Then, "I have brought you a small offering on my own account," he said in his courteous, rather tired voice. "May I present it? Or would you rather I waited a little?"
She felt the tears welling up, swiftly, swiftly, and clasped her throat to stay them. "Of course I would like it," she murmured almost inarticulately. "That—that is different."
He took a small, white packet from his pocket and put it into the hand he had been holding, without a word.
Dumbly, with quivering fingers, she opened it. There was something of tragedy in the silence, something of despair.
The paper fluttered to the ground, leaving a leather case in her grasp.
She glanced up at him.
"Won't you look inside?" he said gently.
She did so, in her eyes those burning tears she could not check. And there, gleaming on its bed of white velvet, she saw a wonderful jewel—a great star-shaped sapphire, deep as the heart of a fathomless pool, edged with diamonds that flashed like the sun upon the ripples of its shores. She gazed and gazed in silence. It was the loveliest thing she had ever seen.
Scott was watching her, his eyes very still, unchangeably steadfast. "The sapphire for friendship," he said.
She started as one awaking from a dream. In the passage outside the half-open door she heard the sound of her mother's voice approaching. With a swift movement she closed the case and hid it in her dress.
"I can't show it to anyone yet," she said hurriedly.