endearments. -But the exquisite beauty of the “escaped lunatic” haunted him, and he -made up his mind to see her again at all costs, mad or sane, and make -searching inquiries concerning her. - -Diana herself, speeding back to her hotel, realised afresh the -immensity of the solitude into which her new existence plunged her. -Her own father and mother did not recognise her,--her most trusted -friend, Sophy Lansing, refused to acknowledge her identity--well!--she -was indeed “born again”--born of strange elements in which things -human played no part, and she must needs accept the position. The -saving grace of it all was that she felt no emotion,--neither sadness -nor joy--neither fear nor shame;--she was, or she felt herself to be -a strange personality apart from what is understood as human life, -yet conscious of a life superior to that of humanity. If a ray of -light hovering above a world of shadows could be imagined as an -entity, a being, such would most accurately have described her curious -individuality. - -That same evening her banker called upon her, bringing with him a -pleasant motherly-looking lady whom he introduced as Mrs. Beresford, a -widow, whose straitened circumstance made her very anxious to obtain -some position of trust, with an adequate salary. Her agreeable and -kindly manners, gentle voice, and undeniable good breeding impressed -Diana at once in her favour,--and then and there a settlement between -them was effected, much to the relief and satisfaction of the worthy -banker, who, without any hesitation, said that he “could not rest till -he felt sure Miss May was under good protection and care”--at which -she laughed a little but expressed her gratitude as prettily as any -“girl” might be expected to do. She invited him and her newly-engaged -chaperone to dine with her, and they all three went down to the hotel -dining-room together, where, of course, Diana’s amazing beauty made her -the observed of all observers. Especially did Captain the Honourable -Reginald Cleeve, seated at a table with an alarmingly stout wife and -two equally alarmingly plain daughters, stare openly and admiringly -at the fair enchantress with the wonderful sea-blue eyes and dazzling -complexion, and deeply did he ruminate in his mind as to how he could -best approach her, and ask whether she happened to be any relative to -the “Diana May” he had once known. He made an opportunity after dinner, -when she passed through the lounge hall with her companions, and paused -for a moment to look at the “Programme of Entertainments in London” -displayed for the information of visitors. - -“Pray excuse me!” he said--“I chanced to hear your name--may I ask----” - -“Anything!” Diana answered, smiling, while Mrs. Beresford, already -alert, came closer. - -“I used to know,” went on the Captain, becoming rather confused -and hesitating--“a Miss Diana May--I wondered if you were any -relative----?” - -“Yes, indeed!” said Diana, cheerfully--“I am!--quite a near relative! -Do come and see me to-morrow, will you? I have often heard of Captain -Cleeve!--and his _dear_ wife!--and his _sweet_ girls! Yes!--_do_ come! -Mrs. Beresford and I will be _so_ pleased!” - -Here she took her new chaperone’s arm and gave it a little suggestive -squeeze, by way of assuring her that all was as it should be,--and with -another bewildering smile, and a reiterated “Do come!” she passed on, -with her banker (who had become a little stiff and standoffish at the -approach of Captain Cleeve) and Mrs. Beresford, and so disappeared. - -Cleeve tugged vexedly at his moustache. - -“A ‘near relative,’ is she? Then she knows! Or--perhaps not! She’s too -young--not more than eighteen at most. And the old Diana must be quite -forty-five! Hang it all!--this girl might be her daughter--but old -Diana never married--just like some old maids ‘faithful to a memory!’” -He laughed. “By Jove! I remember now! She got drowned last year--old -Diana did!--drowned somewhere in Devonshire. I read about it in the -papers and thought what a jolly good thing! Poor old Diana! And this -little beauty is a ‘near relative,’ is she? Well--well!--we’ll see! -To-morrow!” - -But when to-morrow came, it brought him no elucidation of the mystery. -Diana had left the hotel. The manageress explained that through Mrs. -Beresford she had heard of a very charming furnished flat which she -thought would suit her, and which she had suddenly decided to take, and -she had gone to make the final arrangements. - -“She left this note for you,” said the manageress, handing Cleeve -a letter. “She remembered she had asked you to call on her this -afternoon.” - -He took the letter with a sudden qualm of “nerves.” It was simple -enough. - - “Dear Captain Cleeve” (it ran), - - “So sorry to put you off, but Mrs. Beresford and I are taking a flat - and we shall be rather busy for the next few days, putting things in - order. After that will you come and see me at the above address? - - “Yours sincerely, - “Diana May.” - -That was all,--but while reading it, Captain the Honourable’s head swam -round and round as if he were revolving in a wheel. For though the -letter purported to come from a “young” Diana, the handwriting--the -painfully familiar handwriting--was that of the “old” Diana! - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - - -Genius takes a century or more to become recognised,--but Beauty -illumines this mortal scene as swiftly as a flash-light. Brief it -may be, but none the less brilliant and blinding; and men who are -for the most part themselves unintelligent and care next to nothing -for intellectuality, go down like beaten curs under the spell of -physical loveliness, when it is united to a dominating consciousness -of charm. Consciousness of charm is a powerful magnet. A woman may -be beautiful, but if she is of a nervous or retiring disposition and -sits awkwardly in the background twiddling her thumbs she is never a -success. She must know her own power, and, knowing it, must exercise -it. “Old” Diana May had failed to learn this lesson in the days of -her girlhood,--she had believed, with quite a touching filial faith, -in the pious and excessively hypocritical twaddle her father talked, -about the fascination of “modest, pretty girls, who were unconscious -of their beauty”--with the result that she had seen him, with other -men, avoid such “modest, pretty girls” altogether, and pay devoted -court to _im_modest, “loud” and impertinent women, who asserted their -“made-up” good looks with a frank boldness which “drew” the men on -like a shoal of herrings in a net, and left the “modest, pretty girls” -out in the cold. “Old” Diana had, by devotion to duty and constancy in -love, missed all her chances,--but the “young” Diana, albeit “of mature -years,” knew better now than to “miss” anything. She was mistress of -her own situation, so completely that the hackneyed expression of “all -London at her feet” for once proclaimed a literal truth. London is, on -the whole, very ready to have something to worship,--it is easily led -into a “craze.” It is a sort of Caliban among cities,--a monster that -capers in drink and curses in pain, having, as Shakespeare says of his -uncouth creation: “A forward voice to speak well of his friend,” and -a “backward voice to utter foul speeches and detract.” But for once -London was unanimous in giving its verdict for Diana May as the most -beautiful creature it had ever seen. Photographers, cinema-producers, -dressmakers, tailors, jewellers besieged her; she was like the lady -of the Breton legend, who lived at the top of a brazen tower, too -smooth and polished for anyone to climb it, or for any ladder to be -supported against it, and whose face at the window drove all beholders -mad with longing for the unattainable. One society versifier made -a spurt of fame for himself by describing her as “a maiden goddess -moulded from a dream,” whereat other society versifiers were jealous, -and made a little commotion in the press by way of advertisement. But -Diana herself, the centre of