“On all and everything that has set me apart and alone as I am!” Diana answered. “Perhaps science can show me a way to it! If so, I shall not have lived in vain!”
“Diana!” exclaimed her friend. “One would think you were going to bring microbes in a bottle, or something awful of that sort, and kill people!”
“Not I!” and Diana laughed quite merrily. “Killing is a common thing—and vulgar. But—I have strange dreams!” She twisted up her hair dexterously and coiled it prettily round her small, compact head. “Yes!—I have strange dreams!” she went on. “In these times we are apt to forget the conquests possible to the brain,—we let fools over-ride us when we could far more easily over-ride them. In my ‘salad days,’ which lasted far too long, I ‘asked for love’—now I ask for vengeance! I gave all my heart and soul to a man whose only god was Self,—and I got nothing back for my faith and truth. So I have a long score to settle!—and I shall try to have some of my spent joys returned to me—with heavy interest!”
“But how?” inquired Sophy, perplexed. “You don’t expect to get any ‘spent joys’ out of this Dr. Dimitrius, do you?”
Diana smiled. “No!”
“And if he proves to be a charlatan, as he probably will, you say you’ll go as companion or governess or housekeeper to somebody out in Geneva—well, where are you going to find any joy in such a life as that?”
Diana looked at her, still smiling.
“My dear, I don’t expect anything! Who was it that said: ‘Blessed are they that expect nothing, for they shall not be disappointed’? The chief point I have now to dwell upon is, that I am to all intents and purposes Dead! and, being dead, I’m free!—almost as free as if my spirit had really escaped from its mortal prison. Really, there’s something quite vitalising in the situation!—just now I feel ready for anything. I shouldn’t mind trying an airship voyage to the moon!”
“With Dr. Dimitrius?” suggested Sophy, laughing.
“Well, I don’t know anything about Dr. Dimitrius yet,” answered Diana. “Judging from his advertisement I imagine he is some wealthy ‘crank’ who fancies himself a scientist. There are any amount of them wandering about the world at the present time. I shall soon be able to tell whether he’s a humbug or an honest man,—whether he’s mad or sane—meanwhile, dear little Sophy, let’s have breakfast and then go shopping. We’ve done with Pa and Ma—at any rate I have, bless their dear old hearts!—we know they’re ‘stunned with grief and horror’ and ‘beside themselves’ and as happy in their ‘misery’ as they ever were in their lives. I can see my mother getting fitted for her mourning, and ‘Pa’ arguing with the hatter as to the proper width of his hat-band, and all the neighbours calling, and proffering ‘sympathy’ when they don’t care a scrap! It’s a curious little humbug of a world, Sophy!—but for the remainder of my time I’ll try to make it of use to me. Only you’ll have to lend me some money to begin upon!”