Perhaps no one--not even Mrs. Merrick--was so unhappy in consequence ofthe lamentable crime that had been committed as Diana Von Taer.Immediately after her interview with Beth her mood changed, and shewould have given worlds to be free from complicity in the abduction.Bitterly, indeed, she reproached herself for her enmity toward theunsuspecting girl, an innocent victim of Diana's own vain desires andCharles Mershone's heartless wiles. Repenting her folly and reasoningout the thing when it was too late, Diana saw clearly that she hadgained no possible advantage, but had thoughtlessly conspired to ruinthe reputation of an honest, ingenuous girl.
Not long ago she had said that her life was dull, a stupid round ofsocial functions that bored her dreadfully. She had hoped by adoptingJohn Merrick's nieces as her _protegees_ and introducing them to societyto find a novel and pleasurable excitement that would serve to take herout of her unfortunate _ennui_--a condition to which she had practicallybeen born.
But Diana had never bargained for such excitement as this; she had neverthought to win self abhorrence by acts of petty malice and callouscruelties. Yet so intrenched was she in the conservatism of her classthat she could not at once bring herself to the point of exposing herown guilt that she might make amends for what had been done. She toldherself she would rather die than permit Louise to suffer through herconnivance with her reckless, unprincipled cousin. She realizedperfectly that she ought to fly, without a moment's delay, to the poorgirl's assistance. Yet fear of exposure, of ridicule, of loss of caste,held her a helpless prisoner in her own home, where she paced the floorand moaned and wrung her hands until she was on the verge of nervousprostration. If at any time she seemed to acquire sufficient courage togo to Louise, a glance at the detective watching the house unnerved herand prevented her from carrying out her good intentions.
You must not believe that Diana was really bad; her lifelong trainingalong set lines and practical seclusion from the everyday world werelargely responsible for her evil impulses. Mischief is sure to crop up,in one form or another, among the idle and ambitionless. More daringwickedness is said to be accomplished by the wealthy and aimlesscreatures of our false society than by the poorer and uneducatedclasses, wherein criminals are supposed to thrive. These sins are oftenunpublished, although not always undiscovered, but they are no morevenial because they are suppressed by wealth and power.
Diana Von Taer was a girl who, rightly led, might have been capable ofdeveloping a noble womanhood; yet the conditions of her limitedenvironment had induced her to countenance a most dastardly anddespicable act. It speaks well for the innate goodness of this girl thatshe at last actually rebelled and resolved to undo, insofar as she wasable, the wrong that had been accomplished.
For four days she suffered tortures of remorse. On the morning of thefifth day she firmly decided to act. Regardless of who might bewatching, or of any unpleasant consequences to herself, she quietly leftthe house, unattended, and started directly for the East Orange mansion.