“One moment, and I’ll explain everything,” she said. “But, first of all, let me tell you why I sent you a message in advance, instead of coming to you direct. It’s because I’m obliged for the present to be like a travelling royalty, _incog._ Your servants must not know my real name,--to them and to everybody else who sees me here, I’m Miss Graham,--not Miss May. Miss May is dead! As Peggotty says in ‘David Copperfield,’ she’s ‘drowndead.’ ‘Drowndead’ this very morning!” She laughed; Sophy Lansing looked as she felt, utterly bewildered. “You are a positive enigma, Diana!” she said. “Of course when I got your note I understood you had some reason or other for wishing to be _incog._, and I told my maids that I expected a friend to stay with me, a Miss Graham, and that she would come this afternoon,--so _that’s_ all right! But about the drowning business----” “You’ll see it mentioned, no doubt, in the papers to-morrow,” said Diana. “Under various headings: ‘Bathing Fatality’ or ‘Sad End of a Lady.’ And you’ll probably get a black-bordered letter from Ma, or Pa, or both!” “Diana!” exclaimed Sophy, vehemently. “You are too provoking! Tell me all about it!--straight!” “There’s not so very much to tell,” answered Diana, in her sweet, mellow accents, thrilled at the moment by a note of sadness. “Only that last night I had the final disillusion of my life--I found that my father and mother did not really love me----” “Love you!” interrupted Sophy, heatedly. “You dear goose! There’s no such thing as love in their composition!” “Maybe not,” said Diana. “But if there is, they’ve none to spare for _me_. You see, dear Sophy, it’s all the fault of my silly conceit,--I really thought I was useful, even necessary to the old people, and that they cared for me, but when I heard my father say most emphatically that I was ‘in the way,’ and my mother rather agreed to that, I made up my mind to relieve them of my presence. Which I have done. For ever!” “For ever!” echoed Sophy. “My poor dear Diana----” “No, I’m not a poor dear Diana,” she answered, smiling,--“I’m a dead and gone Diana! You will see me in the leading obituary columns of the newspapers to-morrow!” “But how----” “The how and the when and the why are thus!” and Diana played with the silken tassels of the girdle which belted in the dainty chiffon and lace of her friend’s tea-gown. “This very morning, as ever was, I went for my usual morning dip in the sea at a cove not a quarter of a mile away from the house. I knew that at a certain hour there would be a high tide, which, of course, on any other day I would have avoided. I went to the spot, dressed in two of everything----” “Two of everything?” Sophy murmured bewilderedly.