"Oh, Adeline! Adeline! I wonder if she is really betrothed to him?"
"That's a superfluous wonder of yours, Rose," said Mary Carr. "The white wreath is on her head, and the betrothal ring on her finger."
"If a shaven goat--and that's what he is--put the ring upon mine, I should look out for some one else to take it off again," retorted Rose. "Dear Adeline!" she continued, as the latter advanced, "let me see your ring."
Adeline drew off her glove and her ring together.
"You should not have taken it from your finger," remarked Mary Carr. "We hold a superstition in Holland--some do--that a betrothal ring, once removed from the finger, will never be exchanged for a nuptial one."
"Sheer nonsense, like most other superstitions," said Adeline; and her perfect indifference of manner proved that no love had entered into her betrothal--as, indeed, how should it?
"What had you both to do?"
"Only sign some writings, and then he placed the ring on my finger. Nothing more."
"Except a sealing kiss," said Rose, saucily.
The colour stole over Adeline's face. Even her fair open brow, as it met the chaplet of white roses, became flushed.