Diane Balfour was the only child of an artist who had begun life with high aspirations and ended it with disappointment. He had married young, while in France. He married a French girl, whose face was her only fortune, the daughter of an officer who died in Algiers--Diane de Lioncourt. He brought her to England, and although happy in his love and in his marriage, evil fortune seemed to pursue him. His health failed. He had genius, and if he had been strong would have left his mark on the age; the merits of Lawrence Balfour's pictures were not appreciated until after his death. He lived in France until after the birth of his daughter Diane, so named after her mother. Then they came to England and for six years remained in London. Then his wife died; and he betook himself to a wandering life. In his travels his daughter was his sole companion. Together they would wander through the cities of Italy and Spain, through Switzerland and the Rhine land, the artist teaching his daughter, imbuing her with his love of beauty and art.

Lawrence Balfour preserved his daughter from all evil, from all knowledge of harm; she had no friends except the artists who visited her father's studio, and who respected the child as they would have done the presence of an angel. She not only grew up retaining all her innocence, but she learned nothing of the world. They had a reverent way of talking, these artists, and next to religion, taught her to love art.

Of the shows, tricks, frauds, treachery, the deceit men and women practice she knew nothing. No one in her presence had ever talked of flirtation, love, or marriage; at sixteen she was ignorant of these things; she had never thought of a lover or of love; her father and the world of beauty filled her heart and soul. Then Lawrence Balfour found his health failing fast. Some one told him to try the warm Devonshire air, and he determined to do so.