Diana looked from one to the other. There was a point in which she was the foolishest of women. She liked to satisfy other people, to give them the things they wanted. When she saw a secret coveting in anybody’s eyes, instead of disapproving and reproving, the immediate thought in her mind was how she could get them what they wanted. Perhaps this was a temptation which she would not have felt had she always been Miss Trelawny of the Chase, accustomed from her cradle to be better off than other people, and feeling it natural. But the new power of giving, and of gratifying those wishes which she remembered to have entertained herself without being able to gratify them, was very pleasant to her, and she could not resist it. She was not strong enough to deny herself in order to preserve the independence of Sophy and Mrs. Norton. She looked from one to another, and saw the suppressed eagerness in their eyes. “And you would like to go to Florence too--and Lucca--and to go home by Switzerland? Why not? It seems a very reasonable plan.” “But we cannot afford it, Diana.” “Oh, as for that, I can afford it. Don’t say anything,” said Diana. “Don’t you see it would be no pleasure to me to go alone?--and evidently that is the natural thing to do.” “To be sure,” said Mrs. Norton, gravely. “It is not nice to travel alone: but then the expense. How could I put you to so much expense? I don’t think it would be quite--right. I don’t think----” “As for the right and the wrong, I think we may take them in our own hands,” said Diana, with a smile. “You must get the Bradshaw--that is what you must do, and settle the routes. Of course, we must go by Switzerland. And I had never thought of it! It is evident I want you to put things in my head.” “You are very kind, Diana. I am sure if I can be of use in any way to you who are so good to us--and, of course, it would not be nice for you to travel alone, I allow that: even for gentlemen, it cannot be so nice. But for a lady, and so young as you are still----” Diana laughed. She was half ashamed of herself for seeing so clearly through this little air of reluctance and difficulty. “Evidently,” she said, “I am too young to take care of myself. Any one who thinks differently does me an injury. Then that is settled, is it not? It will be a great deal more pleasant having your company. I never like to do anything alone.” “Oh, Diana, what a darling you are! How good you always are!” cried Sophy, throwing her arms round her friend. “And I am such a nasty little thing! I thought you would not care a bit: that you would send us away with the Hunstantons by that horrid long railway, and never think---- Oh, I am so ashamed of myself! and you do love us, you do like to have us with you, Diana, dear?”