all the stir, showed no sign of either -knowing or appreciating the social excitement concerning her, and her -complete indifference only made her more desirable in the eyes of her -ever-increasing crowd of admirers. - -Once established in her flat with her chaperone, Mrs. Beresford, she -lived the most curiously removed life from all the humanity that -surged and seethed around her. The few appearances she made at operas, -theatres, restaurants and the like were sufficient to lift her into -the sphere of the recognised and triumphant “beauty” of the day. -Coarse and vulgar seemed all the “faked” portraits of the half-nude -sirens of stage and music-hall in the pictorial press, compared with -the rare glimpses of the ethereal, almost divine loveliness which -was never permitted to be copied by any painter or photographer. -Once only did an eager camera-man press the button of his “snapshot” -machine face to face with Diana as she came out of a flower-show,--she -smiled kindly as she passed him and he thought himself in heaven. But -when he came to develop his negative it was “fogged,” as though it -had had the light in front of it instead of behind it, as photography -demands. This accident was a complete mystification, as he had been -more than usually careful to take up a correct position. However, other -photographers were just as unfortunate, and none were able to obtain -so much as a faint impression of the fair features which dazzled every -male beholder who gazed upon them. Artists, even the most renowned -R.A.’s, were equally disappointed,--she, the unapproachable, the cold, -yet enchanting “maiden goddess moulded from a dream” would not “sit” -to any one of them,--would not have anything to do with them at all, -in fact--and fled from them as though she were a Daphne pursued by -many Apollos. A very short time sufficed to surround her with a crowd -of adorers and would-be lovers, chief and most persistent among them -being Captain the Honourable Reginald Cleeve, and--that antique Adonis, -her father, James Polydore May. The worthy James had all his life been -in the habit of forming opinions which were diametrically opposed to -the opinions of everyone else,--and pursuing this course always to his -own satisfaction, he had come to the conclusion that this “Diana May” -who declared herself to be his daughter, was an artful _demi-mondaine_ -and adventuress with a “craze.” He had frequently heard of people who -imagined themselves to be the reincarnated embodiments of the dead. -“Why, God bless my soul, I should think so!” he said to a man at the -Club who rallied him about his openly expressed admiration for the “new -beauty” who bore the same name as that of his “drowned” daughter--“I -met a woman once who told me she was the reincarnation of Cleopatra! -Now this girl, just because she happens to have my name, sticks to her -idea, that she is _my_ Diana----” - -“You’d like her to be, wouldn’t you?” chuckled his friend. “But if she -takes you for her father----” - -“She does--poor child, she does!” and James Polydore May sighed. “You -would hardly believe it----” - -“Why not?”--and the friend chuckled again--“You’re quite old enough!” - -With this unkind shot from a bent bow of malice he went off, leaving -James Polydore in an angry fume. For he--James--was not “old”--he -assured himself--he was _not_ old,--he would not be old! His wife was -“old”--women age so quickly!--but he--why he was “in the prime of -life;” all men over sixty are--in their own opinion. The beautiful -Diana had ensnared him,--and his sensual soul being of gross quality, -was sufficiently stimulated by her physical charm to make him eager -to know all he could of her. She herself had not been in the least -surprised when he found out her address and came to visit her. The -presence of Mrs. Beresford rather disconcerted him,--that lady’s quiet -good sense, elegant manners and evident affection for the lovely “girl” -she chaperoned, were a little astonishing to him. Such a woman could -not be the keeper of a lunatic? Diana never entered into the matter of -her relationship with James Polydore to Mrs. Beresford,--it entertained -her more or less ironical humour to see her own father playing the -ardent admirer, and whenever Mr. May called, as he often did, she -always had some laughing remark to make about her “old relative,” who -was, she declared, “rather a bore.” Mrs. Beresford was discreet enough -to ask no questions, and so James Polydore came and went, getting no -“forrader” with the fair one, notwithstanding all his efforts to make -himself agreeable, and to dislodge from her mind the strange obsession -which possessed it. - -One day he went to see Sophy Lansing--never a favourite of his--and -tried to find out what she thought of the “Diana May” whose name was -now almost one to conjure with. But Sophy had little patience to bestow -on him. - -“An adventuress, of course!” she declared. “I am surprised you don’t -take the trouble to prosecute her for presuming to pass herself off as -your daughter! And I’ll tell you this much--Diana--_your_ Diana--never -was drowned!” - -James Polydore’s mouth opened,--he stared, wondering if he had heard -aright. - -“Never was drowned?” he echoed, feebly. - -“No! Never was drowned!” repeated Sophy, firmly. “She ran away from -you--and no wonder! You were always a bore,--and she was always being -reproached as an ‘old maid’ and ‘in the way.’ She slaved for you and -her mother from morning till night and never had a kind word or a -thank-you. _I_ advised her to break away from the hum-drum life you -made her lead, and on that morning when you thought her drowned, she -came to _me_! Ah, you may stare! She did! She saw an advertisement in -a French paper of a scientist in Geneva wanting a lady assistant to -help him in his work, and she went there to try for the situation and -got it. I rigged her out and lent her some money. She’s paid it all -back, and for all I know she’s in Geneva still, though she’s under an -agreement not to write to anyone or give her address. She’s been gone a -year now.” - -Mr. May’s dumpy form stiffened visibly. - -“May I ask,” he said, pompously--“May I ask, Miss Lansing, why you have -not thought proper to communicate these--these strange circumstances to -me before?” - -Sophy laughed. - -“Because I promised Diana I wouldn’t,” she answered. “She knew and _I_ -knew that you and Mrs. May would be perfectly happy without her. She -has taken her freedom, and I hope she’ll keep it!” - -“Then--my daughter is--presumably--still alive?” he said. “And instead -of dying, she has--well!--deserted us?” - -“Exactly!” replied Sophy. “I would give you the name of the scientist -for whom she is or was working, only I suppose you’d write and make -trouble. When I had, as I thought, a letter from her the other day, -saying she was returning to London, I got everything ready here to -receive her--but when this artful girl turned up----” - -“Oh, the girl came to see you, did she?” Mr. May mumbled. “The--the -adventuress----?” - -“Of course she did!--and actually brought me my watch-bracelet--one -I had lent to Diana--as a sort of proof of identity. But of course -nothing can make a woman of forty a girl of eighteen!” - -Mr. May put his hand to his bewildered head. - -“No--no--of course not!