He took them with fond thanks, and involuntarily laid the bright blossoms, weighted with their fragrance, against his lips. Then, with a sudden start and a brilliant smile, he said, eagerly:
“Ah! strange I did not think before; but now I can give you something that I purchased this morning, hoping to have time to drop it in the office for you, but did not after all.”
He took a little case from his pocket, opened it, and drew forth a lovely ring, set with one large, rare, pure pearl.
“Hold out the finger I want, Editha,” he commanded, softly.
And, with downcast eyes and a deeper, richer surging of color, she held out the forefinger of her left hand, while, with a look of reverence and solemn joy, he slipped the ring to its place.
“I am glad that I can put it on myself, instead of sending it, as I thought I must. Do you like it, Editha?” he asked, regarding the shyly downcast face with exceeding tenderness.
“I cannot tell you how much, Earle.”
“I am glad. I suppose, however, that a diamond would have been the proper thing, since, being the most precious stone, it perhaps more fitly represents the most precious gift a man can receive; but to me this pure hearted pearl is a more appropriate symbol of the love I have won than the cold glitter of diamonds. My darling, this small hand belongs to me now.”
“Yes, Earle, it is all your own,” Editha answered, now raising her eyes, which were full of tender tears, to his.
Then, with a movement graceful as it was involuntary, she lifted her hand and touched her lips to the pure, gleaming pearl.