I would not let her continue to think that she was right in the guess she had made as to my emotion.
"It was not wholly that, Miss Cunningham," I returned. "Say, rather I was surprised at seeing you wear this particular ring."
"It is a remarkable one, isn't it? Far too gorgeous and conspicuous to please me, for myself; but Mr. Wildred was anxious for me to have it. I believe it has been in his family a long time, and has been handed down from generation to generation of betrothed brides–happier than myself." The last three words were spoken almost in a whisper, but I heard and understood them as I would have understood the faintest murmur from those lips so dearly loved.
Some dim awakening thought, scarcely clear to my own consciousness, stirred in my mind at her strange announcement. I could not resist further questioning.
"Did Mr. Wildred tell you that the ring was an heirloom in his family?"
"Yes. There is a romance attached to it."
She sighed faintly, as though at the death of romance in her own young life. Then, more quickly–
"Why, Mr. Stanton? Why do you ask me that?"
I could not tell her why; but my heart was bounding with a new excitement.
"Forgive my curiosity," I said evasively. "I am interested in all that concerns you."