"God knoweth," he said. "How do I know? I have a fancy sometimes—a foreboding, if you will—that my life will not be long. So much the better. Yet I do not wish to be longing selfishly for rest ere the Lord's work for me is done. Look here, Celia! Look well at this ring, so that you will know it again in any place after any lapse of time."
He drew the ring from his finger and passed it to her. It was an old-fashioned gold ring, set with a single ruby. Inside it was engraved in obsolete spelling, a "posy"—
"In thys my chance
I doe rejoyce."
"I shall know this again," said Celia, returning the ring after a close inspection. "'Tis an old jewel."
"A family heirloom," said Edward. "Our mother was married with that ring. It came into out family as the wedding-ring of Lady Grissel Fleming, our grandmother. I will endeavor to contrive, dear Cicely, that by some means this ring shall reach your hands after my death. When you next see it in the possession of any but myself, it will signify to you that I have entered into my rest."
"Edward, where is your wife?" asked Celia, suddenly.
A spasm of pain crossed Edward's face.
"I have no wife," he said. "The Lord had more need of my Flora than I had, and two summers past He said unto her, 'Come up higher.' I am almost glad now that she was spared this. I saw her but twice after I parted from you at Havre. And I do not think it will be long now ere I shall see her again."
"You seem to like the prospect, Edward," said Celia, remonstratingly.
"Have I so very much to live for, my sister? I can do no good to you, especially now that we must be parted; and my sole object in life is to do and suffer all the will of God. Do you wonder if I wish at times that it would be the Lord's will to summon me home?"