"Have you written to your cousin?"
"No I have not written to my cousin. I have not been able to get through it all, Janet, quite so easily as that."
"I suppose you had better go now."
"Yes;—I must go now. I should be a thorn in his side if I were to remain here."
"He will not remain, Mary."
"He shall have the choice as far as I am concerned. You must let him know at once that I am going. I think I will say Saturday,—the day after to-morrow. I could hardly get away to-morrow."
"Certainly not. Why should you?"
"Yet I am bound to hurry myself,—to release him. And, Janet, will you give him these? They are all here,—the rubies and all. Ah, me! he touched me that day."
"How like a gentleman he has behaved always."
"It was not that I cared for the stupid stones. You know that I care nothing for anything of the kind. But there was a sort of trust in it,—a desire to show me that everything should be mine,—which would have made me love him,—if it had been possible."