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diff --git a/old/66320-h/66320-h.htm b/old/66320-h/66320-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 2213e3d..0000000 --- a/old/66320-h/66320-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16662 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Young Diana, by Marie Corelli—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } -hr.title {width: 65%; - margin-top: 0.1em; - margin-bottom: 0.1em; - border: thin solid black; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%;} - -hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%;} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} - -.gesperrt -{ - letter-spacing: 0.2em; - margin-right: -0.2em; -} - -em.gesperrt -{ - font-style: normal; -} - -/* Images */ - -img { - max-width: 100%; - height: auto; -} -img.w100 {width: 100%;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - - -/* Poetry */ -.poetry-container {text-align: center;} -.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} -/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry in browsers */ -.poetry {display: inline-block;} -.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} -.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} -/* large inline blocks don't split well on paged devices */ -@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } -.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block;} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - -/* Poetry indents */ -.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} - - -.illowp100 {width: 100%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp100 {width: 100%;} - - </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Young Diana, by Marie Corelli</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Young Diana</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>An Experiment of the Future</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Marie Corelli</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September 17, 2021 [eBook #66320]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>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)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG DIANA ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_cover" style="max-width: 20em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Cover" /> - </div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1>THE YOUNG DIANA</h1> -<hr class="title" /> -<p class="center gesperrt">MARIE CORELLI</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="title" /> -<h2>THE YOUNG DIANA<br /> -<small>AN EXPERIMENT OF THE FUTURE</small></h2> -<hr class="title" /> -<p class="center">BY<br /> -MARIE CORELLI</p> - -<p class="center">AUTHOR OF “THE LIFE EVERLASTING,” “INNOCENT,” -“ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS,” “BARABBAS,” -ETC.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p class="center">TORONTO<br /> -WILLIAM BRIGGS -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center"><i>Copyright, Canada, 1918</i>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">By Marie Corelli</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_YOUNG_DIANA">THE YOUNG DIANA</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">THE YOUNG DIANA</h2> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>passée</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Poor dear!” said the cook, thoughtfully—“she -do wear thin!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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—<i>he</i> -will! He’s <i>that</i> 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 <i>he</i>!—Ah! I shouldn’t -wonder if he outlasted us all!”</p> - -<p>“Lor, Mr. Jonson!” exclaimed the upper housemaid—“How -you do talk!—and you such a young -man too!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>Here the laughter broke out loudly, with little -cries of: “Oh! Oh!”—and the kitchen chatter ended.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Nobody knows I can do anything but check the -tradesmen’s books and order the dinner.”</p> - -<p>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!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>The other letter, written some years later, was -rather differently expressed.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</h3> -</div> - -<p>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 <i>rara avis</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>“Well, Diana!” sighed her mother, turning a fat, -buff-coloured cheek to be kissed, “is the house really -decent and comfortable?”</p> - -<p>“It’s lovely!” declared Diana, cheerfully—“I’m -sure you’ll be happy here, Mother! The garden is -perfectly delightful!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Too much mustard in this, as usual,” said Mr. -May, scraping his plate noisily.</p> - -<p>“Not at all,” retorted his wife, with placid obstinacy. -“If there <i>is</i> anything Marsh knows <i>how</i> -to make with absolute perfection, it <i>is</i> mayonnaise.”</p> - -<p>Marsh was the cook, and the cause of many a -matrimonial wrangle.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Diana smiled, gratefully.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Grace. Mother is coming upstairs -directly to lie down—will you see she has all she -wants?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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 <i>must</i> 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, <i>dis</i>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!</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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!’”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>fat</i> letter!”</p> - -<p>She opened it and read the dashing scrawl, still -smiling.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p> -“<span class="smcap">Dearest Di</span>,<br /> -</p> - -<p>“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!</p> - -<p>“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—<i>you</i> 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 <i>would</i> -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 <i>are</i> 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,</p> - -<p class="right"> -“<span class="smcap">Sophy Lansing</span>.”<br /> -</p> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center">“To <span class="allsmcap">ANY WOMAN</span> who is alone in the world <span class="allsmcap">WITHOUT -CLAIMS</span> on <span class="allsmcap">HER TIME</span> or <span class="allsmcap">HER AFFECTIONS</span>.</p> - -<p>“A <span class="allsmcap">SCIENTIST</span>, engaged in very <span class="allsmcap">IMPORTANT</span> and -<span class="allsmcap">DIFFICULT WORK</span>, requires the <span class="allsmcap">ASSISTANCE</span> and <span class="allsmcap">CO-OPERATION</span> -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</p> - -<p class="right"> -“<span class="allsmcap">DR. FÉODOR DIMITRIUS</span>,<br /> -“Château Fragonard,<br /> -“Geneva.” -</p> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I’ve just taken some tea to Mrs. May in her bedroom,” -she said. “And I thought you’d perhaps -like a cup.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Grace laughed and tossed her head.</p> - -<p>“Well, there’s time enough for that, miss!” she -replied. “<i>He</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>Diana, sipping her tea, looked at her, smiling.</p> - -<p>“If that’s the way you think, you shouldn’t -marry,” she said.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“But you love him, don’t you?” asked Diana.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Grace nodded emphatically.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>The sparkle of laughter quenched itself in Diana’s -eyes and left her looking weary.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>Diana held up a hand,—she smiled still, but a -trifle austerely.</p> - -<p>“That will do, Grace!”</p> - -<p>Grace coughed discreetly and subsided.</p> - -<p>“Is mother still lying down?” then asked Diana.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Again Diana laughed her clear, pretty laugh. The -somnolent habits of her parents were so enlivening, -and made home-life so cheerful!</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Who’s that? What’s that?” he called out, sharply. -“Don’t glide about like a ghost! Is it you, -Diana?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,—it’s me,” she replied, and came up beside -him.</p> - -<p>He gave her a casual look,—then sniffed and -smiled sardonically.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Diana coloured to the roots of her pretty hair.</p> - -<p>“It’s one of my washing frocks,” she submitted.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He yawned capaciously. “Only very young people,” -he repeated, closing his eyes. “Try and remember -that.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Polydore May opened his eyes and bounced -up in his chair.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Ross-Percival is a very beautiful woman!” -he snapped out. “One of <i>the</i> beautiful women of -society. And she’s married.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, she’s a grandmother,” murmured Diana, -smiling. “But you don’t tell <i>her</i> not to wear white.”</p> - -<p>“Good God, of course not! It’s no business of -mine! What are you talking about? She’s not my -daughter!”</p> - -<p>Diana laughed her pretty soft laugh.</p> - -<p>“No, indeed! Poor Pa! That <i>would</i> be terrible!—she’d -make you seem so old if she were! But -perhaps you wouldn’t mind as she’s so beautiful!”</p> - -<p>Mr. May stared at her wrathfully with the feeling -that he was being made fun of.</p> - -<p>“She <i>is</i> beautiful!” he said, firmly. “Only a jealous -woman would dare to question it!”</p> - -<p>Diana laughed again.</p> - -<p>“Very well, she <i>is</i> 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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>She rose from her seat a little startled, her cheeks -flushing with the stir of some inexplicable excitement -in her blood.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, did he? Then he’s quite decent?”</p> - -<p>“Quite!”</p> - -<p>“That daughter of his——”</p> - -<p>Here a snigger went round the “county” company. -They were discussing the new arrivals at their afternoon -tea.</p> - -<p>“Poor old thing!”</p> - -<p>“Must be forty if she’s a day!”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“They say she was jilted.”</p> - -<p>“No wonder!” And a bleating laugh followed -this suggestion.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Smother her!” said the Chivalrous Youth, drinking -his whisky.</p> - -<p>Everybody laughed. What a witty boy he was!—no -wonder his mother was proud of him!</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“She doesn’t play,” said the gloomy man. “She -told me so. She reads Greek.”</p> - -<p>A shrill chorus of giggles in falsetto greeted this -announcement.</p> - -<p>“Reads Greek! How perfectly dreadful! A blue-stocking!”</p> - -<p>“No! Really! It’s <i>too</i> weird!” exclaimed the -bridge-and-hunting lady. “I hope she’s not an ‘art’ -person?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Going off it?” queried the Chivalrous Youth, -having now drained his tumbler of drink.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t think so. The fact is—er—she—well, -she appeared to me to be rather—er—clever!”</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“One can always leave her out of a dinner invitation,” -said one woman, thoughtfully. “It will be -quite enough to ask Mr. and Mrs.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, quite!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>dolce-far-niente</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Thaw and dissolve itself into a dew!”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“There were some smart girls playing tennis to-day,” -he presently remarked. “One of them I -thought very pretty. She was about seventeen.”</p> - -<p>His wife yawned expansively. She made no comment.</p> - -<p>“She was my partner,” went on Mr. May. “As -skittish as you please!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Naturally!—it’s tennis,” murmured his wife, -drowsily.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be a fool, Margaret! I mean I keep people -amused.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure you do!” his “Margaret” agreed, as she -smothered another yawn. “You’re the most amusing -man I know!”</p> - -<p>“Glad you admit it!” he said, captiously. “Not -being amusing yourself, you ought to thank God -you’ve got an amusing husband!”</p> - -<p>This time Mrs. May emitted a bleating giggle.</p> - -<p>“I do!”</p> - -<p>“Now if it were not for Diana——”</p> - -<p>His wife opened her eyes.</p> - -<p>“What about Diana?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s an illness that cannot be cured with -Diana now!” sighed Mrs. May. “Quite hopeless!”</p> - -<p>“Quite.” And her husband gave his chronic snort -of ill-tempered defiance. “It’s a most unfortunate -thing—especially for <i>me</i>. You see, when I go about -with a daughter like Diana, it makes me seem so -old!”</p> - -<p>“And me!” she interposed. “You talk only of -yourself,—don’t forget me!”</p> - -<p>Mr. May laughed—a short, sardonic laugh.</p> - -<p>“<i>You!</i> My dear Margaret, I don’t wish to be -unkind, but really <i>you</i> needn’t worry yourself on -that score! Surely you don’t suppose <i>you’ll</i> ever -look young again? Think of your size, Margaret!—think -of your size!”</p> - -<p>Somewhat roused from her customary inertia by -this remark, Mrs. May pulled herself up in her chair -with an assumption of dignity.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“She’ll never see forty again,” said Mr. May, -tersely.</p> - -<p>Mrs. May rolled up her eyes in pained protest.</p> - -<p>“Why <i>say</i> it?” she expostulated. “You only give -yourself and me away! We are her parents!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t say it in public,” he replied. “Catch -me! But it’s true. Let me see!—why, Diana was -born in——”</p> - -<p>His wife gave an angry gesture.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>A faint whimper escaped her, and she put a filmy -handkerchief to her eyes.</p> - -<p>Mr. May took no notice. For women’s tears he -had a sovereign contempt.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>Us</i>,—and I—we—could -have gone about free as air. We need never -have mentioned that we had a daughter.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“After all, James, poor Diana does her best. She -is very useful in the house.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>in the way</i>. 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 <i>me</i>, they expect -my daughter to be quite a young person.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. May sank gradually back in her chair, as -though she were slowly pushed by an invisible finger.</p> - -<p>“<i>Do</i> they?” The query was almost inaudible.</p> - -<p>“Of course they do! And upon my soul, it’s -rather trying to a man! You ought to sympathise, -but you don’t!”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t I know she’s our child?” he snapped out. -“What do you keep on telling me that for?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>His wife yawned.</p> - -<p>“I dare say!” she admitted. “But I can’t help it.”</p> - -<p>“You want to go to sleep,—that’s what <i>you</i> -want!” said Mr. May, contemptuously. “Well, sleep!—I’m -going over to the Club.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Poor old dears!” she said, tenderly,—and again: -“Poor old dears!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She went out of the room noiselessly, and made -her way upstairs. She met Grace Laurie.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, miss. Can I do anything for you?” Grace -asked, for, as she often said afterwards, she “thought -Miss Diana looked a bit feverish.”</p> - -<p>“No, thanks very much!” Diana answered in her -sweet-voiced, pleasant manner. “Bed is the best -place for me. Good-night!”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I am free!” murmured Diana to the hushed -night. “Free!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Free!” she repeated, in self-scorn. “And what -is the use of freedom to me at my age!—and with -my face and figure!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</h3> -</div> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Where’s Miss Diana? Isn’t she up?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Not back yet?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir.”</p> - -<p>Mr. May pulled out his watch and glanced at it. -It was half-past nine. At that moment his wife -entered the room.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“My tea!” he repeated. “D’ye hear? I want my -tea!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. May rolled her pale eyes at him protestingly -as she lifted the teapot.</p> - -<p>“I hear perfectly,” she answered with an assumption -of dignity. “And please be civil! You can’t -bully me as you bully Diana.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. May handed him his tea across the table.</p> - -<p>“I wonder where she is?” she questioned, plaintively. -“I’ve never known her so late before.”</p> - -<p>“Went out at six,” said Mr. May, with his mouth -full of bacon. “The kitchen-maid saw her go.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. May rang a small hand-bell at her side.</p> - -<p>The parlour-maid answered it.</p> - -<p>“Hasn’t Miss Diana come in?”</p> - -<p>“No, ’m.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. May rubbed her small nose perplexedly.</p> - -<p>“Who saw her go out?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Again Mrs. May rubbed her nose.</p> - -<p>“Send Grace here.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, ’m.”</p> - -<p>Another minute, and Grace Laurie appeared.</p> - -<p>“Grace, did you see Miss Diana go out this morning?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“That’s not like Miss Diana, sir,” ventured Grace, -respectfully. “She never forgets anything.”</p> - -<p>“Another cup of tea, Margaret, and look sharp!” -interposed Mr. May, testily.</p> - -<p>Mrs. May sighed, and poured hot water into the -tea-pot. Then she addressed Grace in a low tone.</p> - -<p>“Ask the kitchen-maid just what Miss Diana -said.”</p> - -<p>Grace retired, and returned again quickly.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“You can go, Grace.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, ’m. Shall I just run out to the shore and -see if Miss Diana is coming?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. And tell her to make haste back—I want -her to do some shopping in the village for me.”