--I--I must tell Mrs. May our daughter is -alive--it will be a shock--of surprise----” - -“No doubt!” said Sophy, sharply. “But she’s dead to _you_! Remember -that! If I didn’t fear to make trouble for her I’d wire to her employer -at Geneva about this pretender to her name--only it wouldn’t do any -good, and I’d rather not interfere. And I advise you not to go dangling -after the ‘new beauty,’ as she’s called--you really are too old for -that sort of thing!” - -Mr. May winced. Then he drew himself up with an effort at dignity. - -“I shall endeavour to trace my daughter,” he said. “And I regret I -cannot rely on your assistance, Miss Lansing! You have deceived us very -greatly----” - -“Twaddle!” interrupted Miss Lansing, defiantly. “You made Diana -wretched--and she’d have gone on housekeeping for you till she had lost -all pleasure in living,--now she’s got a good salary and a situation -which is satisfactory, and I’ll never help you to drag her back to the -old jog-trot of attending to your food and comfort. So there! As for -this, ‘bogus’ Diana, the best thing you can do is to go and tell her -you know all about it, and that she can’t take you in any more.” - -“She’s the most beautiful thing ever seen!” he said, suddenly and with -determination. - -Sophy Lansing gave him an “all over” glance of utter contempt. - -“What’s that to you if she is?” she demanded. “Will you _never_ -recognise your age? She might be your daughter--almost your -granddaughter! And you want to make love to her? Bah!” - -With a scornful sweep of her garments she left him, and he found his -way out of the house more like a man in a dream than in a reality. -He could hardly believe that what she had told him was true--that -Diana--his daughter Diana, was alive after all! He wondered what -effect the news would have on his wife? After so much “mourning” and -expressions of “terrible shock,”--the whole drowning business was -turned into something of a comedy! - -“Miss Lansing ought to be ashamed of herself!” he thought, indignantly. -“A regular hypocrite! Why, she wrote a letter of sympathy and ‘deep -sorrow’ for the loss of her ‘darling Diana!’ Disgraceful! And if the -story is true and Diana has really run away from us, we should be -perfectly justified in disowning her!” - -Full of mingled anger and bewilderment he decided to go and see the -“adventuress” known as Diana May and tell her all. She would not, he -thought, pretend any longer to be his daughter if she knew that his -daughter was living. He found her in the loveliest of “rest gowns,” -reclining on a sofa with a book in her hand,--she scarcely stirred from -her attitude of perfect ease as he entered, except to turn her head -round on her satin pillow and smile at him. Quite unnerved by that -smile, he sat down beside her and taking her hand raised it to his lips. - -“What a gallant little Pa it is!” she observed, lazily. “I wonder what -‘Ma’ would say if she saw you!” - -He put on an air of mild severity. - -“My dear girl,” he said. “I wish you would stop all this nonsense and -be sensible! I have heard some news to-day which ought to put an end to -your pretending to be what you are not. My daughter--my real daughter -Diana--is alive.” - -Diana laughed. - -“Of course! Very much so! I should not be here if she were not. Do I -seem dead?” - -He made a gesture of impatience. - -“Tut, tut! If you _will_ persist----” - -“Naturally I will persist!” she said, sitting up on the sofa, her -delicate laces falling about her like a cloud and her fair head -lifted like that of a pictured angel--“I _am_ Diana! I suppose you’ve -been seeing Sophy Lansing--she’s the only living being who knows my -story and even she doesn’t recognise me now. But I can’t help _her_ -obstinacy, or _yours_! I _am_ Diana!” - -“_My_ daughter,” said Mr. May, with emphasis--“is in Geneva----” - -“_Was_,” interrupted Diana. “And _is_--here!” - -Mr. May gave a groan of utter despair. - -“No use--no use!” he said. “One might as well argue with the -wind as with one of these mentally obsessed persons! Perfectly -hopeless!--hopeless----!” - -Diana sprang off her sofa and stood erect, confronting him. - -“See here!” she said--“When I lived at home with you, sacrificing all -my time to you and my mother, and only thinking of my duty to you both, -you found me ‘in the way.’ Why? Merely because I was growing old. -You never thought there was any cruelty in despising me for a fault -which seems common to all nature. You never cared to consider that -you yourself were growing old!--no, for you still seek to play the -juvenile and the amorous! What you men consider legitimate in your own -sex, you judge ridiculous in ours. You look upon me as ‘young’--when -in very truth I am of the age of the same Diana whom as your daughter -you wearied of--but youth has been given to my ‘mature years’ in a way -which you in your ignorance of all science would never dream of. You, -like most men, judge by outward appearances only. The physical, which -is perishable, attracts you--and you have no belief in the spiritual, -which is imperishable. But the spiritual wins!” - -Mr. May sat winking and blinking under this outburst, which was to him -entirely incomprehensible, though he was uncomfortably conscious of the -radiance of eyes that played their glances upon him like beams from -fiery stars. - -“There, there!” he said at last, nervously,--resorting to his usual -soothing formula--“You are overwrought--a little hysterical--a sudden -access of this--this unfortunate mistaken identity trouble. I will come -back and talk to you another day----” - -“Why should you come back?” she demanded. “What do you want of me?” - -James Polydore was somewhat confused by this straight question. What -indeed did he want of her? He was too much of a moral coward to -formulate the answer, even to himself. She was beautiful, and he wanted -to caress her beauty,--old as he was, he would have liked to kiss -that exquisite mouth, curved like a rose-petal, and run his wrinkled -fingers through the warm and lavish gold of the hair that waved over -the white brow and small ears like rippling sunshine. He was afflicted -by the disease of senile amourousness for all women--but for this one -in particular he was ready and eager to go to all lengths of fatuous -foolishness possible to an old man in love, if he could only have been -sure she was not insane! While he stood hesitating, and twitching his -eyelids in the peculiar “manner” he affected when he had thoughts to -conceal, she answered her own question for him. - -“You want to make love to me,” she said. “As I have told you before, -that can’t be done. I am your daughter,--deny it as you may to the -end, nothing can alter the fact. Do you remember the man I was engaged -to?--Captain Cleeve?--the ‘Honourable’ Reginald Cleeve?” - -At this he was fairly startled and he gave a gasp of astonishment. - -“I remember the man my daughter was engaged to,” he said. “His name was -Cleeve. But he is married----” - -“Very much so!” and Diana smiled. “But that doesn’t prevent his making -love to me--and I let him do it! You see, _he’s_ no relation!--and -I don’t consider his fat wife any more than he considered me when -he married _her_ and threw _me_ over! But he’s like you--he doesn’t -believe I’m the old Diana!” - -“Of course not!” and Mr. May expanded his chest with a long breath of -superior wisdom. “I should like to see him and talk to him about you -and your sad condition of mind----” - -“No doubt you would, but you won’t,” said Diana calmly. “I have -forbidden him to go near you for the present. He dare not ask any -questions about me--till--till I have done with him!” - -What a look there was in her eyes! James Polydore shrank under it as -though it blinded him. - -“Dare not? Done with him?” he echoed stupidly. - -She laughed, quite sweetly. - -“There, poor Pa, do go home! Pay your attentions to my mother’s -companion, Miss Preston--if she really likes your endearments, why, -then, ‘crabbed age and youth’ _may_ live together! Poor mother! She -never found out _all_ your little ways!--some of them she discovered -by chance--but _I_ knew them all! What would you give to be as young -as I am at your age! ‘Too late, too late!--ye cannot enter now!’” -Her laughter rang out again,--then approaching him, she laid her -hands lightly on his shoulders and kissed him. “There, that’s a true -daughter’s kiss!--make the best of it, dear Pa! Go home and be a good, -nice, moral old man!--sit on one side of the fireplace with Ma on the -other, and settle down into Darby and Joan!--such a nice couple!--with -a dash of Miss Preston between to keep up your spirits! And don’t come -back here _ever_!