"Yes, of course, the bride will be the most conspicuous figure—the cynosure of all eyes, in fact—so she would need to be as complete and perfect as possible," Mrs. Goddard explained, but watching the girl, warily, out of the corners of her eyes.
"Who is going to wear it?" Edith inquired, as she caressingly straightened out a spray of orange blossoms that had caught in a mesh of the lace.
Madam's eyes gleamed strangely at the question.
"Miss Kerby takes the part of the heroine of the play," she answered, "whom, by the way, I called Edith, because I like the name so much. I did not think you would mind."
"Oh, no," said the girl, absently. Then, with a little start, she exclaimed, as she lifted something from the box from which the gloves had been taken: "But what is this?"
It was a small half-circle of fine white gauze, edged with a fringe of frosted silver, while a tiny chain of the same material was attached to each end.
"Oh! that is the mask," said Mrs. Goddard.
"The mask?" repeated Edith, surprised.
"Yes; I don't wonder you look astonished, to find such a thing among the outfit of a bride," said madam, with a peculiar little laugh; "but although it is a profound secret to everybody outside the actors, I will explain it to you, as the time is so near. You understand this is a play that I have myself written."
"Yes."