</p> - -<p>Grace left the room, closing the door behind her. -A clock on the mantelpiece gave several little sharp -ting-tings.</p> - -<p>“What time is that?” asked Mrs. May.</p> - -<p>“Ten o’clock,” replied her husband, unfolding the -day’s newspaper and beginning to read.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Those white flannels have got rather tight for -you, haven’t they?” she suggested.</p> - -<p>He flushed indignantly.</p> - -<p>“Tight? Certainly not! Do they <i>look</i> tight?”</p> - -<p>“Well—just a little!—but of course white always -makes one appear stout——”</p> - -<p>“Stout! <i>You</i> talk about stoutness? <i>You!</i> Why, -I’m a paper-knife compared to you!—a positive -paper-knife! I believe you actually grudge my -wearing white flannels!”</p> - -<p>His wife laughed.</p> - -<p>“Indeed, no!” she declared. “It amuses me! I -rather like it!”</p> - -<p>“I should think you did!” he retorted. “Or, if -you don’t, you ought to!”</p> - -<p>She surveyed him pensively with round, lacklustre -eyes.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“You seem very reminiscent this morning,” interrupted -her husband, sharply. “Do white flannels -move you to sentiment?”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“I should think it is!” he agreed. “It’s more than -humorous! It’s comic! What d’ye expect? When -I think of what <i>you</i> were!—a nice little pink and -white thing with a small waist,—and see you <i>now</i>!”—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——”</p> - -<p>Here their mutual personal compliments were interrupted -by the hurried entrance of Grace Laurie, -looking pale and scared.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>Here she suddenly burst out crying. Mr. May -bounced up from his chair.</p> - -<p>“Deuce take the woman!—don’t stand there grizzling! -What’s the matter? Speak out!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. May stared feebly, her mouth opening slowly, -like that of a fish on dry land.</p> - -<p>“What—what is it, Grace?” she stammered. “You -frighten me!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Her voice rose to a high shrill pitch, and she wrung -her hands.</p> - -<p>Mrs. May struggled weakly out of her chair, and -then dropped heavily into it again.</p> - -<p>“Drowned! Diana! Don’t be foolish, Grace! -It’s not possible!”</p> - -<p>Mr. May seized his cap and threw it on his head.</p> - -<p>“Here, I’ll soon put a stop to all this nonsense!” -he said. “Let <i>me</i> 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! <i>Can</i> you be calm?”</p> - -<p>Grace caught her breath, and wriggled herself -away from the nip of his fingers.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, repeat what you said just now,—you -went down to the cove and saw——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Oh dear, oh dear!” moaned Mrs. May. “What -dreadful, dreadful things you are saying! What <i>are</i> -we to do? Oh, I feel so ill! My sweet Diana!—my -only, only precious child! Oh, James, James!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>couldn’t</i> drown!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“What time did the leddy coom down ’ere?”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“She was here a little before six, I’m told——”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Here Grace Laurie, who was with the other servants -watching, began to cry bitterly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Miss Diana!” she sobbed. “She was so good -and kind! Oh, poor, dear Miss Diana!”</p> - -<p>The old sailor patted her gently on the shoulder.</p> - -<p>“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’——”</p> - -<p>Mr. May coughed noisily.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Will you take my harm, sir?” he said.</p> - -<p>Mr. May stared at him angrily,—then, remembering -the circumstances, assumed a melancholy and resigned -air.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>And shaking it free from the sand and dripping -water, he put it in his jacket pocket, and resumed -his smoky meditations.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>her</i>; and -she had grown not exactly old, but <i>passée</i>—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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I cannot even put a wreath upon my darling’s -coffin!” she moaned. “And she loved flowers!”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>“How stupid of me!” she said. “She had no cause -to run away.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Towards dinner-time Mrs. May struggled out of -bed and sat up in an arm-chair, swathed in a voluminous -dressing-gown.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“James,” she said, quaveringly, “it’s <i>dreadful</i> to -have to remember what you said last night about -poor Diana!—oh, it’s dreadful!”</p> - -<p>“What did I say?” he asked, nervously. “I—I -forget——”</p> - -<p>“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 ‘<i>in the way</i>,’ 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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She went on, drearily:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>seem</i> -all that was conventionally correct,—to <i>seem</i> religious, -when she was not, to <i>seem</i> sorry, when she was -not, to <i>seem</i> glad, when she was not, to <i>seem</i> kind, -when she was not, to <i>seem</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“About midday,” replied Diana. “I felt comfortably -drowned by that time,—and I lunched at the -Stores——”</p> - -<p>“Drowned!” cried Sophy. “My dear, what <i>do</i> -you mean?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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, <i>incog.</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>She laughed; Sophy Lansing looked as she felt, -utterly bewildered.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>incog.</i>, -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 <i>that’s</i> all right! But about -the drowning business——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Diana!” exclaimed Sophy, vehemently. “You -are too provoking! Tell me all about it!—straight!”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Love you!” interrupted Sophy, heatedly. “You -dear goose! There’s no such thing as love in their -composition!”</p> - -<p>“Maybe not,” said Diana. “But if there is, -they’ve none to spare for <i>me</i>. 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!”</p> - -<p>“For ever!” echoed Sophy. “My poor dear -Diana——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“But how——”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Two of everything?” Sophy murmured bewilderedly.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>off</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>“Walked away? Where to?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“And here you’ll stay!” said Sophy eagerly. “Not -a soul shall know who you are——”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“I’ll lend or give you anything you want,” interrupted -Sophy quickly. “Surely you know that!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Sophy dear, are you becoming a pessimist?” -asked Diana, half smiling. “Surely it is a beautiful -world!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Diana took a neat leather case from her pocket -and drew out of it a folded slip of paper.</p> - -<p>“<i>You</i> sent me that!” she said.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Sophy threw an embracing arm round her and -kissed her.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“My dear Sophy, why should you <i>dis</i>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.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean to say that you’ll never go back -to the old folks?” asked Sophy.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Sophy frowned.</p> - -<p>“Selfish old brutes!” she said.</p> - -<p>Diana demurred.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>can</i> 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 <i>we</i> -make is when we fail to treat him as he treats <i>us</i>! -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.”</p> - -<p>Sophy clapped her hands.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“I <i>wanted</i> to believe,” interrupted Diana, with a -half smile—“I can’t honestly say I did!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Quite true,” said Diana, with a slight sigh. “But -I haven’t got two thousand a year, or anything a -year at all!”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Sophy, Sophy! In what?”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Diana had also risen, and as she stood upright, -very still, there was a curious look in her face of -expectancy and wonder.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she answered, slowly, “I felt one just now!”</p> - -<p>Sophy laughed merrily.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Her bright laughter pealed out again, and Diana -laughed too.</p> - -<p>“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 -<i>not</i> after the taste of ‘Pa’ or ‘Ma!’”</p> - -<p>“Am I to make a conquest of Dr. Féodor Dimitrius?” -asked Diana, playfully. “One would think -you had that sort of thing in view!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Not anything feminine of my age,” said Diana, -calmly. “He distinctly advertises for a woman of -‘mature’ years.”</p> - -<p>“That may be his cunning!” and Sophy looked -mysterious. “If we are to believe history, Cleopatra -was fifty when she enchanted Anthony.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Well, dress <i>does</i> 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!’ <i>What</i> -a sight that woman does look, to be sure!”</p> - -<p>“Poor mother! I tried to make her clothes sit on -her,” murmured Diana, regretfully. “But they -wouldn’t!”</p> - -<p>“Of course they wouldn’t! They simply <i>couldn’t</i>! -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!”</p> - -<p>Diana laughed.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>devoirs</i> 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.’”</p> - -<p>“Silly old noodle!” said Sophy. “He’d better not -come near <i>me</i>!—I should tell him a few plain truths -of himself which he would not like!”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>feelings</i>,—he has only just ‘impulses,’ of -anger or pleasure, such as an animal has—and he -doesn’t attempt to control either.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Diana smiled.</p> - -<p>“I! Dear Sophy, you expect miracles!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“My dear, you pay for dressing!” she said, enthusiastically. -“And—you mark my words!—you -don’t look ‘mature’ enough for that Dr. Dimitrius!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Look!” she exclaimed. “From your poor, afflicted -Pa! To announce the sad news!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!’”</p> - -<p>She laughed, adding: “I know he isn’t really -sorry for <i>my</i> supposed ‘death’; if the real, bare, brutal -truth were told, he’s glad!”</p> - -<p>Sophy Lansing paused in the act of opening the -letter.</p> - -<p>“Diana!” she exclaimed in a tone of thrilling -indignation. “If he’s such an old brute as -that——”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Here Sophy opened the letter and glanced at it. -Presently she looked up.</p> - -<p>“Shall I read it to you?” she asked.</p> - -<p>Diana nodded. With a small, preparatory cough, -which sounded rather like a suppressed giggle, Sophy -thereupon read the following effusion:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p> -“<span class="smcap">Dear Miss Lansing</span>,<br /> -</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p class="right"> -“Yours, in the deepest affliction,<br /> -“<span class="smcap">James Polydore May</span>.” -</p> -</div> - -<p>Diana had listened with close and almost fascinated -attention.</p> - -<p>“Of course it isn’t true,” she said, when the reading -was finished. “It can’t be true.”</p> - -<p>“What can’t be true?” queried Sophy, puckering -her well-arched eyebrows.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Sophy looked at her with a smile.</p> - -<p>“You are a curious creature!” she said. “Surely -Pa expresses himself very touchingly?”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” interrupted Sophy, “he thought it -would be in the papers, and that unless he wrote it -might be taken for someone else——”</p> - -<p>“He <i>knew</i> 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?”</p> - -<p>She laughed, and turned to the dressing-table to -complete her toilette. Sophy put affectionate arms -about her.</p> - -<p>“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!——”</p> - -<p>“But I shouldn’t do them!” laughed Diana. “Sophy, -have you <i>no</i> confidence in my mental balance?”</p> - -<p>“<i>I</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 <i>Hamlet</i>. I know a sneering cynic -who says that women are always ‘asking for love!’”</p> - -<p>Diana paused in the act of brushing out a long -bright ripple of hair. Her eyes grew sombre—almost -tragic.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>The words came impetuously from her lips, uttered -in that thrillingly sweet voice which was her -special gift and charm.</p> - -<p>Sophy’s bright eyes opened in sheer astonishment.</p> - -<p>“Why, Diana!” she exclaimed. “You talk like a -tragedy queen!”</p> - -<p>Diana shrugged her shoulders lightly.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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 -<i>pot-au-feu</i> of matrimony! Out of a thousand men -taken at random perhaps one will really <i>love</i>, 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!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Revenge?” Sophy gave a little start of surprise. -“You? You, always gentle, patient and adaptable! -<i>You</i> want ‘revenge’? On whom? On what?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>them</i>. 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!”</p> - -<p>“But how?” inquired Sophy, perplexed. “You -don’t expect to get any ‘spent joys’ out of this Dr. -Dimitrius, do you?”</p> - -<p>Diana smiled. “No!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Diana looked at her, still smiling.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>Dead!</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>“With Dr. Dimitrius?” suggested Sophy, laughing.</p> - -<p>“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>I</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!”</p> - -<p>“Any amount you want!” said Sophy, enthusiastically—“You -must have proper clothes to travel -in!”</p> - -<p>“I <i>must</i>,” 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!”</p> - -<p>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 <i>couturier</i> could hardly be said -to flatter when he declared that “Madame looked a -princess in it.”</p> - -<p>“Do princesses always look well?” she asked, with -a quaint little uplifting of her eyebrows.</p> - -<p>The great French tailor waved his hands expressively.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Madame! It is a figure of speech!”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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 <i>couturier</i> 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.</p> - -<p>“You never <i>could</i> look better in anything!” -declared Sophy. “Promise me you’ll wear it -when you make your first call on Dr. Dimitrius!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Diana’s blue eyes clouded with a touch of sadness. -She sighed a little.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“But didn’t you say you wanted to be loved?” -queried Sophy.</p> - -<p>“Does marriage always fulfil that need?” counter-queried -Diana.</p> - -<p>They exchanged glances—smiled—shrugged shoulders -and dropped the conversation.</p> - -<p>Two days later Diana left England for Geneva.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</h3> -</div> - -<p>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,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“In a wreath of mist,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">By the sunlight kiss’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And a diadem of snow.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“He is not suited yet?” she inquired.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Later on, she learned that the Château Fragonard -was situated some distance out of Geneva, and well -off the high road.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Exquisite!” murmured Diana to herself. “It will -be worth while trying to remain in such a paradise!”</p> - -<p>And she questioned the willingly communicative -<i>cocher</i> as to how long it might take to walk to the -Château?</p> - -<p>“About an hour,” he replied. “A pleasant walk, -too, Madame! One sees the lake and mountains -nearly all the way.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Dr. Dimitrius?” she queried.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Some clock-work thing,” she said half aloud. -“But where is its mechanism?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, where!” echoed a deep, rather pleasant voice -close at her ear. “That, as Hamlet remarked, is the -question!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“You are Dr. Dimitrius?” she said.</p> - -<p>He smiled. “Even so! I am he! And you——?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>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?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“When did you arrive from England?”</p> - -<p>“Two days ago.”</p> - -<p>“Have you stated to anyone the object of your -journey?”</p> - -<p>“Only to one person—an intimate woman friend -who lent me the money for my travelling expenses.”</p> - -<p>“I see!” And Dimitrius smiled benevolently. -“You have not explained yourself or your intentions -to any good Genevese hotel proprietor?”</p> - -<p>She looked up in quick surprise.</p> - -<p>“No, indeed!”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>not</i> made it,—and -that is well! You have never married?”</p> - -<p>Diana coloured—then answered with gentleness:</p> - -<p>“No. I am what is called a spinster,—an old -maid.”</p> - -<p>“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, <i>à la Marguerite</i>, unaware of -the Devil behind him! ‘Old maid’ is a coarse English -term,—there <i>are</i> 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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Quietly she answered:</p> - -<p>“That is so.”</p> - -<p>“Now you will remember I asked for ‘a courageous -and determined woman of mature years.’ You do -not look very ‘mature’——”</p> - -<p>“I am past forty,” said Diana.</p> - -<p>“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’?”