ack, and the story which explained it. Diana had heard of her from a
friend in Rome, where Mrs. Colwood's husband, a young Indian Civil
servant, had died of fever and lung mischief, on his way to England for
a long sick leave and where the little widow had touched the hearts of
all who came in contact with her.

Diana thought, with one of her ready compunctions, that she had not been
expansive enough the night before. She ran down-stairs, determined to
make Mrs. Colwood feel at home at once.

When she entered the dining-room the new companion was standing beside
the window looking out upon the formal garden and the lawn beyond it.
Her attitude was a little drooping, and as she turned to greet her
hostess and employer, Diana's quick eyes seemed to perceive a trace of
recent tears on the small face. The girl was deeply touched, though she
made no sign. Poor little thing! A widow, and childless, in a
strange place.

Mrs. Colwood, however, showed no further melancholy. She was full of
admiration for the beauty of the frosty morning, the trees touched with
rime, the browns and purples of the distant woods. She spoke shyly, but
winningly, of the comfort of her room, and the thoughtfulness with which
Miss Mallory had arranged it; she could not say enough of the
picturesqueness of the house. Yet there was nothing fulsome in her
praise. She had the gift which makes the saying of sweet and flattering
things appear the merest simplicity. They escaped her whether she would
or no--that at least was the impression; and Diana found it agreeable.
So agreeable that before they had been ten minutes at table Miss
Mallory, in response, was conscious on her own part of an unusually
strong wish to please her new companion--to make a good effect. Diana,
indeed, was naturally governed by the wish to please. She desired above
all things to be liked--that is, if she could not be loved. Mrs.
Colwood brought with her a warm and favoring atmosphere. Diana unfolded.

* * * * *

In the course of this first exploratory conversation, it appeared that
the two ladies had many experiences in common. Mrs. Colwood had been two
years, her two short years of married life, in India; Diana had
travelled there with her father. Also, as a girl, Mrs. Colwood had spent
a winter at Cannes, and another at Santa Margherita. Diana expressed
with vehemence her weariness of the Riviera; but the fact that Mrs.
Colwood differed from her