"But the old lady interrupted her and went on, as if she had been checked in a recital which she must finish without a break. 'Wait,' she said. 'To-day, this afternoon, I remembered it! The memory came to me with a kind of shock. I thought, "I have never given her the ring." It brought me out of my chair. I started to get the ring at once, but I could not remember where it was. I stood still, trying to think. Then suddenly that came to me, too. It was down in the corner of my biggest trunk, the one I had not unpacked, the one that holds all my winter things. So I unpacked it—and here is the ring.'
"She held it out. It was a heavy gold band with a raised Latin inscription on its outer surface. The editor took it in her hand, but her mind held only one idea.
"'You unpacked that great trunk,' she gasped, 'this frightfully hot day? With all those furs and flannels? Why, Mrs. Driscoll, how could you do such a thing?'
"The old woman drew a deep breath. 'I had to,' she muttered. Her eyebrows puckered. Plainly, she was puzzled and a little afraid. 'I felt I had to,' she repeated. 'It seemed,' she added, slowly, 'almost like a message from my daughter!'
"The editor turned the ring in her hand and looked at the Latin inscription, and as she did so she saw again, not the face of the beautiful woman who had come to her after her downfall, but the quiet convent chapel in which she herself had knelt that afternoon. A little chill ran the length of her spine. For there were three words on the ring."
The Diplomat leaned forward. "That's interesting," he said. "I didn't know about the inscription. The three words were—"
"'Adveniat Regnum Tuum,'" said the editor.
"'Thy Kingdom Come,'" translated the Best Seller, swiftly, proud of his Latin. "By Jove, the editor got her message, didn't she? I like your ending, Miss Iverson. But it doesn't prove the original point."
The Playwright leaned across the table. "Doesn't it?" she asked, gently. "Then show them the ring, May."
I drew the heavy circle from my finger. In silence it was passed from palm to palm. The glance of the blue-eyed woman touched the face of the Playwright, the Diplomat, and the Author and rested on me. Then she drew a deep breath.