But the feverish flush on the girl's cheek did not deepen under the jealous scrutiny of the watcher. She watched with a sigh of positive relief.
"Many thanks, but it is not possible for me to do so, Felise; Doctor Graham said that I must remain closely confined to my sofa at least two weeks. And indeed I could not leave it if I tried. My foot is much swollen and I cannot stand at all."
She pushed out the little member from under the skirt of her warm white wrapper, and Felise saw that she spoke truly.
She rose and came nearer under pretense of examining it.
"Why, what a pretty little ring you wear—is it a new one?" said she suddenly, and in an instant she had dexterously slipped it off Bonnibel's finger, and, holding it up, read the inscription within, "Mizpah!" "Why, how romantic! Is it a love token, Bonnibel?"
Bonnibel's lips were quivering like a grieved child's, and quick tears sprang into her eyes.
"Felise," she said, reproachfully, "you should not have taken it off. I never meant for that ring to leave my finger while I lived, never!"
Felise laughed—a low, sneering laugh—and tossed her jetty braids.
"Here, take your ring," she said scornfully; "I did not know you were going to be such a baby over it. It must have been the gift of a lover to be so highly prized—perhaps it was given you by Leslie Dane."
Bonnibel slipped the ring back on her tapering third finger, while a hot flush mounted to her brow.