Catherine arose and took the seat by the mourner’s side. Well would it have been for Zuleime in after life, if she could now have made a confidant as well as friend of the excellent girl. But at least Catherine’s efforts had not been all in vain. The mind of the mourner was a little more rational—her part in conversation not quite so distrait. Presently Zuleime said—
“It is getting towards evening. Cousin Charles will be back to supper. Curl my hair, Kate! and put on my crimson dress, I must go down and spend the evening with them in the parlor! I must, Kate. It is for my dear father’s sake! You do not know, Kate, else you would also advise it.”
Catherine essayed to prevent her, but finding her quite determined, yielded the point, and assisted her to dress. When her toilet was complete, she sat down again upon the sofa, and put her hand to her head in troubled thought. Then at last she spoke, saying—
“Kate! I am afraid. It seems to me that—that my head has not been quite right. And—and my speech has not been quite to the point. Kate, I want you to tell me—can I trust myself to talk, do you think? or had I better not try this evening? They might think me crazy if I should not talk straight! But I am not! I am not crazy—only—Tell me how I am, and what I had better do, dear Kate?”
“Try to attend and be interested in what is going on, dearest, and talk when occasion presents itself. And do not be afraid. Every one will understand it is only nervousness, darling.”
“You encourage me, Catherine,” said the poor girl, “and now just give me your arm down stairs.”
Kate complied with her request.
The parlor was empty when they entered, and Zuleime had an opportunity of settling herself in a large arm-chair, and composing herself, before any one came in. Mr. Clifton, Major Cabell, and several other gentlemen returned from the shooting excursion and entered the parlor together. Mr. Clifton looked surprised and pleased to see Zuleime, “clothed and in her right mind;” and Major Cabell seemed interested and curious. Zuleime arose, and supported herself by resting one hand upon the arm of the chair, while she received the greetings of her father’s guests. And thanks to the shadowing of the black lustrous curls, and the reflection of the crimson dress, none could see the wanness of her face. Mrs. Clifton and Miss Clifton entered soon after, and in the general conversation that ensued, poor Zuleime escaped particular notice. Once Major Cabell contrived, without drawing attention upon himself, to find his way to her side, and enter into conversation with her. And he was surprised, perplexed, nonplussed at the gentleness and almost tenderness of her manner. Before leaving her he asked—
“When can I have an interview with you, Zuleime?”
“Whenever you please, Cousin Charles,” she answered, gently.