“Mother is going to wear this dress this evening—isn’t it pretty?” said Ida, climbing upon the foot of the bed.
Zuleime turned her eyes with childish interest towards the robes; and Mrs. Knight, observing her look of curiosity, said—
“They form a portion of the Queen Katherine costume. They are going to bring out Henry VIII., this evening.”
Zuleime glanced from the costume to the haggard, but noble looking woman, and thought that she might represent the unhappy Queen very well, as far as personal appearance would go, but instead of expressing this opinion, she said—
“The young German girl told me that you wanted some assistance in needle-work. I shall be glad to help you.”
The dark, mournful eyes rose slowly, and grew still, looking at the young widow, in whom they now began to recognize that most piteous of all beings—a reduced lady.
“Sit down—pray sit down,” she said, to Zuleime, who still remained standing.
Zuleime took the vacant chair.
“Would you object, Mrs. Fairfax, to sitting with me while you sew? There are alterations to be made in these four Queen Katherine dresses, in which you would require my advice.”
Zuleime hesitated, and then answered—