“I did not know; but I think she must have been,” I answered.

“She was.  We both were.  We remained together in the chapel all day, saying what parting words we had to say to one another.  We knew her death, or rather her release, was to occur at some hour that night; but in what way the end was destined to come, we knew not.  Till I heard the first peals of thunder, I was in suspense; but after that I was no longer uncertain.  You were a witness of the whole ensuing scene.  No death could have been more painless than hers.  But let me not forget the message she gave me for you.”  Here he took from a secret drawer the electric stone Zara had always worn.  “This jewel is yours,” he said.  “You need not fear to accept it—­it contains no harm! it will bring you no ill-fortune.  You see how all the sparkling brilliancy has gone out of it?  Wear it, and within a few minutes it will be as lustrous as ever.  The life throbbing in your veins warms the electricity contained in it; and with the flowing of your blood, its hues change and glow.  It has no power to attract; it can simply absorb and shine.  Take it as a remembrance of her who loved you and who loves you still.”

I was still in my evening dress, and my neck was bare.  I slipped the chain, on which hung the stone, round my throat, and watched the strange gem with some curiosity.  In a few seconds a pale streak of fiery topaz flashed through it, which deepened and glowed into a warm crimson, like the heart of a red rose; and by the time it had become thoroughly warmed against my flesh, it glittered as brilliantly as ever.

“I will always wear it,” I said earnestly.  “I believe it will bring me good fortune.”

“I believe it will,” returned Heliobas simply.  “And now let us fulfil Zara’s other commands.”

On our way across the hall we were stopped by the page, who brought us a message of inquiry after Zara’s health from Colonel Everard and his wife, and also from the Challoners.  Heliobas hastily wrote a few brief words in pencil, explaining the fatal result of the accident, and returned it to the messenger, giving orders at the same time that all the blinds should be pulled down at the windows of the house, that visitors might understand there was no admittance.  We then proceeded to the studio, accompanied by the Armenians carrying heavy hammers.  Reverently, and with my mind full of recollections of Zara’s living presence, I opened the familiar door.  The first thing that greeted us was a most exquisitely wrought statue in white marble of Zara herself, full length, and arrayed in her customary graceful Eastern costume.  The head was slightly raised:  a look of gladness lighted up the beautiful features; and within the loosely clasped hands was a cluster of roses.  Bound the pedestal were carved the words, “Omnia vincit Amor,” with Zara’s name and the dates of her birth and death.  A little slip of paper lay at the foot of the statue, which Heliobas perceived, and taking it he read and passed it to me.  The lines were in Zara’s handwriting, and ran as follows: