"Let me see your blade; is it sharp?"
"Behold it," said Ellen, drawing it forth. The blade was very elaborately engraved with Indian devices; along the centre was carved the owner's name—George Elliot Ravensworth. The steel was very bright—the handle formed of silver finely chased.
"Let me have it in my hands?"
"You won't betray your trust, you won't deprive me of my only, sad comfort."
"Trust me."
"I will," said Ellen, "falsehood never shaded that fair brow."
Juana took the weapon, and then read the name.
"What! did you say this was your brother's?"
"Yes, my poor George's; he is now dead!"
"Oh, my God!" cried Juana, "and have I lived to see his sister?"