</p> - -<p>She looked at him straightly.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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’!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Yes,—if you are indeed a student of Nature, you -surely know <i>that</i>! 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!”</p> - -<p>He paused,—and Diana gazed at him questioningly. -He smiled as he met her eager and interested -look.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>She flushed a little at the mere suggestion of praise -and sat silent.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Diana bent her head in assent.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“This would not vex or worry you?” inquired Dimitrius.</p> - -<p>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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he wheeled sharply round and stood, -facing her.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>me</i>? 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!”</p> - -<p>She smiled.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He still bent his eyes searchingly upon her.</p> - -<p>“You have a good nerve?”</p> - -<p>“I think so.”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He laughed, and his face lightened with kindliness -and humour.</p> - -<p>“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>I</i> shall suit <i>you</i>. Very -well. Your salary with me will be a thousand a -year——”</p> - -<p>Diana uttered a little cry.</p> - -<p>“A thou—a thousand a year!” she ejaculated. -“Oh, you mean a thousand francs?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Diana could scarcely speak; she was overwhelmed -by what she considered the munificence and generosity -of his offer.</p> - -<p>“You are too good,” she faltered. “You wish to -give me more than my abilities merit——”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Diana thought a moment—then laughed.</p> - -<p>“Yes!—in a policy of repression!”</p> - -<p>A humorous sparkle in his eyes responded to her -remark.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“About a hundred pounds.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Quite!” answered Diana—“And I shall obey you -in every particular.”</p> - -<p>“Good! Now come and see my mother.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“A little,” Diana admitted.</p> - -<p>“Play me something now!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Excellent! You have a rare gift!” he said. “You -play like an artist and <i>thinker</i>.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“It did not seem like two hours this morning,” -said Diana.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Au revoir!</i>” smiled Madame Dimitrius. “You, -Féodor, will be in to luncheon,—and you, Miss -May?——”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Madame took her gently by both hands and kissed -her.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>With a grateful look and smile Diana nodded a -brief adieu, and followed Dimitrius, who was already -in the garden waiting for her.</p> - -<p>“Women must always have the last word!” he -said, with a good-humoured touch of irony. “And -even when they are enemies, they kiss!”</p> - -<p>She raised her eyes frankly to his.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He looked surprised.</p> - -<p>“Have you had so little?” he queried. “And you -care for it?”</p> - -<p>“Does not everyone care for it?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Diana laughed—a gay, sweet laugh that rang out -as clearly and youthfully as a girl’s. He gave her a -quick, astonished glance.</p> - -<p>“I amuse you?” he inquired, with a slight touch -of irritation.</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed! But don’t be vexed because I -laugh! You—you mustn’t imagine that anybody -wants to make you ‘purr!’ <i>I</i> don’t! I’d rather you -growled, like a bear!” She laughed again. “We shall -get on splendidly together,—I know we shall!”</p> - -<p>He walked a few paces in silence.</p> - -<p>“I think you are younger than you profess to be,” -he said, at last.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Dimitrius looked pleased.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He smiled. “My morning’s work can wait,” he -said. “In fact, most of my work <i>must</i> wait—till -you come!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Madame is perhaps going to Vevy or to Montreux?” -he suggested, cheerfully. “The journey is -pleasanter by boat than by the train.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><i>“Ah, oui! Je comprends! Bonne chance, Madame!</i>” -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:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p> -“<span class="smcap">Dearest Sophy</span>,<br /> -</p> - -<p>“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 <i>bona-fide</i> 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, <i>au revoir</i>! 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.</p> - -<p>“Much love and grateful thanks for all your -help and kindness to</p> - -<p class="right"> -“Your ‘departed’ friend,<br /> -“<span class="smcap">Diana May</span>.” -</p> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>think</i>, 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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 -<i>edelweiss</i>, inscribed with tender mottoes suitable -for lovers to send to one another in absence,—and -before one window full of these she paused, smiling.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>his</i> 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 <i>edelweiss</i> from Switzerland to the men they -are in love with, ought just to see what those men -do with it! <i>That</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>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 -<i>dame du comptoir</i>, speaking very voluble French. -“Alas, we are sorry her stay is so short! Madame -goes on to Montreux, no doubt?”</p> - -<p>“Madame” smiled at the amiable woman’s friendly -inquisitiveness.</p> - -<p>“No,” she answered.—“And yet—perhaps—yes! I -am taking a long holiday and hope to see all the -prettiest places in Switzerland!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, there is much that is grand—beautiful!” -declared the proprietress. “You will occupy much -time! You will perhaps return here again?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! That is very likely!” replied Diana, -with a flagrant assumption of candour. “I have -been very comfortable here.”</p> - -<p>“Madame is too good to say so! We are charmed! -The luggage has gone to the station? Yes? That -is well! <i>Au revoir</i>, Madame!”</p> - -<p>And with many gracious nods and smiles and repeated -<i>au revoirs</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She gathered a rose hanging temptingly within -reach, and fastened it in her bodice.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>femme-de-chambre</i>,—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?”</p> - -<p>A low, organ-like sound as of persistent thudding -and humming echoed around her,—it suggested suppressed -thunder. The girl Rose looked quite unconcerned.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She went into the cosy bedroom which adjoined -her <i>salon</i> 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!—<i>they</i> 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,—<i>they</i> 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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Ran away!” echoed Diana. “What for?”</p> - -<p>The old lady laughed.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I think she got afraid at the last moment! -Something my son said, or <i>looked</i>, scared her! But -he was not surprised,—he has always given every -applicant a chance to run away!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Diana nodded a cheerful assent.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Dimitrius laughed as he took the number from -her hand.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“It’s only a portmanteau,” put in Diana, meekly. -“Not a Saratoga trunk.”</p> - -<p>He gave her an amused look.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t you bring any Paris ‘confections’?”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t wait in Paris,” she replied. “I came -straight on.”</p> - -<p>“A long journey!” said Madame Dimitrius.</p> - -<p>“Yes. But I was anxious to get here as soon as I -could.”</p> - -<p>“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 -<i>you</i>! 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?”</p> - -<p>He left the room. Madame Dimitrius laid down -her knitting needles and looked wistfully at Diana.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>She paused, with a slight trembling of the lip and -sudden moisture in her kind blue eyes.</p> - -<p>Impulsively, Diana took her thin delicate old hand -and kissed it.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Come in!” said the voice of Dimitrius. “Don’t -hesitate!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Come in!” again called Dimitrius. “Why do you -stand waiting there?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, yes! I’m so sorry and ashamed!” she -said. “Such a stupid weakness! But I have never -seen anything like it——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“You cannot?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</h3> -</div> - -<p>Diana listened to the quiet, emphatic tones of his -voice in fascinated attention.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>no</i> 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 -<i>we</i> live,—in this we <i>may</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Suppose I asked you to jump in?” he said.</p> - -<p>She thought a moment.</p> - -<p>“Well,—I should want to take off my dress first,” -she answered. “It’s a new one.”</p> - -<p>He laughed.</p> - -<p>“And then?”</p> - -<p>“Then?—Why, then I shouldn’t mind!” she said. -“I can swim.”</p> - -<p>“You would not be afraid?”</p> - -<p>She met his eyes bravely.</p> - -<p>“No—I should not be afraid!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“I mean just what I say,” she replied quietly. -“Father, mother, home, lover, youth, beauty and -hope! Isn’t that enough to lose?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“What is it?”</p> - -<p>His expression, as he turned and faced her, was so -rapt and transfigured as to be quite extraordinary.</p> - -<p>“It is life,—or it is death!” he answered. “It is -my Great Experiment of which <i>you</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He took the hand that lay upon his arm and kissed -it with grave courtesy.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I shall not betray it,” said Diana, simply.</p> - -<p>He smiled.</p> - -<p>“I know you will not,” he answered.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“I am thin—to positive scragginess,” interrupted -Diana, “but I am not delicate.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that may be; but you must keep strong. -You will need all your strength in the days to -come.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“You are not intimidated by anything I have -shown you?” said Dimitrius, then. “After all, you -are a woman and entitled to ‘nerves!’”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>must</i> think, -wait till you are alone with night and the stars!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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 <i>bonhomie</i>,—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.</p> - -<p>“And you come from England!” said Professor -Chauvet, blinking at her through his eyelids. “Ah! -it is a strange place!”</p> - -<p>Diana smiled, but said nothing.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>The Baroness Rousillon smiled.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Madame, I never argue with a lady!” he replied. -“First, because it is bad manners, and second, because -it is always useless!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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. <i>No</i> British female—he said -this inwardly—<i>no</i> 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.</p> - -<p>“Some man has had the making or the marring of -her!” he thought, crossly. “No woman ever turned -<i>herself</i> out with such <i>aplomb</i> and <i>savoir faire</i>!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you have known Dr. Dimitrius for -some time?” he asked.</p> - -<p>Diana thought for a second,—then replied -promptly:</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Really!” and Diana lifted her eyebrows in an -arch of surprise. “He has never given me that impression.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I agree!” said the Marchese. “And this is why -I cannot understand the action of Dimitrius in advertising -for an assistant——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, has he done so?” inquired Diana, indifferently.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Eccellenza, you are talking to a woman now,” -said Diana, calmly. “But never mind! Go on—and -don’t apologise!”</p> - -<p>Farnese’s dark olive skin flushed red.</p> - -<p>“But I must!” he stammered, awkwardly. “I ask -a thousand pardons!”</p> - -<p>She glanced at him sideways with a laughing -look.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed!” and Diana lifted her eyebrows again. -“Why?”</p> - -<p>The Marchese smiled a superior smile.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Diana laughed merrily—and her laughter was the -prettiest ripple of music.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Have you really?” said the Marchese. “That is -not to say you are suited?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Had you many applications?” inquired Professor -Chauvet.</p> - -<p>Dimitrius laughed.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Naturally!” and the Professor nodded sagaciously—“She -would be!”</p> - -<p>“What was she like?” asked Diana, with an -amused look.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I congratulate you on having succeeded!” said -Farnese.</p> - -<p>“Succeeded? In what way?”</p> - -<p>“In having got rid of her!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! But—I don’t think she wanted to go!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>all</i> 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 <i>my</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Laughter again rang round the table,—the Professor -rose, glass of wine in hand, and made Diana -a solemn bow.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Renewed merriment rewarded this <i>amende honorable</i> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“You do not smoke?” said the Marchese Farnese, -as Diana moved from her place.</p> - -<p>“No, indeed!”</p> - -<p>“You dislike it?”</p> - -<p>“For women,—yes.”</p> - -<p>“Then you are old-fashioned!” he commented, -playfully.</p> - -<p>“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:</p> - -<p>“Excellent! You have kept your own counsel -and mine, most admirably! I thank you with all -my heart!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Why do you imagine there is any mystery about -the Doctor’s works?” she asked him. “I know of -none!”</p> - -<p>“He would never let any <i>woman</i> 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——?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” put in Professor Chauvet. “So you know -your Byron! Then you are not one of the moderns?”</p> - -<p>Diana smiled.</p> - -<p>“No. I do <i>not</i> prefer Kipling to the author of -‘Childe Harold.’”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you!” said Diana in a small, meek voice. -“You are most kind!”</p> - -<p>Here Farnese rushed in again upon his argument.</p> - -<p>“That glass dome——”</p> - -<p>Diana smothered a tiny yawn.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s an astronomical place!” she said, indifferently. -“You know the kind of thing! Telescopes, -globes, mathematical instruments—all those -sort of objects.”</p> - -<p>The Marchese looked surprised,—then incredulous.</p> - -<p>“An astronomical place?” he repeated. “Are you -sure? Have you seen it?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, of course!” and she laughed. “Haven’t -you?”</p> - -<p>“Never! He allows no visitors inside it.”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>can</i> grasp anything in the way of mathematics, -can they?”</p> - -<p>Farnese hesitated.</p> - -<p>Chauvet interposed quickly.</p> - -<p>“They can,—but to my mind they cease to be -women when they do. They become indifferent to -the softer emotions——”</p> - -<p>“What emotions?” queried Diana, unfurling a -little fan and waving it slowly to and fro.</p> - -<p>“The emotions of love,—of tenderness,—of passion——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Dear English madame, you are pleased to be severe!” -said Chauvet. “Yet the soft emotions are -surely ‘woman’s distinguishing charm’?”</p> - -<p>She laughed.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Just then Madame Dimitrius spoke.</p> - -<p>“Dear Miss May, will you play us something?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“But you are an artiste!” exclaimed the Baroness -Rousillon. “You are a professional <i>virtuoso</i>, surely?”</p> - -<p>“Spare me such an accusation!” laughed Diana. -“I don’t think I <i>could</i> play to an audience for -money,—it would seem like selling my soul.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>His little eyes glittered ferret-like between his secretive -eyelids, and Diana smiled, seeing that he -spoke ironically.</p> - -<p>“This is an age of selling,” he went on. “The -devil might buy souls by the bushel if he wanted -them!—(and if there <i>were</i> 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 -<i>you</i> talk about ‘selling your soul!’ dear Madame, -with a thousand pardons for my <i>brusquerie</i>, you -talk nonsense! How do you know you have a soul -to sell?”</p> - -<p>Before she could reply, Dimitrius interposed,—his -face was shadowed by a stern gravity.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Play to us again, Miss May,” continued Dimitrius -in gentler accents. “You need be under no -doubt as to the existence of <i>your</i> soul when you -can express it so harmoniously.”</p> - -<p>She coloured with pleasure, and turning again to -the piano played the “Prélude” of Rachmaninoff -with a <i>verve</i> 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.</p> - -<p>“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, <i>chère Anglaise</i>!—I -never flatter—and you play superbly. May I call -you <i>chère Anglaise</i>?”</p> - -<p>“If it pleases you to do so!” she answered, smiling.