“You must come to Cheshire Park—my mother’s and sister’s home. Next year I shall hope to show it to you,” he said, earnestly.
Did he mean that he hoped she would go there with him, or was it merely a wish that she would visit England, that he might be able to return some of the courtesies which she and her mother had shown him?
She could not tell, but hope seemed deserting her; her heart beat heavily, she grew pale and sad, and a slight shiver shook her.
He noticed it.
“You are taking cold, I fear; we ought not to sit here in this evening air.”
“No, I am not taking cold; I will tie my handkerchief around my throat, however,” she answered.
It was so pleasant sitting there beside him, so pleasant to listen to his rich, deep voice and look into his clear brown eyes, that she could not bear to think of going back to the hotel just yet.
She tied her handkerchief about her white throat, and as she did so, the light struck full upon a ring which he had not seen her wear before.
It was a lovely cameo, very delicately cut. It was Star’s little treasure, the gift of Archibald Sherbrooke.
“Pardon me,” Lord Carrol said, with a slight start as he observed it, “but you have a ring on your hand that I have never seen you wear before. It is very lovely. May I examine it more closely?”