I think it a grave question whether the artistic temperament does not furnish more sorrow than joy to the world. I am proud and thankful that I have a daughter to whom an infatuation would be an impossibility. Come back, Diana, if you feel strong enough. I promise to preserve you from gayety if you wish me to do so. I do not feel at all easy about you. Please write and set a date for coming, explaining also all that lay behind your wire. Your affectionate MOTHER By the time Diana finished reading this letter, her hands were trembling. She hurried to Mrs. Lowell's room. A rather stifled voice bade her enter. Her friend was stooping over the washstand bathing her eyes. Her face, as she looked up through the splashing, showed an April smile. "I knew it was you," she said. "I recognized the step, and I knew you wouldn't mind discovering that I cry once in a while." "My dear Mrs. Lowell, I'm sorry for whatever distresses you." "Oh, it is just that dear talented, wretched boy. I couldn't help weeping a few little weeps; but what happy thing has happened to you, my dear?" she added, catching the excitement in the girl's face. She dried her own finally, and came forward and Diana put the letter into her hands. They both stood in silence until Mrs. Lowell had finished reading and looked up. Her cheeks were as flushed as Diana's, and they exchanged a radiant gaze and then sat down. "One always weeps too soon," said Mrs. Lowell at last. "I was thinking," said Diana, looking off, "that it might be a good plan for me to go to Mr. Loring myself." "You good girl! Do you know him?" "Not at all, but any one can go to the Copley-Plaza, and I can tell him I am his cousin." "You're a precious child. When had you thought of going?" "Immediately," said Diana, with recovered serenity. "Shall I go to Boston with you?" "It will not be necessary, I think." "But your mother would prefer it, I am sure. Yes, I see that I should go," added Mrs. Lowell, casting a glance at the rich stationery in her hand with its heading "Idlewild, Newport, R. I." She could feel the probable disapproval of this move which Mrs. Wilbur would feel. Nicholas Gayne did not come back to the Inn to supper that afternoon. Bertie came to the table expecting his uncle would be there and not daring to absent himself, but he showed the effect of his unwonted outburst in such extra pallor and lassitude that Veronica was moved to give him her choicest offerings. Mrs. Lowell thought it best for his calm not to take any notice of him, but she and Diana found it difficult to control the excitement that beset their hearts as they looked at him: the drooping bird in the cage of a cruel and neglectful master, the key that would unlock its door almost in their hands.