</p> - -<p>“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! <i>Chère Anglaise</i>, you are -charming!—and if both you and I were younger I -should risk a proposal!”</p> - -<p>Everyone laughed,—no one more so than Diana.</p> - -<p>“You must have had considerable training to be -such a proficient on the piano?” inquired Farnese, -with his look of almost aggressive curiosity.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!” interrupted Diana, anxiously—“Please! -I could not play before many people——”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Dimitrius nodded.</p> - -<p>“They have their own mysteries, like everything -else,” he said.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>She laid a slight emphasis on the last word. Diana -smiled and understood.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>you</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Not old enough?” and Diana laughed. “Why, -what age ought I to be?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Diana flushed a little as he gave a meaning glance -at her graceful draperies,—then he added:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“This would be a night for a sail on the lake,” -said Dimitrius. “Some evening you must come.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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,—<i>themselves</i>,—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 <i>was</i> and <i>is</i> 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?”</p> - -<p>She turned her eyes away from the moonlit landscape -and looked at him with rather a sad smile.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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:</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Your soul is part of your life,” said Dimitrius. -“And you could not give that without giving your -life as well. I speak of <i>holding your life</i>,—that is to -say, <i>keeping it</i>. 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 <i>truly</i>, is the fault of the preponderating -animalism of the human race. If you -can follow me, still listen!”</p> - -<p>She listened indeed,—every sense alert and braced -with interest.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>after</i> death—but the world of <i>here</i> and -<i>now</i>—a world ‘for the few’ who know how to use <i>it</i>, -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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Thank you for all you have told me,” she said. -“I shall remember it. Good-night!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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, -<i>par excellence</i>. Once Diana asked him whether he -had a large practice? He laughed.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And are you always successful?” she went on.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He closed the conversation abruptly, and she perceived -that he had no inclination to talk of his own -healing power or ability.</p> - -<p>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 <i>must</i> 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 -<i>raconteuse</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>“Do you want me?” she asked.</p> - -<p>He advanced into the room.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>woman</i>, you should stipulate for the same -privileges as a British working man.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He looked at her intently.</p> - -<p>“What other things?”</p> - -<p>She hesitated. A faint colour stole over her -cheeks.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>in</i>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——”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>She glanced at him brightly.</p> - -<p>“You are very kind!”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Madame Dimitrius glanced wistfully from her son -to Diana, and from Diana back to her son again.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She looked at him, half amused, half indifferent.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“You were young once!” he suggested, meaningly.</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes, once!” and she sighed. “Once is a long -time ago!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>his</i> destiny in giving you—may I say -so?—a clever son,—myself! What more can any -woman ask of ordinary nature?”</p> - -<p>He laughed gaily, and putting his arm round his -mother, fondled her as if she were a child.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>will</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>She at once put aside her frame and rose.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He bent down and kissed his mother’s snowy and -still luxuriant hair, adding for her benefit:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Is it not enough?” said Diana, conscious of her -own “asking” in that direction.</p> - -<p>“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 -<i>vice versa</i>,—the closest ties are constantly severed——”</p> - -<p>“You are wrong, Féodor—we do <i>not</i> 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 <i>you!</i>”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>petite Maman</i>!”</p> - -<p>He left the room then and Diana followed him. -Once in the library he shut the door and locked it.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Diana went to the table desk where she habitually -worked, and took up some pages of manuscript, -neatly fastened together in readable form.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Stop!” exclaimed Dimitrius, in a strained, eager -voice. “Give me your papers!—let me see!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Dimitrius looked up.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>She obeyed. With his eyes fixed upon her face, -he went on:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>His eyes flashed,—his features were transfigured -by an inward fervour.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>first</i> 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 <i>Seven</i> 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.’”</p> - -<p>He put the papers carefully together on the table -beside him, and turned to Diana.</p> - -<p>“You have understood me?”</p> - -<p>She bent her head.</p> - -<p>“Perfectly!”</p> - -<p>“You recall the incidents of the first day of your -arrival here?—your brief visit to my laboratory, and -what you saw there?”</p> - -<p>She smiled.</p> - -<p>“Do you think I could ever forget?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Suppose I ask you to swallow this?” he said.</p> - -<p>For all answer, she stretched out her hand to take -the phial. He laughed.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>should</i> re-vivify—it <i>may</i> disintegrate,—but -I cannot guarantee its action. I know its composition, -but, mark you!—<i>I have never tested it on -any human creature.</i> 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——”</p> - -<p>“Well, my life is precious to nobody,” said Diana, -calmly. “Not even to myself. Shall I take your -‘little dram’ now?”</p> - -<p>Dimitrius looked at her in amazement that was -almost admiration.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 -<i>will</i>——”</p> - -<p>“One, two, three, and away!” said she, and taking -the tiny glass stopper from the phial she swallowed -its contents.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Well!” she said, aware that she trembled violently, -but otherwise not afraid: “It wasn’t bad! Not -much taste about it!”</p> - -<p>She saw that he was deadly pale—his eyes were -misty with something like tears in them.</p> - -<p>“You brave woman!” he said, in a low tone—“You -daring soul!—But—are you sure you are all -right?—Can you stand alone?”</p> - -<p>She drew away from his hold.</p> - -<p>“Of course! Firm as a rock!”</p> - -<p>He looked at her wonderingly,—almost with a -kind of terror.</p> - -<p>“Thank God!” he murmured—“thank God I have -not killed you! If I had——!”</p> - -<p>He dropped into a chair and buried his face in -his hands.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He raised his head and looked at her.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>you</i> 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 <i>have</i> felt;—just now I’m extraordinarily -glad to be alive!”</p> - -<p>“That is because you are conscious of a narrow -escape,” he said, with a keen glance at her. “Isn’t -it so?”</p> - -<p>She considered for a moment.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>do</i> -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!”</p> - -<p>She laughed, and clapped her hands.</p> - -<p>“That’s it! Doctor, you may thank your stars -that your first test has succeeded! Here I am, living!—and -<i>something</i> is dancing about in my veins -like a new sort of air and a new sort of sunshine! -It’s a lovely feeling!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said, after a pause, “your pulse is firmer—and -<i>younger</i>. 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!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</h3> -</div> - -<p>Once in her own pretty suite of rooms, Diana -locked the door of the <i>entresol</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>must</i> think!”</p> - -<p>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”?</p> - -<p>“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—<i>him</i>! -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!”</p> - -<p>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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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 <i>never</i> wore out. You should get that sort -of material—never mind how it <i>looks</i>!—only very -young people go in for mere fashion!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She was roused by a knocking at the door of the -<i>entresol</i>, and sprang up, remembering she had locked -it. Running to open it, she found the <i>femme-de-chambre</i>, -Rose, standing outside.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I <i>was</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Sleep is a great restorer, Madame! You look -so much better for an afternoon’s rest!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“I’m so sorry to be late!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Yes, she must have slept, I think,” put in Dimitrius -quietly and with marked emphasis. “She looks -thoroughly rested.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Féodor, don’t you see a great difference——”</p> - -<p>He made her a slight warning sign.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, whatever the circumstances might -portend, she was more disposed to mirth than gravity, -and the delicious <i>timbre</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Did you see?”</p> - -<p>The negro inclined his head, and his black lips -parted in a smile.</p> - -<p>“It is the beginning!” said Dimitrius, meditatively. -“But the end is far off!”</p> - -<p>Vasho made rapid signs with his fingers in the -dumb alphabet. His words were:</p> - -<p>“The Master will perhaps be over-mastered!”</p> - -<p>Dimitrius laughed, and patted the man kindly on -the shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Vasho, you are an oracle! How fortunate you -are dumb! But your ears are keen,—keep them -open!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Dimitrius smiled.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense!” interrupted his mother, with a slight -touch of impatience. “It’s not that sort of thing -at all! It’s something quite different!”</p> - -<p>“Well, what <i>is</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>“You are both in league against me!” declared -the old lady, shaking her head. “Féodor knows and -<i>you</i> know that you <i>are</i> quite different!—I mean that -you have a different expression—I don’t know what -it is——”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure <i>I</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 <i>feels</i> -well one looks well——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Diana glanced at Dimitrius questioningly, mutely -asking what she should say next. He gave her a -reassuring smile.</p> - -<p>“You are like a Grand Inquisitor, mother mine!” -he said. “And sharp as a needle in your scrutiny! -Perhaps you are right!—Miss May <i>is</i> 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?”</p> - -<p>She looked at him trustfully and with a great -tenderness.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>He laughed.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Bless you, my dear!” she said. “If you change -in your looks, do not change in your heart!”</p> - -<p>“That can hardly be guaranteed,” said Dimitrius.</p> - -<p>Diana looked at him.</p> - -<p>“Can it not? But I will be my own guarantee,” -she said. “I shall not change—not in love for my -friends. Good-night!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What have you done to her, Féodor? What are -you doing?”</p> - -<p>His eyes glittered with a kind of suppressed menace.</p> - -<p>“Nothing!” he answered. “Nothing, as yet! -What I <i>shall</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>“Féodor!” She gave a little cry of terror.</p> - -<p>“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!—<i>whatever</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>She looked at him in wonder and appeal.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“But <i>what</i> work?” asked his mother, anxiously. -“What result do you expect?”</p> - -<p>He rose from his kneeling attitude, and straightened -himself to his full height, lifting his head with -an unconscious air of defiance and pride.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>my</i> hand!”</p> - -<p>“Féodor! Oh, my son! Such arrogance is blasphemy!”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>not</i> -believe,—but there is no blasphemy in searching for -a truth as part of God’s mind, and devoutly accepting -it <i>when</i> 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 <i>not</i> blaspheme! I praise God with all -my heart,—I believe in Him with all my soul!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He bent his brows upon her almost sternly.</p> - -<p>“When you <i>do</i> 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?”</p> - -<p>She inclined her head gently.</p> - -<p>“You may!”</p> - -<p>He took her hand and kissed its soft, finely wrinkled -whiteness.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>think</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>“You think so?” And Madame Dimitrius looked -up with a smile.</p> - -<p>“I do think so, assuredly, but because I think so -it does not follow that any return can come from -<i>me</i>,” he said. “You are a person of sentiment—I -am not. <i>You</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>“You will not tell me what the experiment really -is?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>He broke off abruptly with a wonderful “uplifted” -look in his eyes. She came to him and laid her -gentle hands upon his shoulders.</p> - -<p>“A way which leads—where, my Féodor? Tell -me!”</p> - -<p>He drew her hands down and held them warmly -clasped together in his.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</h3> -</div> - -<p>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</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“The helmet and the plume</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of bold Sir Lancelot.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 -<i>he</i>——”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“If I be dear to some one else</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I should be to myself more dear.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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 <i>au grand -galop</i>. 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.</p> - -<p>“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,—<i>that</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>do</i> feel is the slight on -myself! That he should have callously allowed me -to wait all those years for him, and <i>then</i>—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!”</p> - -<p>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,—“<i>What would you give to be -young?</i>”</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“From all delusions of vanity, self-love and proud -thinking, good Lord, deliver me!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I want to speak to you,” she said. “Please give -me a few moments of your time.”</p> - -<p>“Now?” he queried, with a slight uplifting of his -eyebrows.</p> - -<p>She bent her head.</p> - -<p>“Now!”</p> - -<p>“In the library, then,” he said, and thither they -went together.</p> - -<p>On entering the room he closed the door behind -them and stood looking at her somewhat quizzically.</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“Well!” she echoed, slightly smiling. “Are you -wondering what I want to say? You ought not to -wonder at all,—you ought to know!”</p> - -<p>“I know nothing!” he answered—“I may guess—but -guessing is risky. I prefer to hear.”</p> - -<p>“So you <i>shall</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>He looked at her in something of surprise.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>un</i>-necessary, -you have not. For example—why don’t -you tell me just straight what you mean to do with -me?”</p> - -<p>His dark, lustrous eyes flashed up under their -drooping lids.</p> - -<p>“What I mean to do with you?” he repeated—“Why -what do you imagine——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He listened attentively to every word,—charmed -with the silvery softness of her voice and its earnest -yet delicate inflections.</p> - -<p>“I <i>do</i> 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——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He smiled—but his eyes were sombre with -thought.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>brusquerie</i>,—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.”</p> - -<p>She looked up, amazed—then laughed as gaily as -a child.</p> - -<p>“An electric battery!” she echoed. “Oh, dear, oh, -dear! I have imagined myself as many things, but -never <i>that</i>!”</p> - -<p>“And yet that is what you really <i>are</i>,” 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 <i>your</i> house -of clay—but the cells of the battery are dry—they -must be recharged!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“And you,—you propose to recharge them?” she -said, slowly and wonderingly.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>see</i> no difference -and <i>feel</i> no difference in yourself since yesterday?”</p> - -<p>She gave a quick sigh.