She glanced at her watch,--one of Sophy Lansing’s numerous dainty trifles--“Keep it in exchange,” Sophy had said, “for yours which your bereaved parents are going to send me as an ‘In Memoriam’!” It was ten minutes to seven. Looking about her to take note of her bearings, she saw on the left-hand side a deep bend in the road, which curved towards a fine gateway of wrought iron, surmounted by a curious device representing two crossed spears springing from the centre of a star,--and she knew she had arrived at her destination. Her heart beat a little more quickly as she approached the gateway--there was no keeper’s lodge, so she pulled at a handle which dimly suggested the possibility of a bell. There was no audible response,--but to all appearance the gates noiselessly unbarred themselves, and slowly opened. She entered at once without hesitation, and they as slowly closed behind her. She was in the grounds of the Château Fragonard. Immense borders of heliotrope in full bloom fringed either side of the carriage drive where she stood, and the mere lifting of her eyes showed masses of flowering shrubs and finely-grown trees bending their shadowy branches over velvety stretches of rich green grass, or opening in leafy archways here and there to disclose enchanting glimpses of blue water or dazzling peaks of far-off snow. She would have been glad to linger among such lovely surroundings, for she had a keen comprehension of and insight into the beauty of Nature and all the joys it offers to a devout and discerning spirit, but she bethought herself that if Dr. Dimitrius was anything of an exact or punctilious person, he would expect an applicant to be rather before than after time. A silver-toned chime, striking slowly and musically on the sunlit silence, rang seven o’clock as she reached the Château, which looked like a miniature palace of Greek design, and was surrounded with a broad white marble loggia, supported by finely fluted Ionic columns, between two of which on each side a fountain played. But Diana had scarcely time to look at anything while quickly ascending the short flight of steps leading to the door of entrance; she saw a bell and was in haste to ring it. Her summons was answered at once by a negro servant dressed in unassuming dark livery. “Dr. Dimitrius?” she queried. The negro touched his lips with an expressive movement signifying that he was dumb,--but he was not deaf, for he nodded an affirmative to her inquiry, and by a civil gesture invited her to enter. In another few seconds she found herself in a spacious library--a finely proportioned room, apparently running the full length of the house, with large French windows at both ends, commanding magnificent views.