--unless you accept the true position we occupy of -father and daughter--father growing old, and daughter growing young!” - -Standing in the centre of the room, with the soft ivory chiffon and -lace of her “rest gown” trailing about her like the delicate _cirri_ -floating across a summer sky, she appeared like a vision of something -altogether beyond mere woman, and as the little gross, sensual man -who _had been_ her father looked at her, a sudden unnameable terror -overcame him. His limbs shook--his brain reeled,--within himself a -frightened sense of something supernatural paralysed his will--and he -made for the door like a man groping in the dark. She threw it open for -him with a queenly gesture of dismissal. - -“Tell my mother,” she said, “that her daughter is truly alive, and that -she has kissed you!--not as the ‘old’ but as the young Diana! Don’t -forget!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - - -The chaotic condition of mind into which Mr. Polydore May found himself -plunged by what to him was the inexplicable and crazy conduct of the -inexplicable and crazy young woman who so obstinately maintained her -right to consider herself his daughter, was nothing to the well-nigh -raving state of Captain the Honourable Reginald Cleeve, who was faced -with a still more intolerable position. He, when he had first called -upon Diana as she had invited him to do, experienced something in the -nature of a thunder-clap, when she explained, with much gracious, -albeit cold composure, that she was his former betrothed whom he had -“jilted” for a younger and wealthier woman. If he had been suddenly -hypnotised by a remorseless conjurer, he could not have been more -stricken into speechless and incredulous amazement. He sat in a chair -opposite to his fair and smiling informant, staring helplessly, while -she, having had tea brought in, prepared him a cup with hospitable ease -and condescension. - -“When you got the note I left for you at the hotel,” she said, “surely -you recognised my handwriting?” - -Still staring, he moistened his dry lips with his tongue and tried to -speak. - -“Your handwriting?” he stammered--“I--I thought it very like the -handwriting of--of another Diana May I used to know----” - -“Yes--another Diana May,” she said, bending her grave clear eyes upon -him--“A Diana May whose life you ruthlessly spoiled,--whose trust in -men and things you murdered--and why! Because you met a woman with -more money, who was younger than I--I, who had aged through waiting -patiently for you, as you had asked me to do--because you thought that -by the time you returned from India I should be what Society calls -_passée_! And for such callous and selfish considerations as these you -deliberately sacrificed my happiness! But I have been given a strange -and unexpected vengeance!--look at your wife and look at me!--which now -is the ‘younger’ of the two?” - -He moved uneasily--there was something in her aspect that stabbed him -as though with physical force and pain. - -“You--you must certainly know you are talking nonsense!” he said at -last, trying to pull himself together. “Yours is the queerest craze I -ever heard of! Here are you, a beautiful young girl in the very dawn of -womanhood, pretending to be a middle-aged spinster who was accidentally -drowned last year off the coast of Devon! I don’t know how you’ve come -by the same name as hers--or why your handwriting should resemble -hers,--it’s mere coincidence, no doubt--but that you should actually -declare yourself as one and the same identity with hers, is perfectly -ridiculous! I don’t deny that you seem to have got hold of the other -Diana May’s story--I _was_ engaged to her, that’s true--but I had to be -away in India longer than was at first intended--seven years nearly. -And seven years is a long time to keep faith with a woman who doesn’t -grow younger----” - -“Doesn’t grow younger--yes--I see!” echoed Diana, with an enigmatical -smile. “And seven years is a long time for a woman to keep faith with a -man under the same circumstances. _You_ have not grown younger!” - -He reddened. His personal vanity as “an officer and a gentleman” was -far greater than that of any woman. - -“If we live, we are bound to grow older----” he said. - -“Sometimes,” acquiesced Diana, pleasantly. “It is not always necessary. -In my case, for example----” - -Looking at the fair and youthful outline of her features, the sense -of extreme incongruity between what she actually was and what she -resolutely avowed herself to be touched his innermost sense of humour, -and he laughed outright. - -“Of course you are playing!” he said--“Playing with yourself and -me! You must be one of those queer psychists who imagine they are -re-embodied spirits of the past--but I don’t mind if that sort of thing -really amuses you! Only I wonder you don’t imagine yourself to be the -reincarnation of some fairy princess--or even the Diana who was the -goddess of the moon, rather than an ordinary spinster of the British -middle-class, who, even in her best days, was nothing more than the -usual type of pretty English girl.” - -“To whom you wrote a good deal of ‘gush’ in your time--” said Diana -composedly--“which she was fool enough to believe. Do you remember this -letter?” - -From a quaint blue velvet bag hanging at her side by a silver chain, -she drew a folded paper and handed it to him. - -With eyes that grew hot and dim in giddy perplexity, he read his own -writing: - - “How I love you, my own sweet little Diana! You are to me the most - adorable girl in the world, and if ever I do an unkind thing to you or - wrong you in any way, may God punish me for a treacherous brute! My - one desire in life is to make you happy.” - -His hand,--the massive, veiny hand of a man accustomed to “do himself -well,” trembled, and the paper shook between his fingers. - -“Where did you get this?” he asked, unsteadily--“It--it was written -quite a long time ago!” - -“You sent it to me,” replied Diana. “I returned all your other letters, -but I kept that one,--and this.” - -Another note was drawn daintily out from the blue velvet bag, and she -handed it to him with a smile. - -Again his burning eyes travelled along his own familiar scrawl: - - “I am quite sure you will understand that time has naturally worked - changes in you as well as in myself, and I am obliged to confess that - the feelings I had for you no longer exist. But you are a sensible - woman, and you are old enough now to realise that we are better apart.” - -He lifted his head and tried to look at her. She met his shifting gaze -with a clear and level splendour of regard that pierced his very soul -with a subconscious sense of humiliation and conviction. Yet it was not -possible for him to believe her story,--the whole suggestion was too -fantastic and incredible. He gave her back the letters. She took them -from his hand. - -“Well!” she said, tentatively. - -“Well!” he rejoined--then forced a difficult smile--“I wrote these -things, certainly, but how you came by them I don’t know. Though, after -all, you might easily have met the other Diana May, and she might have -given you her confidence----” - -“And her lover’s letters to keep?” said Diana, contemptuously. “So like -her! Reginald Cleeve, you said just now that I was playing--playing -with you and with myself. Believe me, I never was further from -‘play’ in my life! I’m in deadly earnest! I want----” She paused -and laughed--then added: “I only want what I can have for the -asking--_you_!” - -He sprang up from his chair and came nearer to her, his face aglow with -ardour. She motioned him back. - -“Not yet!” she said,--and the seductive beauty of her face and form -smote him as with a whip of steel--“It isn’t love at first sight, -you know, like that of Romeo and Juliet! We are _old_ lovers! And -_you_--you are married.” - -“What does that matter?” he said, defiantly. “No man considers himself -bound nowadays by the matrimonial tie!” - -“No?” she queried, sweetly. “I’m so glad to know that! It makes me -doubly thankful that I never married you!” - -He made a closer step to her side and caught both her hands in his. - -“Do you still persist,” he said, “in your idea that you are the old -Diana?