“My dear lady,” he said, “my time is short, and I have a solemn message to deliver to you. Will you allow me to do so now?”
“To me?” she asked, in a tone of astonishment.
“From my departed friend,” answered Edward, emphatically.
“From Ferdinand? and that now—after—” she shrunk back, as if in terror.
“Now that he is no longer with us, do you mean? I found the message in his papers, which have been intrusted to me only lately, since I have been in the neighborhood. Among them was a token which I was to restore to you.” He produced the ring. Emily seized it wildly, and trembled as she looked upon it.
“It is indeed my ring,” she said at length, “the same which I gave him when we plighted our troth in secret. You are acquainted with every thing, I perceive; I shall therefore risk nothing if I speak openly.” She wept, and pressed the ring to her lips.
“I see that my friend’s memory is dear to you,” continued Edward. “You will forgive the prayer I am about to make to you; my visit to you concerns his ring.”
“How—what is it you wish?” cried Emily, terrified.
“It was his wish,” replied Edward. “He evinced an earnest desire to have this pledge of an unfortunate and unfulfilled engagement restored.”
“How is that possible? You did not speak with him before his death; and this happened so suddenly after, that, to give you the commission—”