</p> - -<p>“No, I cannot!” she replied. “I <i>do</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“And if it had,” interrupted Diana, with a smile—“what -would you have done?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>She laughed.</p> - -<p>“You really are a first-class scientist!” she said. -“No pity—no remorse—no regret——!”</p> - -<p>His eyes flashed up in a sort of defiance.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>“Why,” she asked, in purposely cold and even -tones—“have you chosen a woman as your ‘subject’? -Why not a man?”</p> - -<p>“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 -<i>naturally</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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!——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“No—I cannot!” she said, swiftly and humbly. -“Forgive me! But you deal with the impossible!”</p> - -<p>He loosened her hands.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>She looked at him, and a faint smile lifted the -corners of her mouth.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“You have put the case with perfect accuracy,” -he said. “That is so.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>She seated herself, and, turning over the papers -she had left, began to write.</p> - -<p>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——</p> - -<p>Moved by a sudden impulse, he approached and -bent over her as she worked.</p> - -<p>“Diana,” he said, very softly and kindly—“you -will forgive me if I have seemed to you callous, or -cruel?”</p> - -<p>Her heart beat quickly—she was annoyed with -herself at the nervous tremor which ran through her -from head to foot.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</h3> -</div> - -<p>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 <i>Her</i> 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 -<i>felt</i>—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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“A mystery!” she said—“as involved and difficult -to understand as my ‘master’ himself!”</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Suppose that he <i>should</i> 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 -<i>me</i> the crowning success of all his studies, I shall -hold him in the hollow of my hand!”</p> - -<p>Stimulated by this thought, she sprang up and -stood proudly erect, a smile on her lips and radiance -in her eyes.</p> - -<p>“With all his learning, his calculations and his -cold-blooded science,—yes—I shall hold him in the -hollow of my hand!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She set to work, while he pushed his spectacles -up from his eyes to his forehead and regarded her -with unassisted vision.</p> - -<p>“What have you been doing to yourself?” he -asked, then. “Are you sure you are quite well?”</p> - -<p>She looked up from the logs she was piling dexterously -together, surprised and smiling.</p> - -<p>“Quite well? Of course I am! Never felt better! -Do I look ill?”</p> - -<p>Professor Chauvet got up and stretched his legs.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She laughed, and gave him her hand. He pressed -his fingers on the cool, firm wrist.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“What is <i>what</i>?” 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!”</p> - -<p>He smiled a wry smile.</p> - -<p>“There you express the sum and substance of all -philosophy!” he said. “Plato himself could go no -further! All the same, there’s an <i>IS</i> about you that -<i>WASN’T</i>! What do you make of <i>that</i>? And if you -haven’t been doing anything to yourself what has -our friend Féodor Dimitrius been doing to you?”</p> - -<p>The question, though put suddenly, did not throw -her off her guard. She met it with clear, upraised -eyes and a look of wonder.</p> - -<p>“Why, what on earth should he do?” she asked, -lightly. “He’s giving me quite a pleasant time in -Switzerland—that’s all!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She laughed very merrily.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>The Professor stuck his hands deep in his pockets -and appeared to meditate.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>will</i> -occur!”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What a marvellous gem!” Diana murmured. -“And how beautiful! What do you call it?—a ruby -or a coloured diamond?”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Do they?” put in Diana.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>herself</i> 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!’”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Well! What do you think of it all?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>her</i> to pieces,—bit by bit!—he had -taken her ideals, her hopes and confidences, and cut -them all to shreds—and he had torn <i>her</i> heart out -from its place! Yes!—she was quite right!—a -traitor deserves a traitor’s death!—I would have -done the same myself!”</p> - -<p>He stared and glowered frowningly.</p> - -<p>“You? <i>You</i>,—a gentle Englishwoman?—you -would have done the same?”</p> - -<p>She took the jewel from its case and held it up -to the light, its red brilliance making her slender -fingers rosy-tipped.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Yet they are treacherous themselves pretty -often!” said the Professor.</p> - -<p>“When they are they are not real women,” declared -Diana. “They are pussy-cats,—toys! A true -woman loves once and loves always!”</p> - -<p>He looked at her askance.</p> - -<p>“I think you have been bitten, my dear lady!” he -said. “Your eloquence is the result of sad experience!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Yet you cherish the idea of vengeance?”</p> - -<p>She laughed a little.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know! I cannot say! But when one has -had life spoilt for one all undeservedly, one <i>may</i> -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——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Her face was clear and radiant now as she put the -jewel back in its case.</p> - -<p>“Yes, possibly! But I sometimes fancy I should -like to make sure that it <i>is</i> worse! I’m wickedly -human enough to wish to see him suffer!”</p> - -<p>“And yet he’s not worth such an expenditure of -nerve force!” said Chauvet, smiling kindly. “Why -not spare yourself for somebody else?”</p> - -<p>She looked at him with something of pathos in -her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Somebody else? My dear Professor, there’s not -a soul in all the world that cares for me!”</p> - -<p>“You are wrong,—<i>I</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!”</p> - -<p>She was so amazed that for the moment she could -not speak. He, perfectly calm and collected, continued -with a kind of oratorical fervour:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She rose from her chair and laid one hand on -his arm.</p> - -<p>“Dear Professor——” she began, hesitatingly.</p> - -<p>“Yes—that’s good!” he said. “‘Dear Professor’ is -very good! And after that, what next?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>The Professor took the hand that rested on his -arm and patted it encouragingly.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>He broke off—and to close an embarrassing sentence -gently kissed the hand he held.</p> - -<p>Tears stood in Diana’s eyes.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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 <i>salon</i> 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.</p> - -<p>“May I—may I——” she faltered, presently.</p> - -<p>“You may do anything!” replied Chauvet, soothingly. -“You may even box my ears, if it will relieve -your feelings!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I was rude to you the first night we met!” she -said, irrelevantly.</p> - -<p>“So was I to you,” he responded. “And you got -the better of me. That’s probably why I like you!”</p> - -<p>She hesitated again. Then:</p> - -<p>“May I wait——”</p> - -<p>“Of course!” he said. “Any time! Not too long—I -want to settle it before I die!”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“I should think she does!” interposed Chauvet. -“So should I!”</p> - -<p>She laughed again.</p> - -<p>“You really are very nice!” she said. “You ought -to have married long ago!”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>sou</i>!”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Her heart gave a quick throb.</p> - -<p>“Do you think him very clever?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>She bent her head.</p> - -<p>“And may I walk on air—buoyed up by hope—till -then?”</p> - -<p>She looked a little troubled.</p> - -<p>“Dear Professor, I cannot promise anything!” she -said. “You see I am taken altogether by surprise—and—and -gratitude—give me time to think!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He moved away from her to place the jewel in -his safe, and as he did so, said:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Where have you been all the afternoon?” he demanded, -at dinner, fixing his eyes upon her with a -piercing intensity.</p> - -<p>“With Professor Chauvet,” she answered. “I -wanted to see a famous Assyrian jewel he has—it is -called ‘The Eye of Rajuna.’”</p> - -<p>Dimitrius shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Nor I,” agreed Diana, amicably. “But it’s worth -seeing.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Of course!” he replied. “But I was not aware -that Miss May had any hankerings after jewels.”</p> - -<p>Diana laughed. She was amused to see him more -or less in a kind of suppressed temper.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“The Professor is not!” remarked Dimitrius, ironically.</p> - -<p>She raised her eyes, smilingly.</p> - -<p>“No?”</p> - -<p>“He’s a very worthy man,” put in Madame Dimitrius, -gently. “And very distinguished in his way. -He’s certainly not handsome.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see it anywhere on yours!” said Diana, -sweetly.</p> - -<p>A reluctant half-smile brightened his features for -a moment,—then he gave a disdainful gesture.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>She looked up, placidly smiling.</p> - -<p>“Certainly! I shall be very glad to go. Diana -will like it too, I’m sure.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He left the room. His mother and Diana looked -at one another in smiling perplexity. Diana laughed.</p> - -<p>“He’s cross!” she declared. “<i>Chère Madame</i>, he’s -cross! It is a positive miracle! The cool scientist -and calm philosopher is in a bit of a temper!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Well!” he said.—“Courageous as ever?”</p> - -<p>“Is there anything to be afraid of?” she asked. -“To me it looks wonderful!—beautiful!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And you will not part with any of it?”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“I am!” she interrupted, quickly.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“About me?” asked Diana, amused.</p> - -<p>“About you. Tell me, have you looked in your -mirror lately?”</p> - -<p>“Only just to do my hair,” she answered. “I avoid -looking at my own face as much as possible.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>She hesitated.</p> - -<p>“Well! I don’t want to be deluded into imagining -myself good-looking when I’m not.”</p> - -<p>He smiled.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>She had grown very pale, even to the lips,—but -she answered, quietly:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“You will think so again and yet again,” he said, -coolly. “And you <i>may</i> die! That’s all I have to say -about it!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter with you?” he asked. “Are -you angry?”</p> - -<p>“Who am I that I should be angry?” she retorted. -“I am only your slave!”</p> - -<p>He frowned.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Have I broken my promise?” she demanded.</p> - -<p>“No—not yet! But you look as if you might -break it!”</p> - -<p>She gave a slight, yet expressive gesture of contempt.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“When we are outside this place you can take it, -if you will——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>On a sudden impulse he sprang to her side and -seized her hand.</p> - -<p>“Diana! You think me a pitiless murderer!”</p> - -<p>She looked straight into his eyes.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“If I succeed you will have cause to thank -me——”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, of course!” she answered, composedly. -“You would not give such gifts to me because you -had any desire to make <i>me</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>And, smiling, she put the phial to her lips and -swallowed its contents.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He went to her side. “Diana!” he said, in carefully -hushed tones. “Diana——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Still dreaming, Diana?” he said, as gently as he -could. “Will you not come with me now?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“So it’s all over!” she said. “I’m here just the -same as ever! I was sure I had gone away!”</p> - -<p>“Where?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>She thought a minute, trying to recall her sensations.</p> - -<p>“No,” she answered, truthfully, “nothing.”</p> - -<p>“Good! Then I can proceed without fear,” he said. -“Enough for to-night—we will go.”</p> - -<p>Her eyes were fixed on the revolving Wheel.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>He was surprised at the quickness of her perception.</p> - -<p>“Yes—that is so,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Then it never stops absolutely dead?”</p> - -<p>“Never.”</p> - -<p>She smiled.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“I am equally pleased with <i>you</i>,” he said. “You -surpass all my expectations.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks so much!” and she curtsied to him playfully. -“May I say good-night? Will not your mother -wonder where we are?”</p> - -<p>“My mother is too sensible a woman to question -my movements,” he replied. “Come! You are sure -you feel strong and well?”</p> - -<p>“Quite sure!” she said, then paused, surprised at -the intense way he looked at her.</p> - -<p>“Have you ever heard these lines?” he asked, -suddenly:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Diana smiled happily.</p> - -<p>“Of course! Shakespeare’s utterance! Who else -has ever written or could write such lines?”</p> - -<p>“I’m glad you know them!” he said, musingly. -“They occurred to me just now—when——”</p> - -<p>He broke off abruptly.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Why?” asked Diana, surprised.</p> - -<p>“Why?” and a curious half-frowning expression -darkened his brows. “You must wait to know why! -You will not have to wait long!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>is</i>! -Good-night, dearest lady! You are always kind and -sweet to me—and I’m grateful!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter, mother mine?” he asked, -playfully. “You have seen her?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She looked up at his dark, strong face in mingled -fondness and terror.</p> - -<p>“You cannot re-create life, Féodor!” she said.</p> - -<p>“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, -<i>can</i>!—for is not the evolvement of his being only -‘a little lower than the angels’?”</p> - -<p>She sighed, half incredulous.</p> - -<p>“But beauty——” she said. “Actual beauty——”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“When will it be finished?” his mother asked.</p> - -<p>He smiled, and stooping, kissed her forehead.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“And then?”</p> - -<p>“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!’ <i>My</i> secret is -a part of the world to come!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</h3> -</div> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p> -“<span class="smcap">Dear Kind Friend!</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>“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!</p> - -<p class="right"> -“Affectionately yours,<br /> -“<span class="smcap">Diana</span>.” -</p> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 “<i>Boule de Neige</i>,” -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.</p> - -<p>“If they only knew my age!” she thought one -day. “If they only knew!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Madame Dimitrius regarded her earnestly.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>can</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>no</i> feeling!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Diana shook her head decisively.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“But—my dear girl!——” began Madame, in perplexity.</p> - -<p>Diana laughed.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“You don’t care!” echoed Madame, in bewilderment. -“Really and truly? You don’t care?”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>hardening</i>! 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 <i>nil</i>!” 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 <i>is</i> as splendid -as it <i>seems</i>! 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!”</p> - -<p>“But you must remember,” said Madame Dimitrius -gently—“you were very different in appearance -six months ago to what you are now——”</p> - -<p>“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; <i>they</i> -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>I</i> think!—however, -if our souls become angels when we die, -<i>they</i> will have a vast experience to look back upon, -dating from the beginning of creation!”</p> - -<p>“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.’”</p> - -<p>Diana shrugged her shoulders.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Dear me!” and Madame smiled—“you speak -very strongly, Diana! Especially when you assure -me that you cannot ‘feel!’”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I can feel hatred!” said Diana. “<i>That</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>“You are bitter, my dear!” commented Madame. -“I think it is because you have missed a man’s true -love.”</p> - -<p>Diana laughed and sprang up from her chair.</p> - -<p>“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, <span class="allsmcap">SUCH</span> 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!”</p> - -<p>“I’m too old,” said Madame Dimitrius, with a -slight sigh. “I wish Féodor would make <i>me</i> young -as he is making <i>you</i>!”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>me</i>!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Are you tired?” he asked. “Would you rather -not skate any more just now?”</p> - -<p>She gave him an amused look.