--the woman I was engaged to?--you, a mere girl?” - -She smiled most entrancingly up into the feverish eyes that searched -her face. - -“I still persist!” she answered--“I have always loved telling the -truth, no matter how unpleasant! I _am_ the ‘old’ Diana to whom you -were engaged, and whom you heartlessly ‘threw over.’ Her, and no -other!--as ‘old’ as ever in years though not in looks!” - -His grasp of her tightened. - -“Then in Heaven’s name have your own way, you beautiful crazed -creature!” he said, passionately,--“If that is your obsession or fancy, -stick to it, and come back to me!” - -She loosened her hands,--he tried to hold them, but they seemed to melt -from his clasp in the most curious and uncanny way like melting snow. -Drawing herself apart, she stood looking at him. - -“Come back to you!” she echoed--“I never left you! It was you -who left _me_!--for no fault! And, now I suppose you would leave -your wife,--also for no fault--except perhaps--” and she laughed -lightly--“that of too much general weightiness! But she has given you -children--are you not proud and happy to be ‘the father of a family’? -Your daughters are certainly very plain,--but you must not go by -outward appearances!” - -Her lovely face dimpled with smiles--her brilliant eyes, full of a -compelling magnetism, filled him with a kind of inward rage--he gave a -gesture of mingled wrath and pain. - -“You are quite unlike the old Diana,” he said, bitterly. “She was the -gentlest of creatures,--she would never have mocked me!” - -A rippling peal of laughter broke from her--laughter that was so cold -and cutting that its very vibration on the air was like the tinkling of -ice-drops on glass. - -“True!” she said. “She was too gentle by half! She was meek and -patient--devoted, submissive and loving--she believed in a man’s -truth, honour and chivalry! Yes--the poor ‘old’ Diana had feeling and -emotions--but the ‘young’ Diana has none!” - -The afternoon sunshine pouring through the window bathed her figure -in a luminance so dazzling and made of her such a radiant vision of -exquisite perfection that he was fairly dazzled, while the same uneasy -sense of the “supernatural” troubled him as it had troubled Mr. James -Polydore May. - -“Well, if you _will_ talk like this,” he said, almost reproachfully--“I -had better not trouble you with my company--you said you wanted me----” - -“So I do!” she rejoined--“I want you very much!--but not just now! -You can go--but come again soon! However I need not ask you--you are -sure to come! And you need not tell your wife to call upon me--I will -dispense with that formality! I prefer to ignore your ‘family!’ _Au -revoir!_” - -She stretched out her hand--a little, lovely hand like that of the -marble Psyche--and hardly knowing what he did, he covered it with -kisses. She smiled. - -“There, that will do!” she said--“Another time----” - -She gave him a look that shot like lightning from her eyes into his -brain, and set it in a whirl. - -“Diana!” He uttered the name as if it were a prayer. - -“Another time!” she said, in a low, sweet tone--“And--quite soon! -But--go now!” - -He left her reluctantly, his mind disquieted and terrorised. Some -potent force appeared to have laid hold of his entire being, drawing -every nerve and muscle as if by a strong current of electricity. In -a dim sort of way he was afraid,--but of what? This he could not -formulate to himself, but when he had gone out of her presence he was -aware of a strange and paralysing weakness and tiredness,--sensations -new to him, and--as he was a great coward where any sort of illness -was concerned--alarming. And yet--such was the hold her beauty had -on him, that he had made up his mind to possess it or die in the -attempt. All the men he knew about town were infatuated with the mere -glimpse of the loveliness which flashed upon them like the embodiment -of light from another and fairer world, and there was not one among -them who did not secretly indulge in the same hope as himself. But the -craze or “obsession,” or whatever it was that dominated her, as he -thought, gave him a certain advantage over her other admirers. For if -she really believed he had formerly been her lover, then surely there -was something in her which would draw her to him through the mere -fancy of such a possibility. Like all men who are largely endowed with -complacent self-satisfaction, he was encased in a hide of conceit too -thick to imagine that with the “obsession” (as he considered it) which -she entertained, might also go the memory of his callous treatment -of her in the past, entailing upon him a possible though indefinable -danger. - -She, meanwhile, after he had gone, sat down to think. A long mirror -facing her gave her the reflection of her own exquisite face and -figure--but her expression for the moment was cold and stern, as that -of some avenging goddess. She looked at her hands--the hands her -traitor lover had kissed--and opening a quaint jar of perfume on the -table beside her, she dashed some of its contents over their delicate -whiteness. - -“For he has soiled them!” she said--“They are outraged by his touch!” - -A deep scorn gathered in her eyes like growing darkness. - -“Why should I trouble myself with any vengeance upon him?” she asked -herself inwardly. “A mere lump of sensuality!--a man who considers -no principle save that of his own pleasure, and has no tenderness -or memory for me as the ‘old’ spinster whom he thought (and still -thinks) was drowned in Devon!--what is he to me but an utterly -contemptible atom!--and yet--the only sentiment I seem to be capable -of now is hate!--undying hate, the antithesis of the once undying -love I bore him! The revolt of my soul against him is like a revolt -of light against darkness! Is he not punished enough by the gross -and commonplace domestic life he has made for himself! No!--not -enough!--not enough to hurt him!” - -She drew a long breath, conscious of the power which filled her body -and spirit,--a power which now for the first time seemed to herself -terrific. She knew there was pent up within her a lightning force -which was swift to attract and equally swift to destroy. - -“Those old Greek stories of gods and goddesses whose unveiled glory -slew the mortals who dared to doubt them were quite true prophecies,” -she thought--“only they did not penetrate far enough into the myth -to discover the real scientific truth of how the mortal could put on -immortality. Not even now, though the fusion and transmutation of -elements every day discloses more and more marvels of Nature, they have -not tested the possibilities of change which science may bring about in -the composition of human bodies--that is for the future to discover and -determine.” - -At that moment Mrs. Beresford entered the room with a telegram. - -“For you, Diana,” she said. “It has just come.” - -Opening it, Diana read the message it brought. - - “Professor Chauvet has died suddenly. Has left you his sole heiress. - Please meet me in Paris as soon as possible to settle business. Your - presence necessary. Reply Hôtel Windsor.--Dimitrius.” - -The paper dropped from her hands. She had forgotten Professor Chauvet -altogether! The crusty yet kindly old Professor who had asked her to -marry him--she had actually forgotten him! And now--he was dead! She -sat amazed and stricken, till the gentle voice of Mrs. Beresford roused -her. - -“Anything wrong, my dear?” - -“Oh, no!--yet--yes!--perhaps a little! A friend has died suddenly--very -suddenly--and he has made me his heiress.” - -Mrs. Beresford smiled a little. - -“Well, isn’t that good news?” - -For the first time since her “awakening” under the fiery ordeal of -Dimitrius’s experiment, she experienced a painful thrill of real -“feeling.” - -“No--I am sorry,” she said. “I thought I should never feel sorry for -anything--but I forgot and neglected this friend--and perhaps--if I had -remembered, he might not have died.” - -A beautiful softness and tenderness filled her eyes, and Mrs. Beresford -thought she had never seen or imagined any creature half so lovely as -she looked. - -“We must go to Paris,” she said. “We can easily start to-morrow. I will -answer this wire--and then write.” - -She pencilled a brief reply: - - “Deeply grieved. Will come as soon as possible.