Alone, Diana went to the window and looked out. What a glorious landscape was spread before her!—what a panorama of the Divine handiwork in Nature! Tears sprang to her eyes—tears, not of sorrow, but of joy.
“I hope I am grateful enough!” she thought. “For now I have every reason to be grateful. I tried hard to feel grateful for all my blessings at home,—yet somehow I couldn’t be!—there seemed no way out of the daily monotony—no hope anywhere!—but now—now, with all this unexpected good luck I could sing ‘Praise God from whom all blessings flow!’ with more fervour than any Salvationist!”
She went into the cosy bedroom which adjoined her salon to see if she looked neat and well-arranged enough in her dress to go down to tea,—there was a long mirror there, and in it she surveyed herself critically. Certainly that navy “model” gown suited her slim figure to perfection—“And,” she said to herself, “if people only looked at my hair and my too, too scraggy shape, they might almost take me for ‘young!’ But woe’s me!”—and she touched the corners of her eyes with the tips of her fingers—“here are the wicked crow’s-feet!—they won’t go!—and the ‘lines from nose to chin’ which the beauty specialists offer to eradicate and can’t,—the ugly ruts made by Time’s unkind plough and my own too sorrowful habit of thought,—they won’t go, either! However, here it doesn’t matter,—the Doctor wanted ‘a woman of mature years’—and he’s got her!” She smiled cheerfully at herself in the mirror which reflected a shape that was graceful in its outline if somewhat too thin—“distinctly willowy” as she said—and then she began thinking about clothes, like any other feminine creature. She was glad Sophy had made her buy two charming tea-gowns, and one very dainty evening party frock; and she was now anxious to give the “number” of the luggage she had left at the Salle des Bagages to Dr. Dimitrius, so that it might be sent for without delay. Meanwhile she looked at all the elegancies of her rooms, and noted the comfort and convenience with which everything was arranged. One novelty attracted and pleased her,—this was a small round dial, put up against the wall, and marked with the hours at which meals were served. A silver arrow, seemingly moved by interior clockwork, just now pointed to “Tea, five o’clock,” and while she was yet looking at it, a musical little bell rang very persistently behind the dial for about a minute, and then ceased.
“Tea-time, of course!” she said, and glancing at her watch she saw it was just five o’clock. “What a capital invention! One of these in each room saves all the ugly gong-beating and bell-ringing which is common in most houses; I had better go.”
She went at once, running down the broad staircase with light feet as buoyantly as a girl, and remembering her way easily to the room where she had breakfasted in the morning. Madame Dimitrius was there alone, knitting placidly, and looking the very picture of contentment. She smiled a welcome as Diana entered.
“So you have come back to us!” she said. “I am very glad! One lady who answered my son’s advertisement, went to see after her luggage in the same manner as you were told to do—and—ran away!”
“Ran away!” echoed Diana. “What for?”
The old lady laughed.
“Oh, I think she got afraid at the last moment! Something my son said, or looked, scared her! But he was not surprised,—he has always given every applicant a chance to run away!”
“Not me!” said Diana, merrily. “For he made me sign an agreement, and gave me some of my salary in advance—he would hardly expect me to run away with his money?”