t that! Don't let it be that!" she whispered piteously.

She looked round the room with scared eyes. Who could help her--tell her
the truth--set at rest this new fear which had assailed 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 rehearsed, 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 rehearse for to-night."

"To rehearse? Rehearse?" 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--_rehearse_?"

"It's impossible for us to meet to-day," replied Diana steadily. "I
had--forgotten--the Duchess's reception."

Olga made a