Set in a slender ring were three great diamonds, and for a guard there was a little circlet of sapphires.
"Perhaps you won't care to wear it now," he said, as she gave a gasp of delight, "but I wanted you to have it. I wanted it to be the sign and seal of the bond which is between us."
She came to him, then all gratitude and clinging sweetness, and put up her face to be kissed.
He touched his lips to her forehead. And he said he was glad that he had made her happy. But he did not tell her that he had forced himself to plight thus, tangibly, his troth to her that there might be no escape from the path of honor which he must follow.
Little Bettina, alone that night in her room, took off the rosy dress and laid it on her bed. Then, enveloped in her long white motor coat, she went out on her porch, and curled up in one of the big chairs. Across the harbor the lights were out at the yacht club. Between the Neck and the main shore little starlike points showed where the lanterns were swung on the sleeping boats. It was long after midnight, and the cold morning mists were already coming in.
But she could not sleep. She had so many wonderful things to think of. A few weeks ago she had been a little lonely child with no one who cared whether she lived or died—now she was rich in love and friendship.
She turned the ring on her finger. How strange it seemed to think that in a few short months she would be—married. That she would belong to Anthony until death should part them.
Her breath came quickly. She stood up, slim and white in her long coat. Then suddenly she slipped to her knees.
"Oh, please, please," she prayed, with her face upturned to the waning stars, "make me worthy of his love. Make me worthy to be his wife."