?" I inquired.

"No. I love music passionately, and I play a little on the organ in our
private chapel; but I follow a different art altogether. I am a mere
imitator of noble form--I am a sculptress."

"You?" I said in some wonder, looking at the very small, beautifully
formed white hand that lay passively on the edge of the couch beside
me. "You make statues in marble like Michael Angelo?"

"Like Angelo?" murmured Zara; and she lowered her brilliant eyes with a
reverential gravity. "No one in these modern days can approach the
immortal splendour of that great master. He must have known heroes and
talked with gods to be able to hew out of the rocks such perfection of
shape and attitude as his 'David.' Alas! my strength of brain and hand
is mere child's play compared to what HAS been done in sculpture, and
what WILL yet be done; still, I love the work for its own sake, and I
am always trying to render a resemblance of--"

Here she broke off abruptly, and a deep blush suffused her cheeks.
Then, looking up suddenly, she took my hand impulsively, and pressed it.

"Be my friend," she said, with a caressing inflection in her rich
voice, "I have no friends of my own sex, and I wish to love you. My
brother has always had so much distrust of the companionship of women
for me. You know his theories; and he has always asserted that the
sphere of thought in which I have lived all my life is so widely apart
from those in which other women exist--that nothing but unhappiness for
me could come out of associating us together. When he told me yesterday
that you were coming to see me to-day, I knew he must have discovered
something in your nature that was not antipathetic to mine; otherwise
he would not have brought you to me. Do you think you can like
me?--perhaps LOVE me after a little while?"

It would have been a cold heart indeed that would not have responded to
such a speech as this, uttered with the pleading prettiness of a loving
child. Besides, I had warmed to her from the first moment I had touched
her hand; and I was overjoyed to think that she was willing to elect me
as a friend. I therefore replied to her words by putting my arm
affectionately round her waist and kissing her. My beautiful, tender
Zara! How innocently happy she seemed to be thus embraced! and how
gently her fragrant lips met mine in that sisterly caress! She leaned
her dark head for a moment on my shoulder, and the mysterious jewel on
her breast flashed