“My dear Joan!” exclaimed Cosmo, “the ring is not mine to give anybody, but if you will give me the stick, I shall be greatly obliged to you.”
“I will give it you on one condition, Cosmo,” answered Joan, “—that you take the ring as well. I do not care about rings.”
“I do,” answered Cosmo; “but sooner than take this from you, Joan, I would part with the hope of ever seeing you again. Why, dear Joan, you don’t know what this diamond is worth!—and you have no money!”
“Neither have you,” retorted Joan. “—What is the thing worth?”
“I do not like to say lest I should be wrong. If I could weigh it, I should be better able to tell you. But its worth must anyhow be, I think—somewhere towards two hundred pounds.”
“Then take it, Cosmo. Or if you won’t have it, give it to your father, with my dear love.”
“My father would say to me—‘How could you bring it, Cosmo!’ But I will not forget to give him the message. That he will be delighted to have.”
“But, Cosmo! it is of no use to me. How could I get the money you speak of for it? If I were to make an attempt of the kind, my brother would be sure to hear of it. It would be better to give it him at once.”
“That difficulty is easily got over,” answered Cosmo. “When I go, I will take it with me; I know where to get a fair price for it—not always easy for anything; I will send you the money, and you will be quite rich for a little while.”
“My brother opens all my letters,” replied Joan. “I don’t think he cares to read them, but he sees who they are from.”