--Diana.” - ---and ringing the bell, bade the servant who answered the summons take -it to the telegraph office and send it off without delay. - -“Yes--I am very sorry!” she said again to Mrs. Beresford--“I reproach -myself for needless cruelty.” - -Mrs. Beresford, mild-eyed and grey-haired, looked at her half timidly, -half affectionately. - -“I’m afraid, my dear, you _are_ cruel!--just a little!” she said. “You -make havoc in so many hearts!--and you do not seem to care!” - -Diana shrugged her shoulders. - -“Why should I care?” she retorted. “The havoc you speak of, is merely -the selfish desire of men to possess what seems to them attractive--it -goes no deeper!” - -Then, noting Mrs. Beresford’s rather pained expression, she smiled. “I -seem hard, don’t I? But I have had experience----” - -“You? My dear, you are so young!” and her kindly chaperone took her -hand and patted it soothingly. “When you are older you will think very -differently! When you love someone----” - -“When I love!”--and the beautiful eyes shone glorious as -light-beams--“Ah, then! Why then--‘the sun will grow cold, and the -leaves of the Judgment Book will most certainly be unrolled!’” - -That night she came to a sudden resolve to put away all her formerly -cherished ideas of revenging herself on Reginald Cleeve. Standing -before her mirror she saw her own beauty transfigured into a yet finer -delicacy when this determination became crystallized, as it were, in -her consciousness. - -“What is my positive mind?” she asked herself. “It is a pole of -attraction, which has through the forces of air, fire and water learned -to polarise atoms into beautiful forms. It organises itself; but it is -also a centre which radiates power over a world of visible effects. So -that if I choose I can vitalise or _de_vitalise other forms. In this -way I could inflict punishment on the traitor who spoiled my former -life--but I live another life, now, in which he has no part. This being -so, why should I descend to pulverise base clay with pure fire? He will -meet his punishment now without any further effort of mine, beyond that -which I demand of justice!” - -She raised her hand appealingly, as though she were a priestess -invoking a deity,--then, turning to her writing-table, she penned the -following lines: - - “To Reginald Cleeve. - - “I am summoned unexpectedly to Paris on business,--and the chances are - that I shall not see you again. All that I have told you is absolutely - true, no matter how much you may disbelieve the story. I am the woman - you once pretended to love, and whose life you spoiled,--and I am the - woman whom you love now, or (to put it roughly) whom you desire, but - whose life you can never spoil again. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’--and - when you read this, it is probable I shall have gone away, which is - a good thing for your peace, and--safety. You have a wife,--you are - the ‘father of a family’--be content with the domestic happiness - you have chosen, and fulfil the responsibilities you have accepted. - Good-bye!--and think of me no more except as the ‘old’ - - “Diana.” - - -Now when this letter reached Captain the Honourable Reginald Cleeve -at his club, to which it was addressed, and where he had dined on the -evening of the day it was posted, which was the next but one to the day -of his interview with Diana, it was brought to him in the smoking-room, -and as his eyes ran over it he uttered an involuntary oath of such -force that even men inured to violent language looked up, amused and -inquisitive. - -“What’s up?” asked an acquaintance seated near him. - -“Oh, nothing! A dun!” he answered,--then, calming down, he lit a cigar. -After a few puffs at it he took up a newspaper--read a paragraph or -two--then laid it down. - -“By the way,” he said, to the man who had spoken--“the famous -beauty--Diana May--is off to Paris.” - -These words created a certain stir in the smoking-room. Several men -looked up. - -“Oh, well! All lovely women go to Paris for their clothes!” - -“Pardon!” said a dark-visaged young man, coming forward from a corner -where he had been writing a letter, and speaking with a foreign -accent--“Did I hear you mention a lady’s name--Diana May?” - -Cleeve glanced him over with military frigidity. - -“I did mention that name--yes.” - -“Excuse me!--I am a stranger in London, and a friend has made me an -honorary member of this club for a short time--I knew a Miss Diana May -in Geneva--permit me----” And he proffered his visiting-card, on which -was inscribed: - - “_Marchese Luigi Farnese._” - -“I met Miss May,” he continued, “at the house of a very distinguished -Russian scientist, Dr. Féodor Dimitrius. She had come from England on -a visit to his mother, so I was informed. But I had an idea at the -time that she had arrived in answer to an advertisement he had put in -the Paris newspapers for a lady assistant,--of course I may have been -wrong. She was a very bright, rather clever middle-aged person----” - -“The Miss May I spoke of just now,” interpolated Cleeve, “is quite a -young girl--not more than eighteen or nineteen.” - -“Oh, then!”--and Farnese made a profoundly apologetic bow--“it cannot -be the same. The lady I met was--ah!--thirty-five or so--perhaps forty. -She left Geneva very suddenly, and I have been trying to trace her ever -since.” - -“May I ask why?” inquired Cleeve. - -“Certainly! I have for long been interested in the scientific -investigations of Dr. Dimitrius--he is a very mysterious person, -and I fancied he might be trying some experiment on this lady, Miss -May. She gave me no idea of such a thing--she was quite a normal, -cheerful person,--still I had my suspicions and I was curious about -it. She went with him and his mother to winter at Davos Platz--I was -unable to follow them there, as I had a pressure of business--but -I heard from a friend that Miss May was the ‘belle’ of the season. -This rather surprised me, as she was not young enough to be a ‘belle’ -unless”--here he paused, and uttered the next words with singular -emphasis--“Dimitrius had made her so.” - -Cleeve uttered a sharp exclamation and then checked himself. - -“This is not an age of fairy tales,” he said curtly. - -“No--it is not, but it is an age of science, in which fairy tales are -realised,” rejoined Farnese. “But pray excuse me!--I am detaining -you--you could not by chance give me the address of this young lady you -speak of?--the Miss Diana May you know?” - -“I do not consider myself entitled to do so,” answered Cleeve, coldly, -“without her consent.” - -Farnese bowed. - -“I entirely understand! If you should see her, you will, perhaps, do -me the kindness to mention my name and ask if she has ever heard it -before?” - -“I will certainly do that,” agreed Cleeve,--whereupon they parted, -Captain the Honourable with his mind in a giddy whirl, and his passions -at fever heat. Come what would he must see Diana before she went to -Paris! He must ask her about this Dimitrius,--for the story he had just -heard seemed to hang together with her own fantastic “obsession!” But -no!--ten thousand times no!