A low, organ-like sound as of persistent thudding and humming echoed around her,--it suggested suppressed thunder. The girl Rose looked quite unconcerned. “Oh, that is the machine in the Doctor’s laboratory,” she said. “But it does not often make any noise. We do not know quite what it is,--we are not permitted to see!” She smiled, and added: “But Madame will not long be disturbed--it will soon cease.” And indeed the thunderous hum died slowly away as she spoke, leaving a curious sense of emptiness on the air. Diana still listened, vaguely fascinated,--but the silence remained unbroken. Rose nodded brightly, in pleased affirmation of her own words, and left the room, closing the door behind her. Alone, Diana went to the window and looked out. What a glorious landscape was spread before her!--what a panorama of the Divine handiwork in Nature! Tears sprang to her eyes--tears, not of sorrow, but of joy. “I hope I am grateful enough!” she thought. “For now I have every reason to be grateful. I tried hard to feel grateful for all my blessings at home,--yet somehow I couldn’t be!--there seemed no way out of the daily monotony--no hope anywhere!--but now--now, with all this unexpected good luck I could sing ‘Praise God from whom all blessings flow!’ with more fervour than any Salvationist!” She went into the cosy bedroom which adjoined her _salon_ to see if she looked neat and well-arranged enough in her dress to go down to tea,--there was a long mirror there, and in it she surveyed herself critically. Certainly that navy “model” gown suited her slim figure to perfection--“And,” she said to herself, “if people only looked at my hair and my too, too scraggy shape, they might almost take me for ‘young!’ But woe’s me!”--and she touched the corners of her eyes with the tips of her fingers--“here are the wicked crow’s-feet!--_they_ won’t go!--and the ‘lines from nose to chin’ which the beauty specialists offer to eradicate and can’t,--the ugly ruts made by Time’s unkind plough and my own too sorrowful habit of thought,--_they_ won’t go, either! However, here it doesn’t matter,--the Doctor wanted ‘a woman of mature years’--and he’s got her!” She smiled cheerfully at herself in the mirror which reflected a shape that was graceful in its outline if somewhat too thin--“distinctly willowy” as she said--and then she began thinking about clothes, like any other feminine creature. She was glad Sophy had made her buy two charming tea-gowns, and one very dainty evening party frock; and she was now anxious to give the “number” of the luggage she had left at the Salle des Bagages to Dr. Dimitrius, so that it might be sent for without delay. Meanwhile she looked at all the elegancies of her rooms, and noted the comfort and convenience with which everything was arranged. One novelty attracted and pleased her,--this was a small round dial, put up against the wall, and marked with the hours at which meals were served. A