to the preceding one, it yet so assimilated
its richness to the rich beauty of the woman, that I thought it the only flower
fit to be worn; so fit, indeed, that Nature had evidently created this floral
gem, in a happy exuberance, for the one purpose of worthily adorning Zenobia's
head. It might be, that my feverish fantasies clustered themselves about this
peculiarity, and caused it to look more gorgeous and wonderful than if beheld
with temperate eyes. In the height of my illness, as I well recollect, I went so
far as to pronounce it preternatural.
    »Zenobia is an enchantress!« whispered I once to Hollingsworth. »She is a
sister of the Veiled Lady! That flower in her hair is a talisman. If you were to
snatch it away, she would vanish, or be transformed into something else!«
    »What does he say?« asked Zenobia.
    »Nothing that has an atom of sense in it,« answered Hollingsworth. »He is a
little beside himself, I believe, and talks about your being a witch, and of
some magical property in the flower that you wear in your hair.«
    »It is an idea worthy of a feverish poet,« said she, laughing, rather
compassionately, and taking out the flower. »I scorn to owe anything to magic.
Here, Mr. Hollingsworth: - you may keep the spell, while it has any virtue in
it; but I cannot promise you not to appear with a new one, tomorrow. It is the
one relic of my more brilliant, my happier days!«
    The most curious part of the matter was, that, long after my slight delirium
had passed away - as long, indeed, as I continued to know this remarkable woman
- her daily flower affected my imagination, though more slightly, yet in very
much the same way. The reason must have been, that, whether intentionally on her
part, or not, this favorite ornament was actually a subtile expression of
Zenobia's character.
    One subject, about which - very impertinently, moreover - I perplexed myself
with a great many conjectures, was, whether Zenobia had ever been married. The
idea, it must be understood, was unauthorized by any circumstance or suggestion
that had made its way to my ears. So young as I beheld her, and the freshest and
rosiest woman of a thousand, there was certainly no need of imputing to her a
destiny already accomplished; the probability was far greater, that her coming
years had all life's richest gifts to bring.