Part 50 (1/2)

She looked round the room with scared eyes. Who could help her--tell her the truth--set at rest this new fear which had a.s.sailed her? There must be some one . . . some one. . . . Yes, there was Olga! _She_ knew--had known Max's secret all along. But would she speak? Would she reveal the truth? Something--heaven knew what!--had kept her silent hitherto, save for the utterance of those maddening taunts and innuendoes which had so often lodged in Diana's heart and festered there.

Feverishly Diana sprang out of bed and began to dress, flinging on her clothes in a very frenzy of haste. She would see Olga, and beg, pray, beseech her, if necessary, to tell her all she knew.

If she failed, if the Russian woman obstinately denied her, she would know no peace of mind--no rest. She felt she had reached breaking-point--she could endure no more.

But she would not fail. When Olga came--and she would be here soon, very soon now--she would play up the knowledge she had gleaned from the newspaper for all it was worth, and she would force the truth from her, willing or unwilling.

Whether that truth spelt heaven, or the utter, final wrecking of all her life, she must know it.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE REAPING

Half an hour later Diana descended to the big music-room, where she usually rehea.r.s.ed, to find Olga Lermontof already awaiting her there.

By a sheer effort of will she had fought down the storm of emotion which had threatened to overwhelm her, and now, as she greeted her accompanist, she was quite cool and composed, though rather pale and with tired shadows beneath her eyes.

There was something almost unnatural in her calm, and the shrewd Russian eyed her with a sudden apprehension. This was not the same woman whom she had left last night, thrilling and softly tremulous with love.

She began speaking quickly, an undercurrent of suppressed excitement in her tones.

”There's some mistake, isn't there? You don't want me--this morning?”

Diana regarded her composedly.

”Certainly I want you--to rehea.r.s.e for to-night.”

”To rehea.r.s.e? Rehea.r.s.e?” Olga's voice rose in a sharp crescendo of amazement. ”Surely”--bending forward to peer into Diana's face--”surely you are not going to keep Max waiting while you--_rehea.r.s.e_?”

”It's impossible for us to meet to-day,” replied Diana steadily. ”I had--forgotten--the d.u.c.h.ess's reception.”

Olga made a gesture of impatience.

”But you must meet to-day,” she said imperiously. ”You _must_!

To-morrow it will be too late.”

”Too late? How too late?”

Miss Lermontof hesitated a moment. Then she said quietly:--

”I happen to know that Max is leaving England to-night.”

Diana shrugged her shoulders.

”Well, he will come back, I suppose.”

The other looked at her curiously.

”Diana, what has come to you? You are so--changed--since last night.”