“He will love you. He will find you out,” said Zuleime. And her words, and tone, and look thrilled like a prophecy to the heart of Catherine, but she shook her head gravely, and answered— “Never, Zuleime! It would be a sin even to hope it!——But, Zuleime, I have laid my secret on your heart—_now_ will you confide in me?” “Oh, Kate! I would do it. I _wish_ to do it! But I promised him!” “Dear Zuleime, when he required that of you, he did not think what might, what has happened. You must tell me, Zuleime. For if you have not some one with whom you can talk freely, you—_I fear for you_. You cannot bear your burden alone! Few human beings can! Tell me, darling?” “Oh, Kate! It was the last thing he asked me! I must comply with his wish!” “Zuleime! I am about to cast away all reserve! I am about to tell you the name of him I love so madly. It is Archer Clifton, your cousin—your sister’s betrothed! There! I have thrown open the very sanctuary of my heart to you. I have shown its secret sin and shame! Now, will you confide in me!” “Dear Kate! Dearest Kate! My own secret’s without reserve, but not another’s.” 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.