--it was not, it could not be possible that -the “old” Diana could thus have been miraculously transformed! Even -Science must have its limits! He glanced at his watch. It was past nine -o’clock,--very late for a call--yet he would risk it. Taking a cab, he -was driven with all speed to Diana’s flat,--the servant who opened the -door to him looked at him in surprise. - -“Miss May and Mrs. Beresford have gone to Paris,” she said. “They left -this evening by the night boat train.” - -He retreated, baffled and inwardly furious. For one moment he was -recklessly moved to follow them across Channel next morning--then he -remembered, with rather an angry shock, that he was “the father of a -family.” Convention stepped in and held up a warning finger. - -“No--it wouldn’t do,” he ruminated, vexedly. “She”--here he alluded -to his fat wife--“she would make the devil’s own row, and I have -enough of her sulks as it is. I’d better do nothing,--and just wait -my chance. But--that exquisite Diana! _What_ is she? I _must_ know! -I must be off with the ‘old’ love, before I’m on with the new! But -_is_ she the ‘old’? That’s the puzzle. Is she the ‘old,’ or a young -Diana?” This was a question which was destined never to be answered, -so far as he was concerned. Diana had gone from him,--gone in that -swift, irrecoverable way which happens when one soul, advancing onward -to higher planes of power, is compelled to leave another of grosser -make (even though that other were lover or friend) to wallow in the -styes of sensual and material life. She, clothed in her vesture of -fire and light, as radiant as any spirit of legendary lore, was as -far removed from the clay man of low desires as the highest star from -the deepest earth. And though he did not know this, and never would -have been able, had he known, to realise the forceful vitality of her -existence, the same strange sense of physical weakness, tiredness and -general incapacity which had before alarmed him came upon him now with -such overwhelming weight that he could hardly drag his limbs across -the fashionable square in which his own house was situated. A great -helplessness possessed him,--and a thought, bitter as wormwood and -sharp as flame, flashed through his brain: “I am getting old!” It was a -thought he always put away from him--but just now it bore down upon him -with a kind of thunderous gloom. Yes--he was “getting old,”--he, who -had more or less contemptuously considered the “age” of the woman he -had callously thrown over sufficient cause for the rupture,--he, too, -was likely to be left out in the cold by the hurrying tide of warmer, -quicker, youthful life. The vision of the radiant eyes, the exquisite -features, the rose-leaf skin, and the supple, graceful form of the -marvellous Diana who so persistently declared herself to be his former -betrothed, floated before him in tempting, tantalising beauty,--and as -he opened his own house-door with his latch-key to enter that abode of -domestic bliss where his unwieldy wife talked commonplaces all day long -and bored him to death, he uttered something like a groan. - -“Whatever her fancy or craze may be,” he said, “she is young! Young and -perfectly beautiful! It is I who am old!” - - - - -EPILOGUE - - -It was night in Paris,--a heavy night, laden with the almost tropical -heat and languor common to the end of an unusually warm summer. The -street-lamps twinkled dimly through vapour which seemed to ooze upwards -from the ground, like smoke from the fissures of a volcano, and men -walked along listlessly with heads uncovered to the faint and doubtful -breeze, some few occasionally pausing to glance at the sky, the aspect -of which was curiously divided between stars and clouds, brilliancy -and blackness. From the southern side of the horizon a sombre mass of -purple grey shadows crept slowly and stealthily onward, blotting out by -gradual degrees the silvery glittering of Orion and drawing a nun-like -veil over the full-orbed beauty of the moon, while at long intervals -a faint roll of thunder suggested the possibility of an approaching -storm. But the greater part of the visible heavens remained fair and -calm, some of the larger planets sparkling lustrously with strange, -flashing fire-gleams of sapphire and gold, and seeming to palpitate -like immense jewels swung pendant in the vast blue dome of air. - -In the spacious marble court of a certain great house in the Avenue -Bois de Boulogne, the oppressive sultriness of the night was tempered -by the delicious coolness of a fountain in full play which flung a -quivering column of snow-white against the darkness and tinkled its -falling drops into a bronze basin below with a musical softness as of -far-distant sleigh-bells. The court itself was gracefully built after -Athenian models,--its slender Ionic columns supported a domed roof -which by daylight would have shown an exquisite sculptured design, but -which now was too dimly perceived for even its height to be guessed. -Beyond the enclosure stretched the vague outline of a garden which -adjoined the Bois, and here there were tall trees and drooping branches -that moved mysteriously now and then, as though touched by an invisible -finger-tip. Within each corner of the court great marble vases stood, -brimming over with growing blossoms,--pale light streaming from an open -window or door in the house shed a gleam on some statue of a god or -goddess half hidden among flowers,--and here in this cool quietness of -stately and beautiful surroundings sat, or rather reclined, Diana, on -a cushioned bench, her head turned towards her sole companion, Féodor -Dimitrius. He sat in a lounge chair opposite to her, and his dark and -brilliant eyes studied her fair features with wistful gravity. - -“I think I have told you all,” he said, speaking in slow, soft tones. -“Poor Chauvet’s death was sudden, but from his written instructions I -fancy he was not unprepared. He has no relatives,--and he must have -found great consolation in making his will in your favour. For he cared -very greatly for you,--he told me he had asked you to marry him.” - -Diana moved a little restlessly. As she did so a rosy flash glittered -from a great jewel she wore round her neck,--the famous “Eye of -Rajuna,” whose tragic history she had heard from Chauvet himself. - -“Yes,” she answered--“That is true. But--I forgot!” - -“You forgot?” he echoed, wonderingly. “You forgot a proposal of -marriage? And yet--when you came to me first in Geneva you thought love -was enough for everything,--your heart was hungry for love----” - -“When I had a heart--yes!” she said. “But now I have none. And I do -not hunger for what does not exist! I am sorry I forgot the kind -Professor. But I did,--completely! And that he should have left me all -he possessed is almost a punishment!” - -“You should not regard it as such,” he answered. “It is hardly your -fault if you forgot. Your thoughts are, perhaps, elsewhere?” He -paused,--but she said nothing. “As I have told you,” he went on, -“Chauvet has left you an ample fortune, together with this house and -all it contains--its unique library, its pictures and curios, to say -nothing of his famous collection of jewels, worth many thousands of -pounds--and as everything is in perfect order you will have no trouble. -Personally, I had no idea he was such a wealthy man.” - -She was still silent, looking at him more or less critically. He felt -her eyes upon him, and some impulse stung him into sudden fervour. - -“You look indifferent,” he said, “and no doubt you _are_ indifferent. -Your nature now admits of no emotion. But, so far as you are woman, -your circumstances are little changed. You are as you were when you -first became my ‘subject’--‘of mature years, and alone in the world -without claims on your time or your affections.’ Is it not so?” - -A faint, mysterious smile lifted the corners of her lovely mouth. - -“It is so!” she answered. - -“You are alone in the world,--alone, alone, alone!” he repeated with a -kind of fierce intensity. “Alone!--for I know that neither your father -nor your mother recognise you. Am I right or wrong?” - -Still smiling, she bent her head. - -“Right, of course!” she murmured, with delicate irony. “How could _you_ -be wrong!” - -“Your own familiar friend will have none of you,” he went on, with -almost angry emphasis. “To the world you once knew, you are dead! The -man who was your lover--the man who, as you told me, spoilt your life -and on whom you seek to be revenged----” - -She lifted one hand with an interrupting gesture. - -“That is finished,” she said. “I seek vengeance no longer. No man is -worth it! Besides, I _am_ avenged.” - -She half rose from her reclining attitude, and he waited for her next -word. - -“I am avenged!” she went on, in thrilling accents--“And in a way that -satisfies me. My lover that was,--never a true lover at best,--is my -lover still--but with such limitations as are torture to a man whose -only sense of love is--Desire! My beauty fills him with longing,--the -thought of me ravages his soul and body--it occupies every thought and -every dream!