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“You are the prettiest ‘girl’ here,” he answered, -with a smile. “Everyone says so!”</p> - -<p>“And what do you say to everyone?” she demanded.</p> - -<p>“I agree. Naturally!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Dr. Féodor, do you know I’ve had three proposals -of marriage since I’ve been here?”</p> - -<p>He smiled indulgently.</p> - -<p>“Ay, indeed! I’m not surprised! And you have -refused them all?”</p> - -<p>“Of course! What’s the good of them?”</p> - -<p>His dark eyes glittered questioningly upon her -through their veiling, sleepy lids.</p> - -<p>“The good of them? Well, really, that is for you -to decide! If you want a husband——”</p> - -<p>“I don’t!” she said, emphatically, with a decisive -little stamp of her foot on the frozen ground. “I -should hate him!”</p> - -<p>“Unhappy wretch! Why?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Love——” began Dimitrius, sententiously.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing!” he agreed, quietly. “But—you are -really rewarding my studies, Diana! You are growing -very pretty!”</p> - -<p>She turned from him with a gesture of offended -impatience and walked on. He caught up to her.</p> - -<p>“You don’t like my telling you that?” he said.</p> - -<p>“No. Because the ‘prettiness’ is your forced product. -It’s not <i>my</i> natural output.”</p> - -<p>He seized her hand somewhat roughly and held -it as in a vice.</p> - -<p>“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!’”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>no</i> 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 <i>may</i> -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!”</p> - -<p>A deep sigh broke from him and he released her -hand as suddenly as he had grasped it.</p> - -<p>“You have felt no ill effects from the treatment?” -he then asked, in a matter-of-fact tone.</p> - -<p>“No,” she answered. “None at all—except——”</p> - -<p>“Except—what?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Well, at any rate, you are not, physically speaking, -any the worse for receiving my treatment once -a fortnight?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>you</i>, 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?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She pushed open the swing door of the hotel and -passed in.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He looked up at the still sky,—the frostily sparkling -stars,—the snowy peaks of the mountains and -the bright moon.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She spoke in a purposely repellent manner, whereat -the bold intruder was rendered awkward and -abashed.</p> - -<p>“I know I should not address you without an introduction,” -he said stammeringly. “I hope you will -excuse me! But my old friend Polly——”</p> - -<p>“Your old friend—what?” drawled Diana, carelessly, -unfurling a fan and waving it idly to and -fro.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Dear me, how very sad!” and Diana concealed -a slight yawn behind her fan. “Poor girl!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>He sniggered again.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“We shall indeed!” Diana responded, ironically. -“Even <i>you</i> must have passed your twentieth birthday!”</p> - -<p>He got up a spasmodic laugh at this, but looked -very foolish all the same.</p> - -<p>“Did you—in these psychic days—think I might -be the drowned old maid reincarnated?” she continued, -lazily, still playing with her fan.</p> - -<p>This time his laugh was unforced and genuine.</p> - -<p>“<i>You!</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>“There are many people in the world of the same -name,” remarked Diana.</p> - -<p>“Quite so! You will excuse me, I’m sure, and -accept my apologies!”</p> - -<p>She bent her head carelessly and he moved away.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later Dimitrius approached her.</p> - -<p>“Come out on the terrace,” he said. “It’s quite -warm and there’s a fine moon. Come and tell me -all about it!”</p> - -<p>She looked at him in surprise.</p> - -<p>“All about it? What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He laughed,—then, as he saw she was about to -speak, held up his hand.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>real</i> exit—just -a stage one!—and came to me! Excellently -managed!—for now, being drowned and dead, as the -<i>old</i> Diana, you can live in your own way as the -<i>young</i> one! And you are quite safe! Your own -father wouldn’t know you!”</p> - -<p>She was silent, looking gravely out to sea and -the scarcely visible line of the Esterel Mountains.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>She turned her head and looked fixedly at him.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Of the <i>outward</i> change. But of the inward, -even <i>you</i> know nothing!”</p> - -<p>“Do I not? And will you not tell me?”</p> - -<p>She smiled strangely.</p> - -<p>“It will be difficult. But as your ‘subject’ I suppose -I am bound to tell——”</p> - -<p>He made a slight, deprecatory gesture.</p> - -<p>“Not unless you wish.”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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——?”</p> - -<p>Diana shrugged her shoulders.</p> - -<p>“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, <i>it is not human</i>!” He was vaguely startled -by her look and manner.</p> - -<p>“Not human?——” he repeated, wonderingly.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She uttered these strange words calmly and deliberately -in an even tone of perfect sweetness.</p> - -<p>A sudden and uncontrollable impulse of anger -seized him.</p> - -<p>“That is not true!” he said, almost fiercely. “You -know me for your master!”</p> - -<p>She bent her head, showing no offence.</p> - -<p>“Possibly! For the present.” And again she -looked lingeringly, gravely out towards the sea. -“Shall we go in now?”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“I shall not fail you,” she interposed quietly.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>She turned to him with a smile.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>lives</i>, on its present -line of change, it will be a life above you and beyond -you! That is what I wish you to understand.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“To this I belong!” she said, softly—“To this—and -only this!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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—<i>you</i> are not to be -seen. It is to be supposed that you have returned -to England. You follow me?”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>Diana, still caressing Madame Dimitrius’s fragile -old hand, sat placidly silent.</p> - -<p>“You are quite agreeable to this arrangement?” -went on Dimitrius—“You have nothing to suggest -on your own behalf?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing whatever!” she answered. “Only—how -long is it to last?”</p> - -<p>He raised his eyes and fixed them upon her with -a strange expression.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>are</i> 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?”</p> - -<p>“Assuredly! I will find you a chaperone——”</p> - -<p>“A chaperone!” Her eyes opened widely in surprise -and amusement. “Oh, no! I’m quite old -enough to travel alone!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Dimitrius gave her a sharp glance.</p> - -<p>“That old man is fond of you?” he said, tentatively.</p> - -<p>“Of course he is!” And she laughed again. “Who -would <i>not</i> be fond of me! Excellent Dr. Dimitrius! -Few men are so impervious to woman as yourself!”</p> - -<p>“You think me impervious?”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>must</i> be men without -feeling,—they could not do their work if they -‘felt’ things.”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Nothing is useless, surely!” put in Diana—“Not -even a grain of dust!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“At all risks?” his mother hinted, in a low tone.</p> - -<p>“At all risks!” he answered. “A political government -risks millions of human lives to settle a temporary -national dispute—I risk <i>one</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>Diana met his look with equal steadiness.</p> - -<p>“I do not even think about it!” she said—“It does -not seem worth while!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</h3> -</div> - -<p>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 <i>salon</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Chauvet looked doubtfully reflective.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Dimitrius glanced him over with an air of disdainful -compassion.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Can you give me her address?” at once asked the -Professor, eagerly.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Imagine it!” he thought—“That exquisite creation -of mine wedded to so unsatisfactory a product -of ill-assorted elements!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“You want me?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“You like the idea?” he said, looking at her somewhat -appealingly. She lifted her eyes—bright and -cold as stars on a frosty night.</p> - -<p>“What idea?”</p> - -<p>“This little trip on the lake?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” she answered. “It has been very -warm all day—it will be cool on the water.”</p> - -<p>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 -<i>One</i>!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“You had a garden-party to-day?” she queried.</p> - -<p>“Yes,—if a few people to tea in the gardens is a -garden-party,” he answered.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She offered no comment.</p> - -<p>“And you,” he continued in a voice that grew -suddenly eager and impassioned—“You are as you -are made!—as <i>I</i> have made you!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“As <i>I</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——”</p> - -<p>“Than yours?” she asked.</p> - -<p>The question stung him a little, but he answered -at once:</p> - -<p>“Possibly!”</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>Dimitrius, seated close beside her at the stern, -suddenly addressed her in a low, cautious tone.</p> - -<p>“You know that this is the first week in June?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She heard him, apparently uninterested, her face -still upturned to the stars.</p> - -<p>“For anything!” she repeated dreamily—“For an -End, or a new Beginning! Yes,—I quite understand. -I shall be ready.”</p> - -<p>“Without hesitation or fear?”</p> - -<p>“Have I shown either?”</p> - -<p>He ventured to touch the small hand that lay -passively outside the folds of her cloak.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She smiled.</p> - -<p>“I quite agree. But what crowds of women have -been so ‘crushed’ since the world began!”</p> - -<p>“They have been useful as the mothers of the -race,” said Dimitrius.</p> - -<p>“The mothers of what race?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“The human race, of course!”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>that</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>“True!—but Destiny has strange methods, and -their existence may have been necessary.”</p> - -<p>She shrugged her shoulders.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“But, to have no consciousness is death,” said -Dimitrius. “A ray of light is indifferent to joy. -Consciousness with intelligence makes happiness.”</p> - -<p>She was silent.</p> - -<p>“You are well?” he asked, gently.</p> - -<p>“Perfectly!”</p> - -<p>“And happy?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose so.”</p> - -<p>“You cannot do more than suppose? People will -hardly understand you if you can only ‘suppose’ you -are happy!”</p> - -<p>She flashed a look upon him of disdain which -he felt rather than saw.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“That is saying a great deal!” he rejoined. “But,—I -am a man—you are a woman. Women must -study conventions——”</p> - -<p>“I need not,” she interrupted him. “Nor should -you speak of my sex, since you yourself say I am -sexless.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Diana,” he said, presently, “I am beginning to -find you rather a difficult puzzle!”</p> - -<p>“I have found myself so for some time,” she answered. -“But it does not matter. Nothing really -matters.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing?” he queried. “Not even love? That -used to be a great matter with you!”</p> - -<p>She laughed, coldly.</p> - -<p>“Love is a delusion,” she said. “And no doubt I -‘used’ to think the delusion a reality. I know better -now.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He looked at her as he spoke and saw her smile—a -cruel little smile.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“And how many human beings have ‘soul,’ do you -think?” he queried, ironically. “Not one in ten million!”</p> - -<p>The boat ran in to shore and they landed. Diana -looked back wistfully at the rippling light on the -water.</p> - -<p>“It was a beautiful sail!” she said, more naturally -than she had expressed herself for many days. -“Thank you for taking me!”</p> - -<p>She smiled frankly up into his eyes as she spoke, -and her spiritualised loveliness thrilled him with -sudden surprise.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Madame Dimitrius looked at her in a scared way.</p> - -<p>“Alive? But of course! Surely, oh, surely, you -have never thought it possible——”</p> - -<p>“That Science may kill me?” Diana finished, carelessly. -“Very naturally I <i>have</i> 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 <i>can</i> 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?”</p> - -<p>“Then you are not satisfied?” asked Madame a -little sorrowfully. “You are not happy?”</p> - -<p>Diana moved to the open window, and with an -expressive gesture, pointed to the fair landscape of -lake and mountain.</p> - -<p>“With this I am happy!” she answered. “With -this I am satisfied! I feel that all this is part of -<i>Me</i>!—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!”</p> - -<p>“But, my dear Diana, the lovely face <i>does</i> belong -to you!” exclaimed Madame Dimitrius. “You are -yourself, and no other!”</p> - -<p>Diana looked at her rather wistfully.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>aura</i> of their personalities -remains though their bodies have perished. -Now <i>I</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 <i>within</i> the -picture—and no one seeing the picture could think -it was I!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Madame Dimitrius sighed.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Diana, it is a pity you were never made -a happy wife and mother!” she said, softly.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Madame at once rose to leave the room. But, -before doing so, she took Diana in her arms and -kissed her tenderly.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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 <i>nil</i>, 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 <i>not</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“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.”</p> -</div> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“And now”—she thought—“Now comes a far -greater plunge into the unknown than ever I could -have imagined possible!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“So you have come!” he said. “I am such a -sceptic that at this last moment I doubted whether -you would!”</p> - -<p>She looked at him steadfastly, but answered nothing.</p> - -<p>“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!’”</p> - -<p>“I will say it if you like,” she answered. “But -why should I? I have nothing to forgive!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, you will not see,—you cannot understand——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Diana,” he repeated, earnestly—“Say just this—‘Féodor, -I forgive you!’”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>you</i> are ready, <i>I</i> am!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“You are prepared,” resumed Dimitrius. “I have -left nothing undone. And yet—you are but woman——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He looked at her in undisguised admiration.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Smiling, she stretched out her hand:</p> - -<p>“Give me the cup!” she repeated.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Take it!” he said—“And may God be with you!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Quickly Dimitrius sprang to her side, picked up -the empty cup as it rolled from her hand, and -called:</p> - -<p>“Vasho!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Do not pray to <i>me</i>!” he said, harshly—“Pray -to your God, if you have one! <i>I</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!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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 <i>accuracies</i> -of God and Nature as to be almost sure she <i>will</i>! -Come!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>with</i> it!—ah, -my Vasho!—the devil himself may fumble in -vain!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I believe she is very well,” he answered, composedly. -“She has not complained.”</p> - -<p>“I hope she has nothing to complain of,” said -the old lady, nervously. “You promised me, Féodor, -that you would not let her suffer.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“You are sure?”</p> - -<p>“Sure!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“But you will not fail——”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Characterless?” repeated Madame Dimitrius, in -surprised tones—“Can <i>you</i> say that?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Well, as far as that goes, Diana tells me she is -equally indifferent,” said Madame.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“A power which <i>you</i> have given her,” interposed -his mother.</p> - -<p>“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>I</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!”</p> - -<p>“If your experiment succeeds as you hope,” said -Madame Dimitrius, “what will happen then? You -will let Diana go?”</p> - -<p>“She will go whether I ‘let’ her or not,” he replied. -“She will have done all I require of her.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Madame Dimitrius, busy with some delicate lacework, -looked up at him inquiringly.</p> - -<p>“Are you seeing Diana this evening?” she asked.</p> - -<p>He nodded assent.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He nodded again, and with a tender hand stroked -the silver bandeaux of the old lady’s pretty hair.