“Perhaps you will allow me to open the parcel, and see what it all means,” said Eve, with the eldest sister’s dignity.
The two young barbarians had had the breakfast-table to themselves, Sophy and Jenny not having appeared. There were certain operations with spirit-lamp and tongs which made these young ladies later than the unsophisticated juniors.
“I shall scold him savagely for sending me this, after what I told him yesterday,” said Eve, as she tore open the carefully sealed parcel.
She was of Hetty’s opinion. The gift could be from none but her lover.
“Oh, oh, oh!” they cried, all three of them, in a chorus of rapture, as the box was opened.
The crescent was of sapphires, deeply, darkly, beautifully blue, without flaw or feather. Small brilliants filled in the corners between the stones, but these hardly showed in that blue depth and darkness. The effect was of a solemn, almost mysterious splendour.
“Oh, how wicked, how wilful of him, to waste such a fortune upon me!” cried Eve, taking the crescent out of its velvet bed.
Under the jewel, like the asp under the fig-leaves, there lay a visiting-card.
“From Mr. Sefton, with all best wishes.”
Eve dropped the brooch as if it had stung her.