"One of us, of course," said Kate.
"No, neither, so far as I know; but it nearly concerns you, Miss Lina, and I intend to drive a hard bargain."
"What are your terms?"
"Promise faithfully to tell me how it came where I found it, and I will show it to you,—yes, give it to you,—though, perhaps, I have the best claim to it, as nearest of kin to the owner."
Kate changed color, but would not betray too much eagerness.
"I cannot promise," she replied, trying for coolness,—"but if I can, I will tell you all you want to know about it."
Alice could hide it no longer. She held up a ring, with a motto on it in blue enamel. I had seen it upon Kate's finger, but not recently.
"Where did you find it?" asked my sister, with difficulty. She was very pale.
"In the box-tree arbor. How came it there? It was Watty's, for I was with him when he bought it in Venice. I can believe that it is yours; but how came it lost, and trampled into the earth? Didn't you care for it?"
She questioned with an arch smile. She knew better than that, and she was burning with curiosity to understand why finding it moved Kate so deeply. She had a young girl's curiosity about love-affairs. I came to the conclusion that Kate had offered to return the ring on the day they parted, and that it fell to the ground, disregarded by both, occupied, as they were, with great emotions.