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>He passed on then, and, entering his library, rang -a bell. Vasho appeared.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“<i>You</i> 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 <i>have</i> 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?”</p> - -<p>A quick sigh escaped him,—then remembering -Vasho’s presence, he shook off his temporary abstraction.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>you</i> were the -victim! Whatever happens, <i>you</i> are safe!”</p> - -<p>Vasho made expressive signs of apologetic humility -and appeal, to which Dimitrius gave no response -save an indulgent smile.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!—<i>she would not be there at all</i>! The stretcher -would be empty! Come,—I want your help with -these pulleys.”</p> - -<p>Vasho, striving to steady his trembling limbs, -went to his imperious master’s assistance as the pulleys -were unlocked and released.</p> - -<p>“Now, gently!” said Dimitrius. “Let the ropes -go easy—and pull evenly!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“My triumph! My work! My wonder of the -world!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Why do you kneel?” she asked. “Are you my -servant?”</p> - -<p>For one flashing second he was tempted to answer:</p> - -<p>“Your master!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Your slave!—if so you will it!”</p> - -<p>A smile of vague surprise crossed her features.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Surely I am your friend!” he said, rising from -his knees and approaching her more nearly. “You -remember me?—Féodor Dimitrius?”</p> - -<p>She passed one hand across her brow.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>she</i> is dead! <i>I</i> live!”</p> - -<p>She lifted her arms, the silver sheen of her mysterious -gleaming garment falling back like unfurled -wings.</p> - -<p>“I live!” she repeated. “I am the young Diana!—the -old Diana is dead!”</p> - -<p>Her arms dropped to her sides again, and she -turned to Dimitrius with a bewitching smile.</p> - -<p>“And you love me!” she said. “You love me as -all men must love me!—even <i>he</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>She indicated the stretcher with its white canopy -from which she had arisen. He was about to answer -her, when she stopped him.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Must I?” she asked. “You are quite enough in -love with me already!—but if you take my -hand——!”</p> - -<p>Her eyes, brilliant and provocative, flashed disdainfully -into his. He strove to sustain his composure.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Her light laugh rippled out again.</p> - -<p>“Oh, but I am <i>not</i> the same Diana May!” she -answered. “You have altered all that. I was old, -and a woman,—now I am young, and a goddess!”</p> - -<p>He started back, amazed at her voice and attitude.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>every</i> way!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Diana!” he half whispered—“Diana, you are -mine!—my sole creation!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Is your mother well?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“Quite well.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad. You will prepare her to see me to-morrow?”</p> - -<p>“I will!”</p> - -<p>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 <i>salon</i> -she turned on the threshold and fully confronted -him.</p> - -<p>“Thank you!” she said. “I hope you are satisfied -that your experiment has succeeded?”</p> - -<p>He was pale to the lips, and his eyes glowed with -suppressed fire,—but he answered calmly:</p> - -<p>“I am more than satisfied if—if you are well!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He was silent, standing before her with head bent, -like some disgraced school-boy.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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? <i>She is not a woman!</i> -Then—<i>what</i> is she?”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” she said, half laughing, “what Sophy -would say to me now! But, after all, what a far-away -person Sophy seems!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“No,” she said—“You are your master’s man. He -will need your help—when I am gone!”</p> - -<p>The negro’s countenance expressed a sudden dismay—and -she laughed.</p> - -<p>“Yes—when I am gone!” she repeated, “and that -will be very soon! I am made for all the world now!”</p> - -<p>His eyes rolled despairingly,—he made eloquent -and beseeching signs of appeal.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She paused here, interested in the puzzle of her -thoughts. Raising her eyes, she looked out at the -divine beauty of the night.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she went on musing—“That is the strangest -part of it!—I have <i>no</i> 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. <i>They</i> 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, <i>with</i> me and <i>for</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>She waited again, disentangling her mind from all -clinging or vague recollections.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Suddenly she laughed.</p> - -<p>“Pa and Ma!” she exclaimed—“I must not forget -<i>them</i>! Those dear, respectable parents of mine, -who only cared for me as long as I was an interesting -object to <i>themselves</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>“Captain the Honourable Reginald Cleeve!” she -said, in slow tones of emphatic scorn—“Especially -the Honourable! I must not forget <i>him</i>!—or his -fat wife!—or his appallingly hideous and stupid -children! I must look at them all!—and not only -must I look at <i>them</i>—they must look at <i>me</i>!”</p> - -<p>Her hand relaxed,—her eyes, limpid and lustrous, -turned again towards the open window and moonlit -summer night.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>is</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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>I</i> belong, and to Him I -may render thanks without fear.”</p> - -<p>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</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“A splendid angel newly drest</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Save wings, for heaven!”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Diana heard her with a gentle patience.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Madame Dimitrius uttered a pained cry, and then -began to sob hysterically.</p> - -<p>“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—<i>you</i> 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.</p> - -<p>Diana stood apart, making no effort to detain her. -A look of wondering compassion filled her lovely -eyes.</p> - -<p>“Poor woman!” she breathed, softly. “Poor weak, -worn soul!”</p> - -<p>Then suddenly she spoke aloud in clear, sweet, -decisive tones.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>A light of something like scorn flashed from Diana’s -eyes.</p> - -<p>“Is humanity so valuable!” she asked.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Why, mother!” he ejaculated—“what is this?”</p> - -<p>Diana stood at her half-open door, looking at them -both like a young angel at the gate of paradise.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>His brows contracted.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>She clung to him desperately.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>Then, and then only, he lifted his dark eyes,—they -were sad and strained.</p> - -<p>“I will arrange everything,” he said. “No doubt -the sooner we part, the better!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“She has gone?”</p> - -<p>“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! <i>my</i> creation! Through you she will leave -me altogether—and yet you say you love me!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>She smiled.</p> - -<p>“Must you?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Why?” she asked, in an amused tone—“I came -all alone!”</p> - -<p>“Yes—but it was different——”</p> - -<p>“You mean I looked ‘mature,’ then?” she laughed. -“Oh, well! Nobody will interfere with a girl returning -home from school in Geneva!”</p> - -<p>A pained smile crossed his face.</p> - -<p>“Yes!—you can play that part very well!” he -admitted. “But you cannot live alone without someone -to look after you!”</p> - -<p>She gave a light gesture of indifference.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He uttered an exclamation of impatience.</p> - -<p>“Why will you say that?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He looked at her in mingled doubt and wonder.</p> - -<p>“Diana!” he said, entreatingly—“Will you not -trust me?”</p> - -<p>“In what way?” she asked, with sudden coldness—“What -trust do you seek?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>A smile suddenly irradiated her lovely face,—so -might an angel smile in giving a benediction.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” he interrupted quickly—“That is just the -point. You say ‘merely’ human, as if you had -passed beyond humanity!”</p> - -<p>She looked at him steadily.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>His face grew stern and impassive.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And sorrow?” she queried.</p> - -<p>“Sorrow waits on us hand and foot,” he replied—“There -is no condition exempt from it.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He held her hand, and his dark eyes searched her -lovely face as though looking for a gleam of sympathy.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Why should you?” she asked, lightly. His grasp -on her hand tightened unconsciously.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She released her hand with a decided movement.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Something I shall never master!” he repeated, -as he went slowly homeward. “If woman I shall!—but -if not——”</p> - -<p>And here he checked his thoughts, not daring to -pursue them further.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She went on her way without trouble. The <i>chef -de gare</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>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 <i>en -route</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>The ladies glanced at each other and smiled.</p> - -<p>“Yes,—we have heard of her,” said one. “But I -hope she will not make <i>you</i> a Suffragette! Life has -much better fortune in store for you than that!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>One of her companions now took out her card-case.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Diana smiled as she accepted the card.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And don’t forget <i>me</i>!” 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.”</p> - -<p>Diana expressed her acknowledgment by a look, -reading on the second card now proffered: “Mrs. -Gervase,” and the address indicated.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Diana held out both hands.</p> - -<p>“Sophy, don’t you know me?” she said, smiling—“<i>Won’t</i> -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——”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Nonsense!” she said, sharply. “Whoever you -are, you can’t take <i>me</i> in! <i>My</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Smilingly Diana laid the watch she had taken -off down on the table.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“I had <i>a</i> letter,” replied Sophy, coldly, “from my -friend, Miss May.”</p> - -<p>Diana laughed again.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>me</i>! -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!”</p> - -<p>But here Sophy Lansing uttered a half suppressed -scream.</p> - -<p>“Go away!” she gasped—“You—you are a mad -girl! You’ve escaped from some asylum!—I’m sure -you have!”</p> - -<p>With swift dignity Diana drew herself up and -gazed full and pitifully at her quondam friend.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>“She is frightfully beautiful!” exclaimed Sophy at -last, in an outburst of excited feeling—“Simply unearthly! -Even if she <i>were</i> Diana, I could not have -her here!—with <i>me</i>!—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 <i>me</i>! My -poor old Diana! I wonder what has become of -her!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I wish I could stay with you!” he said, regardless -of convention.</p> - -<p>“I’m sure you do!” answered Diana, sweetly. -“Thank you so much! You have been most kind!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Are those people staying here?” she asked.</p> - -<p>The manageress looked where she pointed.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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——?”</p> - -<p>“No—I do <i>not</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>“She <i>is</i> stout,” agreed the manageress with a smile, -as she left the room.</p> - -<p>Diana stood still, absorbed in thought. Her features -were aglow with some internal luminance,—her -whole form was instinct with a mysteriously -radiant vitality.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Is that young lady staying here?” he now inquired—“The -one who has just gone out?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. She came two days ago from abroad. A -very beautiful girl, is she not?”</p> - -<p>Cleeve nodded.</p> - -<p>“Rather! I never saw anything like her. Do you -know who she is?”</p> - -<p>“Her name is May,—Miss Diana May,” replied -the manageress. “She was recommended here by,—dear -me! Is there anything the matter?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“No—no!” he answered, impatiently—“It’s nothing! -Are you sure that’s her name?—Diana May?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Cleeve pulled at his moustache nervously—then -gave a forced laugh.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“She seemed to know <i>your</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Is Mrs. Polydore May in?” she asked.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. May is in, but she’s resting and doesn’t -wish to be disturbed,” she replied—“Unless you’ve -some pertikler appointment——”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps Miss Preston——” suggested the parlour-maid.</p> - -<p>Diana smiled. Miss Preston! Who was she? A -new inmate of the household?—a companion for -“Ma”—and “young” enough for “Pa”?</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I have called to see Mrs. May”—she explained -“on very particular and personal business.”</p> - -<p>“What name?” inquired the girl, with a standoffish -air.</p> - -<p>“The same as her own. Kindly tell her, please. -Miss May.”</p> - -<p>“I really don’t know whether she will see you,” -said the girl, carelessly. “I am her secretary and -companion——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, in that case——But does she expect you?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>At that moment, a loud voice called:</p> - -<p>“Lucy! Loo—cee! Where’s my pipe?”</p> - -<p>Diana laughed.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Miss Preston’s face had suddenly flushed very red.</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell Mrs. May,” she stammered, and hurriedly -left the room.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon! Are you waiting to see anyone?”</p> - -<p>Diana rose, and her exquisite beauty and elegance -swept over his little sensual soul like a simoon.</p> - -<p>“Yes!” she answered, sweetly, while he stared like -a man hypnotised—“I want to see Mrs. May—and -<i>you</i>!”</p> - -<p>“Me!” he responded, eagerly—“I am only too -charmed!”</p> - -<p>“But I had better speak to Mrs. May first,” she -continued—“I have something very strange to tell -her about her daughter——”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Young?” suggested Diana, sympathetically.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>He approached her more closely with a “conquering” -smile. She repressed her inclination to laugh, -and said, seriously:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>At that moment Miss Preston returned and said:</p> - -<p>“Mrs. May will see you.” Then, addressing Mr. -May, she added: “This lady says she is some relative -of yours—her name is May.”</p> - -<p>Mr. James Polydore’s small grey-green eyes -opened as widely as their lids would allow.</p> - -<p>“A relative?” he repeated. “Surely you are mistaken?—I -hardly think——”</p> - -<p>“Please don’t perplex yourself!” said Diana, sweetly. -“I will explain everything to Mrs. May—she -will remember! Can I go to her now?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I have not the—the pleasure——” she began.</p> - -<p>Diana advanced a step or two, holding out her -hands. “Don’t you know me?” she said, at once—“Mother?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. May sidled feebly backwards like a round -rickety table on casters, and nearly fell against the -wall.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter? What on earth is the matter?” -they cried, simultaneously.</p> - -<p>Mrs. May, cowering against the wall, pointed at -her beautiful visitor.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Diana drew herself up like a queen addressing her -subjects.</p> - -<p>“I <i>am</i> 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 <i>were</i> my mother!”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>Diana laughed merrily.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Suddenly she said:</p> - -<p>“Is Grace Laurie still with you?”</p> - -<p>He stared, thoroughly taken aback.</p> - -<p>“Grace Laurie? My wife’s maid? She married -and went to Australia six months ago. How could -you know her?”</p> - -<p>“As your daughter Diana, I knew her, of course!” -she replied. “Poor Grace! She was a kind girl! -<i>She</i> would have recognised my voice, I’m sure. Is -it possible <i>you</i> don’t?”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“So she was—so she <i>is</i>!” said Diana—“<i>I’m</i> over -forty! But, Pa, why give yourself away? It makes -<i>you</i> so old!”</p> - -<p>She threw him such a smile, and such a glance of -arrowy brilliancy that his head whirled.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Diana drew her hand away from her father’s hold, -and her laugh, silvery sweet, rang out in a little peal -of mirth.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>leetle</i> old for -Miss Preston?”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Ah, I see your car? And no one with you? -Dear, dear! I wish I could escort you to—to wherever -you are going——”</p> - -<p>“No, you don’t—not just now!” said Diana, laughing. -“You’re too scared! But perhaps another -time——”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think this young lady knows where she -is going,” he said, confidentially. “Where did you -find her?”