“Those old Greek stories of gods and goddesses whose unveiled glory slew the mortals who dared to doubt them were quite true prophecies,” she thought—“only they did not penetrate far enough into the myth to discover the real scientific truth of how the mortal could put on immortality. Not even now, though the fusion and transmutation of elements every day discloses more and more marvels of Nature, they have not tested the possibilities of change which science may bring about in the composition of human bodies—that is for the future to discover and determine.”
At that moment Mrs. Beresford entered the room with a telegram.
“For you, Diana,” she said. “It has just come.”
Opening it, Diana read the message it brought.
“Professor Chauvet has died suddenly. Has left you his sole heiress. Please meet me in Paris as soon as possible to settle business. Your presence necessary. Reply Hôtel Windsor.—Dimitrius.”
The paper dropped from her hands. She had forgotten Professor Chauvet altogether! The crusty yet kindly old Professor who had asked her to marry him—she had actually forgotten him! And now—he was dead! She sat amazed and stricken, till the gentle voice of Mrs. Beresford roused her.
“Anything wrong, my dear?”
“Oh, no!—yet—yes!—perhaps a little! A friend has died suddenly—very suddenly—and he has made me his heiress.”
Mrs. Beresford smiled a little.
“Well, isn’t that good news?”