and lulled it
asleep once more. In swift succession there had followed the vivid
interest of increasing musical study, the stirrings of ambition, and a
whole world of new people to meet and rub shoulders with.

So that the end of her second year in London found Diana still little
more than an impetuous, impulsive girl, possessed of a warm,
undisciplined nature, and of an unconscious desire to fulfil her being
along the most natural and easy lines, while in spirit she leaped
forward to the time when she should be plunged into professional life.

The whole of her training under Baroni, with the big future that it
held, tended to give her a somewhat egotistical outlook, an instinctive
feeling that everything must of necessity subordinate itself to her
demands--an excellent foundation, no doubt, on which to build up a
reputation as a famous singer in a world where people are apt to take
you very much at your own valuation, but a poor preparation for the
sacrifices and self-immolation that love not infrequently demands.

Above all else, this second year of study had brought in fullest
measure the development and enriching of her voice. Baroni had
schooled it with the utmost care, keeping always in view his purpose
that the coming June should witness her debut, and Diana, catching fire
from his enthusiasm, had answered to every demand he had made upon her.

Her voice was now something to marvel at. It had matured into a rich
contralto of amazing compass, and with a peculiar thrilling quality
about it which gripped and held you almost as though some one had laid
a hand upon your heart. Baroni hugged himself as he realised what a
_furore_ in the musical world this voice would create when at last he
allowed the silence to be broken. Already there were whispers flying
about of the wonderful contralto he was training, of whom it was
rumoured that she would have the whole world at her feet from the
moment that Baroni produced her.

The old _maestro_ had his plans all cut and dried. Early in June, just
when the season should be in full swing, there was to be a concert--a
recital with only Kirolski, the Polish violinist, and Madame Berthe
Louvigny, the famous French pianist, to assist. Those two names alone
would inevitably draw a big crowd of all the musical people who
mattered, and Diana's golden voice would do the rest.

This was to be the solitary concert for the season, but, to whet the
appetite of society, Diana w