Juanna turned a shade paler, and answered:
“I trust so. At least I have had enough of them. By the way, Mr. Outram, I—I—have to thank you for a great deal;” here her eyes caught the gleam of the gold circlet on the third finger of her left hand—“this ring belongs to you, I will return it at once.”
“Miss Rodd,” said Leonard gravely, “we have passed through a very strange adventure together; will you not keep the ring in remembrance of it?”
Her strong impulse was to refuse. While she wore this ring the thought of that hateful scene and still more hateful mockery of marriage would be always with her. And yet, as the words of prompt refusal were on her lips, a feeling, an instinct, almost a superstition caused them to remain unspoken. “You are very kind,” she said, “but this is your signet-ring—is not that what you call it? You cannot wish to give it to a chance acquaintance.”
“Yes, it is my signet-ring, and if you will look at the crest and motto you will see that they are not inappropriate. And I do wish to give it even ‘to a chance acquaintance,’ Miss Rodd, if you will allow me no more intimate term.”
“I have looked at them,” she answered, as she examined the ring curiously. It was of plain and somewhat massive gold, and deeply cut into the shield-faced bezel was the Outram crest, a hand holding a drawn sword, beneath which the motto was engraved. “What is the last word of the motto?” she went on; “it is so rubbed that I cannot read it—‘For Home, Honour——‘”
“‘And Heart,’” said Leonard.
Juanna blushed, though why the word “heart” should make her blush she knew not.
“Well, I will wear the ring, if you wish it, Mr. Outram, in memory of our adventure—that is, until you ask it back again,” she said confusedly; then added with a change of tone: “There is one detail of the adventure that I hope you will not allude to more than you can avoid, for the recollection of it is most painful to me, probably more so even than to you.”
“I suppose you mean the ceremony of marriage, Miss Rodd.”