"Twenty shillings," dropped from the lips of Mr. Edwards.
"Twenty shillings! Twenty shillings!" cried the auctioneer with renewed animation. The man who had been bidding against the girl turned quickly to see what bold bidder was in the field: and most of the company turned with him. The young woman at the same time drew aside her veil and looked anxiously towards Mr. Edwards, who, as he obtained a fuller view of her face, was struck with it as familiar.
"Twenty-one shillings," was bid in opposition.
"Twenty-five," said the merchant, promptly.
The first bidder, seeing that Mr. Edwards was determined to run against him, and being a little afraid that he might be left with a ruinous bid on his hands, declined advancing, and the locket was assigned to the young merchant, who, as soon as he had received it, turned and presented it to the young woman, saying as he did so—
"It is yours."
The young woman caught hold of it with an eager gesture, and after gazing on it for a few moments, pressed it to her lips.
"I have not the money to pay for it," she said in a low sad voice, recovering herself in a few moments; and seeking to return the miniature.
"It is yours!" replied Mr. Edwards. Then thrusting back the hand she had extended, and speaking with some emotion, he said—"Keep it—keep it, in Heaven's name!"
And saying this he hastily retired, for he became conscious that many eyes were upon him; and he felt half ashamed to have betrayed his weakness before a coarse, unfeeling crowd. For a few moments he lingered in the street; but his companion not appearing, he went on his way, musing on the singular adventure he had encountered. The more distinctly he recalled the young woman's face, the more strangely familiar did it seem.