“I am sure I don’t want to,” he replied, with fervour; “but indeed you are good and kind, Edith. I never expected it; I was afraid that when you had heard you would turn your back upon me.”
“We are taught to forgive one another,” she answered, a little smile that would not be suppressed trembling about the corners of her mouth; and again she held out her hand—this time the left—and suffered him to kiss it.
In fact, he did more, for drawing off the only ring he ever wore, an ancient gold ring carved with a strange device—it was the throne-name of a Pharaoh, which Pharaoh himself had worn for three thousand years within the tomb—he put it on her third finger as a sign and a token for ever.
“Another of those unlucky mummy things,” reflected Edith. “I wish I could get clear of the Egyptians and everything to do with them. They seem to haunt me.”
But she said nothing, only lifting the ring she touched it with her lips, a sight that may have surprised the spirit of Pharaoh.
“Rupert,” she said, “don’t say anything of this to-night, except to your mother, if you wish. You understand, Dick’s temper is so very unpleasant, though,” she added, with emphasis, “I hope you understand also that I have no confessions to make to you about him or anybody else. I can’t help it if he has always—pursued me.”
“He had better give up his pursuit now,” grumbled Rupert, “or there will be trouble.”
“Quite so. Well, I have no doubt he will, when he comes to know, only, to tell the truth, I would rather he didn’t know while you are here. I don’t want a scene.”
“Well, if you like, dearest,” said Rupert, “although I hate it, I can go away to-morrow morning, and meet you in a few days in London,” and he told her of his shooting engagement.
“That will suit very well indeed,” she said, with relief, “although, as you say, it is horrid under our new circumstances, especially as to catch that train at Liverpool Street, you will have to leave by eight to-morrow. Well, you will be back on Saturday, so we must make the best of it. Good gracious, look at the clock, the dinner-bell will ring in two minutes, and you are not dressed. Go at once, dear, or—it will be noticed. There, that is enough. Go, darling, my lover who will be my husband, go.”