Celia was in her usual place in the arbor bending over a piece of embroidery, when Belle found her.
"Miss Celia, I have the strangest thing to tell you," she began, and then unfolded her story.
Celia listened in astonishment. "Why, Belle, it isn't possible—you don't think—"
"Miss Celia, I don't know. I saw the ring, and I know Morgan isn't a thief, but I don't understand it."
"No, indeed. Morgan, whom we have always known—who is honest as the day!" Celia was silent for a moment, then she said, "Belle, it seems to me the only thing for you to do is to tell Mr. Whittredge. The ring belongs to him; he will know what to do far better than we, and he will think of Morgan, too."
"I would have told him, but he has gone away."
Belle wondered a little at Miss Celia's tone; it was as if she cared a great deal.
"I don't think he will be gone long. He took Rosalind with him," she added.
"Then I should wait till his return. A few days more can't make much difference. You have been very wise not to mention it to any one."