now felt that he had confided
himself to the mercy of this callous aristocrat and met with a distinct
rebuff.

But he had done it for the sake of his beloved nieces--and they would
never know what humiliation this unsatisfactory interview had cost him.

CHAPTER III

DIANA

Diana Von Taer can not be called a type. She was individual.
Aristocratic to her finger tips, she was unlike all other aristocrats.
An admitted queen of society, her subjects were few and indifferent. She
possessed ancient lineage, was highly accomplished, had been born to the
purple, as the saying is; but none of these things conspired to make her
the curious creature she was.

As we make her acquaintance she is twenty-three years of age--and looks
eighteen. She is tall and slender and carries her handsome form with
exquisite grace. Diana is never abrupt; her voice is ever modulated to
soft, even tones; she rises from a chair or couch with the lithe,
sinuous motion of a serpent uncoiling.

Her face, critically regarded, is not so admirable as her form. The
features are a trifle too elongated, and their delicacy is marred by a
nose a bit broad and unshapely and a mouth with thin lips primly set.
Her dark eyes might be magnificent if wide open: but through the narrow
slits of their lids, half hidden by long curling lashes, the eyes peer
at you with a cold, watchful, intent gaze that carries a certain uncanny
and disconcerting fascination.

Yet the girl is essentially feminine. If you refrain from meeting that
discomfiting gaze--and her familiars have learned to avoid it--Diana
impresses you as being graceful, dainty and possessed of charming
manners. Her taste in dress is perfect. She converses fluently on many
topics. It is her custom to rise at ten o'clock, whatever time she may
have retired the night before; to read until luncheon; to devote the
remainder of her day to the requirements of society.

Eligible young men of admitted social standing call upon Diana at such
intervals as the proprieties require. They chatter "small talk" and are
careful to address her with deference. With an exception to be referred
to later these young men have no more thought of "flirting" with Miss
Von Taer than they would with the statue of the goddess, her namesake.
Her dinner parties and entertainments are very successful. She is
greatly admired, _per se_, but has no intimate friends.

When her mother died, some years before, an aunt had come to li