Cosmo could not reply for pleasure. Mr. Burns saw his emotion, and understood it. From that hour they were friends who loved each other.
“And now for the ring!” said the jeweller.
Cosmo produced it.
Mr. Burns looked at it as if his keen eyes would pierce to the very heart of its mystery, turned it every way, examined it in every position relative to the light, removed it from its setting, went through the diamond catechism with it afresh, then weighed it, thought over it, and said,
“What do you take the stone to be worth, Mr. Warlock?”
“I can only guess, of course,” replied Cosmo; “but the impression on my mind is, that it is worth more nearly two hundred than a hundred and fifty pounds.”
“You are right,” answered Mr. Burns, “and you ought to have followed my trade; I could make a good jeweller of you. This ring is worth two hundred guineas, fair market-value. But as I can ask for no one more than it is absolutely worth, I must take my profit off you: do you think that is fair?”
“Perfectly,” answered Cosmo.
“Then I must give you only two hundred pounds for it, and take the shillings myself. You see it may be some time before I get my money again, so I think five per cent on the amount is not more than the fair thing.”
“It seems to me perfectly fair, and very moderate,” replied Cosmo.