In the Doctor's wondering gaze at me over the body of my beauty's creator I felt anew the sense of power that has inspired me by night and day since my great awakening. I have had bitter experiences of late; this has been the worst, yet in a way the most fortunate. By no fault of mine I am relieved of the danger of seeing beauty like--like this too common. And I will be fair to the dead man, though he was not fair to me: if there is a God above, by Him I swear that I will write out the secret of the Bacillus this day, so that it shall not be lost if I too die suddenly, as he-- I will devise it to humanity, and John Burke shall execute the will. Poor fellow! Poor John! I can't see that I was wrong. I did not know, Prof. Darmstetter himself probably did not know, that he was liable to such an attack. Even if I had known--I had the right to defend myself, hadn't I? It was not like the Nelly Winship I once knew to use such weapons against him; but that Nelly is as dead as he, and this glorious vision of white and rosy tint and undulant form shall be rival-less for years; marvel of every land, the theme of every tongue. I sit alone in this huge palace in which I have come to live--feeling that at last I have a home of my own, where no one can overlook my thoughts--I sit alone and think of the future; and it is rosy bright, if only I could forget--if only I could forget! In all the world I am the sole guardian of the Secret. I shall be the most beautiful woman for years and years and years; blessed with such beauty that men shall know the tale of it is a lie, until they, too, come from far countries to look upon it; and they shall go home and be known as liars in their turn, and always dream of me. When I am old and gray, I will tell the world how Darmstetter died, on the eve of publishing his discovery. Perhaps I shall cling to it until I, too-- Ah, I can see that ghastly Thing, the dead, hideous eyes staring up at me! Shall I be like that some day? As ugly as that! It was not my fault, dead, staring eyes; not my fault! CHAPTER IV. SOME REMARKS ABOUT CATS. The Nicaragua, April 27. I've been sitting for my portrait to Van Nostrand. It is an offering to the shades of Prof. Darmstetter. I must preserve some attempted record of my beauty for his sake; though the Bacillus couldn't have made, if he had lived, another woman as beautiful as I. It isn't conceivable. I believe I'm a little tired with that, and with rearranging Mrs. Whitney's flat, and a little worried, too, about bills, the money from Father comes so slowly. Not that I need mind owing a trifle at the shops; half the women run accounts; but it's embarrassing not to have ready money. Why, I have to buy things to ward off gifts; Meg simply won't see me go without. Perhaps I'm depressed too, because to-day has been a succession of petty squabbles, and I hate squabbling.