She smiled.
"They are the first cluster that has come out in our conservatory," she said; "and I could not resist them. As to the pearls, they belonged to my mother, and are my favourite ornaments; and white satin is now no longer exclusively for brides. How soft and pretty that Indian crepe is! Your toilette is charming, and suits you to perfection. Are you quite ready?"
"Quite," I answered.
She hesitated and sighed. Then she raised her lovely eyes with a sort of wistful tenderness.
"Before we go down I should like you to kiss me once," she said.
I embraced her fondly, and our lips met with a lingering sisterly caress.
"You will never forget me, will you?" she asked almost anxiously; "never cease to think of me kindly?"
"How fanciful you are to-night, Zara dear!" I said. "As if I COULD forget you! I shall always think of you as the loveliest and sweetest woman in the world."
"And when I am out of the world--what then?" she pursued.
Remembering her spiritual sympathies, I answered at once: "Even then I shall know you to be one of the fairest of the angels. So you see, Zara darling, I shall always love you."
"I think you will," she said meditatively; "you are one of us. But come! I hear voices downstairs. I think our expected guests have arrived, and we must be in the drawing-room to receive them. Good- bye, little friend!" And she again kissed me.
"Good-bye!" I repeated in astonishment; "why 'good-bye'?"
"Because it is my fancy to say the word," she replied with quiet firmness. "Again, dear little friend, good-bye!"
I felt bewildered, but she would not give me time to utter another syllable. She took my hand and hurried me with her downstairs, and in another moment we were both in the drawing-room, receiving and saying polite nothings to the Everards and Challoners, who had all arrived together, resplendent in evening costume. Amy Everard, I thought, looked a little tired and fagged, though she rejoiced in a superb "arrangement" by Worth of ruby velvet and salmon-pink. But, though a perfect dress is consoling to most women, there are times when even that fails of its effect; and then Worth ceases to loom before the feminine eye as a sort of demi-god, but dwindles insignificantly to the level of a mere tailor, whose prices are ruinous. And this, I think, was the state of mind in which Mrs. Everard found herself that evening; or else she was a trifle jealous of Zara's harmonious grace and loveliness. Be this as it may, she was irritable, and whisperingly found fault with, me for being in such good health.