--and with this passion comes the consciousness of age. -Age!--the great breakdown!--the end of all for _him_!--I have willed -that he shall feel its numbing approach each day,--that he shall know -the time is near when his step shall fail, his sight grow dim,--when -the rush of youthful life shall pass him by and leave him desolate. -Yes!--I am avenged!--he is ‘old enough now to realise that we are -better apart!’” - -Her eyes glowed like stars,--her whole face was radiant. Dimitrius -gazed at her almost sternly. - -“You are pitiless!” he said. - -She laughed. - -“As _he_ was,--yes!” - -And rising to her full height, she stood up like a queen. She wore a -robe of dull amber stuff interwoven with threads of gold,--a small -circlet of diamonds glittered in her hair, and Chauvet’s historic -Eastern jewel, the “Eye of Rajuna,” flamed like fire on her white neck. - -“Féodor Dimitrius,” she said,--and her voice had such a marvellously -sweet intonation that he felt it penetrate through every nerve--“You -say, and you say rightly, that ‘so far as I am woman’--my circumstances -are not changed from what they were when I first came to you in Geneva. -But only ‘so far as I am woman.’ Now--how do you know I am woman at -all?” - -He lifted himself in his chair, gripping both arms of it with clenched -nervous hands. His dark eyes flashed a piercing inquiry into hers. - -“What do you mean?” he half whispered. “What--what would you make me -believe?” - -She smiled. - -“Oh, marvellous man of science!” she exclaimed--“Must I teach you your -own discovery? You, who have studied and mastered the fusion of light -and air with elemental forces and the invisible whirl of electrons -with perpetually changing forms, must I, your subject, explain to -you what you have done? You have wrested a marvellous secret from -Nature--you can unmake and remake the human body, freeing it from all -gross substance, as a sculptor can mould and unmould a statue,--and do -you not see that you have made of me a new creature, no longer of mere -mortal clay, but of an ethereal matter which has never walked on earth -before?--and with which earth has nothing in common? What have such as -I to do with such base trifles as human vengeance or love?” - -He sprang up and approached her. - -“Diana,” he said slowly--“If this is true,--and may God be the -arbiter!--one thing in your former circumstances is altered--you are -not ‘without claims on your time and your affections.’ _I_ claim both! -I have made you as you are!--you are mine!” - -She smiled proudly and retreated a step or two. - -“I am no more yours,” she said, “than are the elements of which your -science has composed the new and youthful vesture of my unchanging -Soul! I admit no claim. When I served you as your ‘subject,’ you were -ready to sacrifice my life to your ambition; now when you are witness -to the triumph of your ‘experiment,’ you would grasp what you consider -as your lawful prize. Self!--all Self! But I have a Self as well--and -it is a Self independent of all save its own elements.” - -He caught her hands suddenly. - -“Love is in all elements,” he said. “There would be no world, no -universe without love!” - -Her eyes met his as steadily as stars. - -“There is no such thing as Love in all mankind!” she said. “The -race is cruel, destructive, murderous. What men call love is merely -sex-attraction--such as is common to all the animal world. Children -are to be born in order that man may be perpetuated. _Why_, one cannot -imagine! His civilisations perish--he himself is the merest grain -of dust in the universe,--unless he learns to subdue his passions -and progresses to a higher order of being on this earth, which he -never will. All things truly are possible, save man’s own voluntary -uplifting. And without this uplifting there is no such thing as Love.” - -He still held her hands. - -“May I not endeavour to reach this height?” he asked, and his voice -shook a little. “Have patience with me, Diana! You have beauty, wealth, -youth----” - -She interrupted him. - -“You forget! ‘Mature years’ are in my brain and heart,--I am not really -young.” - -“You _are_,” he rejoined--“Younger than you can as yet realise. You see -your own outward appearance, but you have had no time yet to test your -inward emotions----” - -“I have none!” she said. - -He dropped her hands. - -“Not even an angel’s attribute--mercy?” - -A faint sigh stirred her bosom where the great “Eye of Rajuna” shone -like a red star. - -“Perhaps!----” she said--“I do not know--it may be possible!” - - * * * * * - -To-day in Paris one of the loveliest women in the world holds -undisputed sway as a reigning beauty. The “old,” now the “young” Diana -is the envy of her sex and the despair of men. Years pass over her and -leave no change in her fair face or radiant eyes,--a creature of light -and magnetic force, she lives for the most part the life of a student -and recluse, and any entertaining of society in her house is rare, -though the men of learning and science who were friends of Professor -Chauvet are always welcomed by their adorable hostess, who to them -has become a centre of something like worship. So far as she herself -is concerned, she is untouched by either admiration or flattery. Each -day finds her further removed from the temporary joys and sorrows of -humanity, and more enwrapt in a strange world of unknown experience -to which she seems to belong. She is happy, because she has forgotten -all that might have made her otherwise. She feels neither love nor -hate: and Féodor Dimitrius, now alone in the world, his mother having -passed away suddenly in her sleep, wanders near her, watchfully, but -more or less aimlessly, knowing that his beautiful “experiment” has -out-mastered him, and that in the mysterious force wherewith his -science has endowed her, she has gone beyond his power. His “claim” -upon her lessens day by day, rendering him helpless to contend with -what he imagined he had himself created. The Marchese Farnese, catching -a passing glimpse of her in Paris, became so filled with amazement -that he spread all sorts of rumours respecting her real “age” and the -“magic art” of Dimitrius, none of which were believed, of course, but -which added to the mystery surrounding her--though she herself never -condescended to notice them. To this day she holds herself apart and -invisible to all save those whom she personally chooses to receive. No -man can boast of any favour at her hands,--not even Dimitrius. And,--as -was said at the beginning of this veracious narrative--there is no end -for Diana May. She lives as the light lives,--fair and emotionless,--as -all may live who master the secret of living,--a secret which, though -now apparently impregnable, shall yield itself to those, who, before -very long, will grasp the Flaming Sword and “take and eat of the fruit -of the Tree of Life.” The Sword turns every way--but the blossom is -behind the blade. And in this Great Effort neither the love of man nor -the love of woman have any part, nor any propagation of an imperfect -race,--for those who would reach the goal must relinquish all save the -realisation of that “new heaven and new earth” of splendid and lasting -youth and vitality when “old things are passed away.” - - -THE END - - - - -Transcriber's Notes - - -A number of typographical errors were corrected silently. - -Cover image is in the public domain. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG DIANA *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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