I looked at her as she laid her head back against the curtains. My nonchalance was as striking as hers, and--as genuine! We were no children to be awkward in any event. I took her hand; it was a glowing pulse--and mine? She wore one of those curious little cabal rings; there were the Hebrew characters for Faith, traced as with a gold pen dipped in melted pearls on black enamel. My seal was an emerald, Faith also, impaled. I snatched it up and laid it by the ring on her hand. She smiled--such a smile! intensest sympathy, deepest! Could it be? to love the same old symbols, the same weird music? I caught her close, and bent over her lips. The gold hair waved over my shoulder; the great, glittering eyes foamed into mine, then melted and swam into deep, quivering seas of dreams. I whispered, '_Zoe mou!_' Oh, the quick, golden whisper, the flash of genial heartiness, the daring--oh, _how_ tender! '_Sas agapo._' I held her off, radiant, glowing, fragrant, and Bertha's dress rustled up the stairs. Henrietta stooped to pick up the seal, which had fallen; she balanced it on the tip of her finger--the nervy Titan queen! and drew Bertha down by her side on the sofa. It was growing dark. 'I must be off, girls, and get your camelias. What will you have, Bertha? a red or a white, you've a moment to decide?' 'Neither, Len; I do not go.' 'Why, Bertha? Oh! I remember, it is your anniversary,' and I kissed her. 'And you, princess!' I turned to Henrietta. 'Only roses, good my liege.' What was the opera that night? Pshaw! what a rhetorical affectation this question! as if I could ever forget! _Die Zauberfloete_, and it rang pure and clear through my thrilled heart. It followed me around to Van Wyck's, where I found Henrietta and Fanny. A compliment to madame, a German with mademoiselle, and home again. A great light streamed out of the drawing room. I pushed the door open. With a cry of joy, Fan rushed into the arms of the grave, fair man who put Bertha off his knee to welcome her. Nap, who had followed us in, for a moment stood transfixed, and Henrietta, more quiet, stood by their side, saying: 'Here is Harry, Fred, when you choose to see her.' And he did choose, her own brother, whom she had not seen for three years! 'Come in, Nap,' I said. 'Fred Ruyter.' 'Nap and Fanny,' I whispered; Fred smiled invisibly. And Bertha? Oh, you know, of course, that she's Bertha Ruyter, and that Fred is her husband, just home from six months in Rio, and exactly a year from his wedding night! Oh, Lionardo! what mellow, transparent, flowing shades drowned us all that night! 'Harry,' I said, the next morning, before I went down town, as I lounged over her sofa, 'you have my emerald?' 'Yes!' and her bright face turned up to mine. 'You will keep it, and take me also, dear?' '_Ma foi! oui_,' was the sweet, smiling reply. 'I'm not quite ugly enough for a Vulcan, I know; but after a while, if you are patient, who knows? What sayest thou, Venus?'