</p> - -<p>The chauffeur stared.</p> - -<p>“She’s at our hotel,” he answered—“And I’m driving -her back there.”</p> - -<p>Here Diana put her head out of the window,—her -fair face radiant with smiles.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, dear child!” he said. “Take care of -yourself! Be quite good! I—I will come and see -you at your—your hotel.”</p> - -<p>Diana laughed again.</p> - -<p>“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! <i>Do</i> remember that! -Ta-ta!”</p> - -<p>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 <i>tête-à-tête</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Pray excuse me!” he said—“I chanced to hear -your name—may I ask——”</p> - -<p>“Anything!” Diana answered, smiling, while Mrs. -Beresford, already alert, came closer.</p> - -<p>“I used to know,” went on the Captain, becoming -rather confused and hesitating—“a Miss Diana -May—I wondered if you were any relative——?”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>dear</i> wife!—and his <i>sweet</i> girls! -Yes!—<i>do</i> come! Mrs. Beresford and I will be <i>so</i> -pleased!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Cleeve tugged vexedly at his moustache.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He took the letter with a sudden qualm of -“nerves.” It was simple enough.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p> -“<span class="smcap">Dear Captain Cleeve</span>” (it ran),<br /> -</p> - -<p>“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?</p> - -<p class="right"> -“Yours sincerely,<br /> -“<span class="smcap">Diana May</span>.” -</p> -</div> - -<p>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!</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</h3> -</div> - -<p>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 <i>im</i>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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>demi-mondaine</i> 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 <i>my</i> -Diana——”</p> - -<p>“You’d like her to be, wouldn’t you?” chuckled his -friend. “But if she takes you for her father——”</p> - -<p>“She does—poor child, she does!” and James Polydore -May sighed. “You would hardly believe -it——”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”—and the friend chuckled again—“You’re -quite old enough!”</p> - -<p>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 <i>not</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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—<i>your</i> Diana—never -was drowned!”</p> - -<p>James Polydore’s mouth opened,—he stared, wondering -if he had heard aright.</p> - -<p>“Never was drowned?” he echoed, feebly.</p> - -<p>“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>I</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 <i>me</i>! 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.”</p> - -<p>Mr. May’s dumpy form stiffened visibly.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Sophy laughed.</p> - -<p>“Because I promised Diana I wouldn’t,” she answered. -“She knew and <i>I</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!”</p> - -<p>“Then—my daughter is—presumably—still -alive?” he said. “And instead of dying, she has—well!—deserted -us?”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, the girl came to see you, did she?” Mr. May -mumbled. “The—the adventuress——?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Mr. May put his hand to his bewildered head.</p> - -<p>“No—no—of course not!—I—I must tell Mrs. -May our daughter is alive—it will be a shock—of -surprise——”</p> - -<p>“No doubt!” said Sophy, sharply. “But she’s -dead to <i>you</i>! 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!”</p> - -<p>Mr. May winced. Then he drew himself up with -an effort at dignity.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“She’s the most beautiful thing ever seen!” he -said, suddenly and with determination.</p> - -<p>Sophy Lansing gave him an “all over” glance of -utter contempt.</p> - -<p>“What’s that to you if she is?” she demanded. -“Will you <i>never</i> recognise your age? She might be -your daughter—almost your granddaughter! And -you want to make love to her? Bah!”</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What a gallant little Pa it is!” she observed, lazily. -“I wonder what ‘Ma’ would say if she saw you!”</p> - -<p>He put on an air of mild severity.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Diana laughed.</p> - -<p>“Of course! Very much so! I should not be here -if she were not. Do I seem dead?”</p> - -<p>He made a gesture of impatience.</p> - -<p>“Tut, tut! If you <i>will</i> persist——”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>am</i> 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 <i>her</i> obstinacy, or <i>yours</i>! I -<i>am</i> Diana!”</p> - -<p>“<i>My</i> daughter,” said Mr. May, with emphasis—“is -in Geneva——”</p> - -<p>“<i>Was</i>,” interrupted Diana. “And <i>is</i>—here!”</p> - -<p>Mr. May gave a groan of utter despair.</p> - -<p>“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——!”</p> - -<p>Diana sprang off her sofa and stood erect, confronting -him.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Why should you come back?” she demanded. -“What do you want of me?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>At this he was fairly startled and he gave a gasp -of astonishment.</p> - -<p>“I remember the man my daughter was engaged -to,” he said. “His name was Cleeve. But he is -married——”</p> - -<p>“Very much so!” and Diana smiled. “But that -doesn’t prevent his making love to me—and I let -him do it! You see, <i>he’s</i> no relation!—and I don’t -consider his fat wife any more than he considered -me when he married <i>her</i> and threw <i>me</i> over! But -he’s like you—he doesn’t believe I’m the old Diana!”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>What a look there was in her eyes! James Polydore -shrank under it as though it blinded him.</p> - -<p>“Dare not? Done with him?” he echoed stupidly.</p> - -<p>She laughed, quite sweetly.</p> - -<p>“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’ <i>may</i> live together! Poor mother! -She never found out <i>all</i> your little ways!—some of -them she discovered by chance—but <i>I</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 -<i>ever</i>!—unless you accept the true position we occupy -of father and daughter—father growing old, -and daughter growing young!”</p> - -<p>Standing in the centre of the room, with the soft -ivory chiffon and lace of her “rest gown” trailing -about her like the delicate <i>cirri</i> floating across a -summer sky, she appeared like a vision of something -altogether beyond mere woman, and as the little -gross, sensual man who <i>had been</i> 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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“When you got the note I left for you at the -hotel,” she said, “surely you recognised my handwriting?”</p> - -<p>Still staring, he moistened his dry lips with his -tongue and tried to speak.</p> - -<p>“Your handwriting?” he stammered—“I—I -thought it very like the handwriting of—of another -Diana May I used to know——”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>passée</i>! 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?”</p> - -<p>He moved uneasily—there was something in her -aspect that stabbed him as though with physical -force and pain.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>was</i> -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——”</p> - -<p>“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. <i>You</i> have not -grown younger!”</p> - -<p>He reddened. His personal vanity as “an officer -and a gentleman” was far greater than that of any -woman.</p> - -<p>“If we live, we are bound to grow older——” he -said.</p> - -<p>“Sometimes,” acquiesced Diana, pleasantly. “It -is not always necessary. In my case, for example——”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>From a quaint blue velvet bag hanging at her side -by a silver chain, she drew a folded paper and handed -it to him.</p> - -<p>With eyes that grew hot and dim in giddy perplexity, -he read his own writing:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“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.”</p> -</div> - -<p>His hand,—the massive, veiny hand of a man accustomed -to “do himself well,” trembled, and the -paper shook between his fingers.</p> - -<p>“Where did you get this?” he asked, unsteadily—“It—it -was written quite a long time ago!”</p> - -<p>“You sent it to me,” replied Diana. “I returned -all your other letters, but I kept that one,—and -this.”</p> - -<p>Another note was drawn daintily out from the -blue velvet bag, and she handed it to him with a -smile.</p> - -<p>Again his burning eyes travelled along his own -familiar scrawl:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“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.”</p> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Well!” she said, tentatively.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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—<i>you</i>!”</p> - -<p>He sprang up from his chair and came nearer to -her, his face aglow with ardour. She motioned him -back.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>old</i> lovers! And <i>you</i>—you -are married.”</p> - -<p>“What does that matter?” he said, defiantly. “No -man considers himself bound nowadays by the matrimonial -tie!”</p> - -<p>“No?” she queried, sweetly. “I’m so glad to know -that! It makes me doubly thankful that I never -married you!”</p> - -<p>He made a closer step to her side and caught both -her hands in his.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>She smiled most entrancingly up into the feverish -eyes that searched her face.</p> - -<p>“I still persist!” she answered—“I have always -loved telling the truth, no matter how unpleasant! -I <i>am</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>His grasp of her tightened.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Come back to you!” she echoed—“I never left -you! It was you who left <i>me</i>!—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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“You are quite unlike the old Diana,” he said, bitterly. -“She was the gentlest of creatures,—she -would never have mocked me!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Well, if you <i>will</i> talk like this,” he said, almost -reproachfully—“I had better not trouble you with -my company—you said you wanted me——”</p> - -<p>“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!’ <i>Au revoir!</i>”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“There, that will do!” she said—“Another -time——”</p> - -<p>She gave him a look that shot like lightning from -her eyes into his brain, and set it in a whirl.</p> - -<p>“Diana!” He uttered the name as if it were a -prayer.</p> - -<p>“Another time!” she said, in a low, sweet tone—“And—quite -soon! But—go now!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“For he has soiled them!” she said—“They are -outraged by his touch!”</p> - -<p>A deep scorn gathered in her eyes like growing -darkness.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>At that moment Mrs. Beresford entered the room -with a telegram.</p> - -<p>“For you, Diana,” she said. “It has just come.”</p> - -<p>Opening it, Diana read the message it brought.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“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.—<span class="smcap">Dimitrius.</span>”</p> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Anything wrong, my dear?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!—yet—yes!—perhaps a little! A friend -has died suddenly—very suddenly—and he has made -me his heiress.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Beresford smiled a little.</p> - -<p>“Well, isn’t that good news?”</p> - -<p>For the first time since her “awakening” under -the fiery ordeal of Dimitrius’s experiment, she experienced -a painful thrill of real “feeling.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“We must go to Paris,” she said. “We can easily -start to-morrow. I will answer this wire—and then -write.”</p> - -<p>She pencilled a brief reply:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Deeply grieved. Will come as soon as possible.—<span class="smcap">Diana.</span>”</p> -</div> - -<p>—and ringing the bell, bade the servant who answered -the summons take it to the telegraph office -and send it off without delay.</p> - -<p>“Yes—I am very sorry!” she said again to Mrs. -Beresford—“I reproach myself for needless cruelty.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Beresford, mild-eyed and grey-haired, looked -at her half timidly, half affectionately.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid, my dear, you <i>are</i> cruel!—just a little!” -she said. “You make havoc in so many hearts!—and -you do not seem to care!”</p> - -<p>Diana shrugged her shoulders.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Then, noting Mrs. Beresford’s rather pained expression, -she smiled. “I seem hard, don’t I? But -I have had experience——”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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!’”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 -<i>de</i>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!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p> -“<span class="smcap">To Reginald Cleeve.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>“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’</p> - -<p> -“<span class="smcap">Diana.</span>”<br /> -</p> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What’s up?” asked an acquaintance seated near -him.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“By the way,” he said, to the man who had -spoken—“the famous beauty—Diana May—is off to -Paris.”</p> - -<p>These words created a certain stir in the smoking-room. -Several men looked up.</p> - -<p>“Oh, well! All lovely women go to Paris for their -clothes!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Cleeve glanced him over with military frigidity.</p> - -<p>“I did mention that name—yes.”</p> - -<p>“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:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<i>Marchese Luigi Farnese.</i>”</p> -</div> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“The Miss May I spoke of just now,” interpolated -Cleeve, “is quite a young girl—not more than eighteen -or nineteen.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“May I ask why?” inquired Cleeve.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Cleeve uttered a sharp exclamation and then -checked himself.</p> - -<p>“This is not an age of fairy tales,” he said curtly.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“I do not consider myself entitled to do so,” answered -Cleeve, coldly, “without her consent.”</p> - -<p>Farnese bowed.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Miss May and Mrs. Beresford have gone to -Paris,” she said. “They left this evening by the -night boat train.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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! <i>What</i> is -she? I <i>must</i> know! I must be off with the ‘old’ -love, before I’m on with the new! But <i>is</i> 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.</p> - -<p>“Whatever her fancy or craze may be,” he said, -“she is young! Young and perfectly beautiful! It -is I who am old!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="EPILOGUE">EPILOGUE</h3> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she answered—“That is true. But—I forgot!”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“You look indifferent,” he said, “and no doubt -you <i>are</i> 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?”</p> - -<p>A faint, mysterious smile lifted the corners of her -lovely mouth.</p> - -<p>“It is so!” she answered.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Still smiling, she bent her head.</p> - -<p>“Right, of course!” she murmured, with delicate -irony. “How could <i>you</i> be wrong!”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>She lifted one hand with an interrupting gesture.</p> - -<p>“That is finished,” she said. “I seek vengeance no -longer. No man is worth it! Besides, I <i>am</i> -avenged.”</p> - -<p>She half rose from her reclining attitude, and he -waited for her next word.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>him</i>!—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!’”</p> - -<p>Her eyes glowed like stars,—her whole face was -radiant. Dimitrius gazed at her almost sternly.</p> - -<p>“You are pitiless!” he said.</p> - -<p>She laughed.</p> - -<p>“As <i>he</i> was,—yes!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>He lifted himself in his chair, gripping both arms -of it with clenched nervous hands. His dark eyes -flashed a piercing inquiry into hers.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” he half whispered. “What—what -would you make me believe?”</p> - -<p>She smiled.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>He sprang up and approached her.</p> - -<p>“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>I</i> claim both! -I have made you as you are!—you are mine!”</p> - -<p>She smiled proudly and retreated a step or two.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He caught her hands suddenly.</p> - -<p>“Love is in all elements,” he said. “There would -be no world, no universe without love!”</p> - -<p>Her eyes met his as steadily as stars.</p> - -<p>“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. -<i>Why</i>, 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.”</p> - -<p>He still held her hands.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>She interrupted him.</p> - -<p>“You forget! ‘Mature years’ are in my brain and -heart,—I am not really young.”</p> - -<p>“You <i>are</i>,” 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——”</p> - -<p>“I have none!” she said.</p> - -<p>He dropped her hands.</p> - -<p>“Not even an angel’s attribute—mercy?”</p> - -<p>A faint sigh stirred her bosom where the great -“Eye of Rajuna” shone like a red star.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps!——” she said—“I do not know—it may -be possible!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p class="center">THE END</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes"> -Transcriber's Notes -</h2> - -<p>A number of typographical errors were corrected silently.</p> - -<p>Cover image is in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG DIANA ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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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