“What? who? are you out of your mind?” said Helen, examining the large, fine cambric handkerchief, with its delicately stamped initials under the stag’s head, and three stars on a heart-shaped shield. “Where did you get it?” she added, as she inhaled the soft odor of violets shaken from its folds.
Amy blushed and answered shyly, “I didn’t tell you all that happened before uncle, but now I will. My hat was left behind, and when I recovered my wits after my fright, I found this tied over my head. Oh, Nell, it was very charming there in that romantic old park, and going through the vaults with him, and having my hand kissed at parting. No one ever did that before, and I like it.”
Amy glanced at her hand as she spoke, and stood staring at it as if struck dumb, for there on her forefinger shone a ring she had never seen before.
“Look! look! mine is gone, and this in its place! Oh, Nell, what shall I do?” she said, looking half frightened, half pleased.
Helen examined the ring and shook her head, for it was far more valuable than the little pearl one which it replaced. Two tiny hands of finest gold were linked together about a diamond of great brilliancy; and on the inside appeared again the initials, “S. P.”
“How did it happen?” she asked, rather sternly.
“Upon my word, I don’t know, unless he put it on while I was stupidly fainting. Rude man, to take advantage of me so. But, Nell, it is splendid, and what shall I do about it?”
“Tell uncle, find out the man and send back his things. It really is absurd, the manner in which German boys behave;” and Helen frowned, though she was strongly tempted to laugh at the whole thing.
“He was neither a German nor a boy, but an English gentleman, I’m sure,” began Amy, rather offended.
“But ‘S. P.’ is a baron, you know, unless there are two Richmonds in the field,” broke in Helen.