“Miss Howard, I have ventured to bring you a souvenir of my travels, which I beg you will accept from Mary's brother, and because of the association.”
He placed in her hand a heart-shaped locket, plain but heavy, in the centre of which glowed a large crimson ruby, and around it were engraved the words, “Cor cordium.” Within, on one side, was a miniature painting of the Sacred Heart of Jesus; on the other side was set a tiny crucifix, carved from the olive-wood of Gethsemani by one of the monks of Jerusalem, and which had been laid upon the altar in the Chapel of the Holy Sepulchre.
“And I prayed for you in that sacred spot most fervently, you may be sure,” said Mr. Percival.
Assunta's eyes were still fixed upon the beautiful treasure which she held in her hand. Tears were in them, as she raised them at last, saying:
“Words are poor thanks for such a gift as this. You know, Mr. Percival, how much I shall value it. Indeed, I feel most unworthy to possess anything so precious; yet I shall accept it, as you said, from the brother of my dearest friend, [pg 476] who is to me truly a sister in affection.” And pressing her lips to the crystal which protected the crucifix, she carefully replaced the locket in its case.
“And so you did not forget those foolish, fanciful remarks I made by Shelley's grave. I had not dreamed they would have dwelt in your memory so long; still less did I imagine they would inspire so beautiful a design as this, which is, of course, your own.” Then she added after a little pause: “There is one greater gift even than this that I shall ask of you one of these days. It is one of your first Masses, when, as a priest, you are privileged to offer the Holy Sacrifice.”
“Miss Howard,” exclaimed Mr. Percival, with deep emotion, “that is a subject of which I cannot even think without suffering.”
“Forgive me,” murmured Assunta, surprised beyond measure. “It was indeed unpardonable in me to pain you by speaking of that which is between yourself and God alone. My only excuse is that I thought the matter had long been settled.”
Then followed a silence, so prolonged that Assunta began to wonder what kept that manly head bowed forward upon the table. Was it confusion, was it prayer, or had he perhaps fainted? At last he suddenly looked up, and fixed those fine, earnest eyes of his full upon Assunta's face; and even in that moment the thought struck her what pure, true eyes they were.
“Miss Howard, you are the last person on earth to whom I ought to speak on this subject, and I know not what impels me to do so now. Pray for me; for my salvation may depend upon it.”