"One that hath been dust these sixty years."
"Well, well! be it so. I trust thee, Sister Agnes. Only remember, thy thoughts should be above, not below."
"Below is the dust only," said Agnes. "What I loved is above."
The old nun who kept the keys of the treasury found the silver ring, and brought it to the Abbess. A faint smile greeted the remembered token as it was slipped on the thin hand.
"Remove it not, I pray," she said, "until I am not here to care for it. And now suffer me to keep silence, for I would commune with God."
The hand that bore the ring was laid upon her breast, with the other hand crossed over it. Two hours passed, and she never stirred.
"She must lack food now," whispered the Abbess to Sister Katherine.
Sister Katherine shook her more experienced head.
"She will eat no more, save of the angels' manna."
That night, Sister Margaret unlocked the treasury, and restored the ruby ring to its place. Agnes Marston cared for it no more.