"It's very beautiful!" said Miss Essie, controlling herself into some order, and poring over the little hand she had made captive. "I never saw a greater beauty of a ring—never. Do you know what it means, Faith?" She dropped her voice and tapped significantly the finger.
Faith answered like a person put to the question,—"Yes."
"Do you?" said Miss Essie in the same low aside and half laughing. "I am so glad. I always thought it. But this is splendid, Faith. You don't know how handsome it is. It is easy to know where this came from. I needn't ask."
"I must ask you both to sit down," said Mr. Linden,—"Faith is not strong enough for much standing, Miss Essie."
"I can't sit down—I'm going away," said the lady. "I'll tell Sophy she may expect you the first day you can go out for so long,"—she went on renewing her half whisper to Faith. "Does she know of this?"—touching the diamonds which Miss Essie had not yet let go.
"No, Miss Essie—" Faith stood in great confusion. Mr. Linden left the table, and gently disengaging her from Miss Essie placed her in the great chair, and stood resting one hand on the back of it.
"Miss Essie," he said, "Faith belongs to me—and therefore if I take care of her strength in a somewhat summary way, you will forgive me."
Miss Essie paused and looked at him in most bewildering confusion. He had spoken and she had heard, very clearly.
"I don't believe it!"—she said with an attempt at jocularity in which there mingled somehow, inexplicably, a quality that was not pleasure. "Faith!—no double-dealing. Two is too much."
"Or even the suggestion of two," Mr. Linden said.