"Yes, damn him!" said I, "and without apology, Cynthia. Now I am sure that you found that very ring—what they call the magic symbol. Sometimes I think that there is something in their superstition about it. Such eyes were never seen in human head! I thought of giving Christophe that ring, and pretending that I had made it. If he believes that I can do so much, he may think that I can do still more. He may even take a fancy to me and make me his favourite."
"Yes, and marry you to one of those girls. No, Hiram, I should not like that at all."
To say that these words delighted me is superfluous.
"Then what shall I do with it, Cynthia? Shall I give it to you?"
"N—n—no," said Cynthia hesitatingly. "I suppose your plan is best, after all. Where do you carry it?"
"Tied to a cord around my neck," said I.
"They may come at night while you are asleep and take it. I have a needle stuck in my dress now, with a needleful of thread. I stuck it there on purpose, thinking that you might want a little sewing done. I have brought it every evening. Do you know that I have been here every evening since I wrote to you? I took it out of Aunt Mary 'Zekel's bag before I came out—the needle and thread, I mean."
"Bless you, dear!" said I. "My clothes are new, and I have no pockets. They saw to that. Perhaps it would be as well to let you secure it somewhere, that I may not lose it, until the proper time comes to surprise the King."
"When will that be?" asked Cynthia.
"To-morrow, I think. I have had time enough. The time was up yesterday." As I spoke I took the ring from beneath my shirt front and, breaking the cord, handed it to Cynthia. It lay like a heavy weight in her hand, and, even though there was hardly a ray of light, the eyes shone with a glow almost luminous.