"I thought"—said I—"that, for a lawful marriage, the wedding ring must have the Hall mark?"
"I don't think it indispensable. I take it, brass would be as binding. Indeed, my love, I think according to the Council of Nice, or Trent, or Gretna Green—I forget which—a marriage has been solemnised with nothing more than a simple curtain-ring."
"Nonsense," said I; "such a marriage could never hold. Curtain-rings are very well in their way; but give me the real gold."
"True, my love, that's the purity of your woman's nature. In such a covenant we can't be too real. Any way"—and he took my wedding-finger between his—"any way, Lotty, yours seems strong enough to hold, ay, three husbands."
"One's enough," said I, looking and laughing at him.
"At a time"—said Fred; "but when we're about buying a ring, it's as well to have an article that will wear. Bless you," and he pressed his thumb upon my ring, "this will last me out and another."—
"Frederick," I cried very angrily; and then—I couldn't help it—I almost began to weep. Whereupon, in his kind, foolish manner he—well, I didn't cry.
"Let us, my darling," said Fred, after a minute, "let us return to our arms. And you came in with the Normans?"
"With William the Conqueror, papa says, so we must have arms."—
"I remember"—said Fred, as grave as a judge—"once, a little in his cups, your father told me all about it. I recollect. Very beautiful arms: a Normandy pippin with an uplifted battle-axe."