There were, I
noticed, several beautiful rings on her fingers, and the handkerchief
she held to her eyes was a dainty little embroidered thing with a lace
border; for everything in her make-up was complete and in keeping that
evening. Even the quaint little shoes she wore were embroidered with
silver thread and had large rosettes on them. After removing the
handkerchief from her face, she continued silent and with eyes cast
down, looking very pale and troubled.
"Demetria," I said, "tell me how I can serve you? I cannot guess the
nature of the trouble you speak of, but if it is one I can help you
out of, speak to me without reserve."
"Perhaps you can help me, Richard. It was of this matter I wished to
speak this evening. But now--how can I speak of it?"
"Not to one who is your friend, Demetria? I wish you could think that
the spirit of your lost brother Calixto was here in me, for I am as
ready to help you as he would have been; and I know, Demetria, that
you were very dear to him."
Her face flushed, and for a moment her eyes met mine; then, casting
them down again, she replied sadly, "It is impossible! I can say no
more to you now. My heart oppresses me so that my lips refuse to speak.
To-morrow, perhaps."
"To-morrow morning I leave you, and there will be no opportunity of
speaking," I said. "Don Hilario will be here watching you, and, though
he is so much in the house, I cannot believe that you trust him.
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