“The same as you did before you knew me, I suppose,” she answered, holding her left hand up, so that the diamonds caught the light and glittered in the sun. “By-the-by, David, I should very much like to give you a little present as a memento of this occasion, and I don’t quite know what to get for you.”
His eyes sparkled eagerly, and he almost made a hasty answer, but managed to control himself in time.
“As long as I have you, my darling,” he answered, pressing her hand, “I want nothing in the world besides. You have given me the best present possible, Celia—yourself.”
“And I admit I am a handful,” she returned, smiling. “But still I want you to accept a little souvenir, David, just to please me. What shall it be? An umbrella, or a card-case, or a pair of cuff-links?”
He rose from his chair at her side, and strode nervously about the room. Celia was still examining her ring, and did not see his face.
“Well, as you are so anxious to give me a present, dearest,” he said, after due consideration, “I should like something that has already been a sort of amulet to me—I mean your gold nugget. Of course, I don’t want it for its intrinsic value; but it is a curiosity, and has a history attached to it—it came from California, in the first place—and there is nothing you could give me that would please me more.”
If he had expected her to grant his request with alacrity he was mistaken. Sitting down to the piano she played a little arpeggio passage; then veered round on the music-stool, and faced him.
“I’m so sorry, David,” she began, apologetically, “but I am afraid I cannot give you that. Isn’t there anything else you would like? You see it is so very valuable, and——”
“And I suppose it’s too good for me,” he put in hastily. “I am sorry I asked for it, but I thought you gave me my choice. And it isn’t really of any use to you, Celia, so you might as well give it to me as keep it locked up in Mr. Friedberg’s safe.”
“I would with pleasure,” she answered, “only—— Don’t look so cross, David, but sit down, and I will tell you just how it is. You know Miss Wilton’s brother, don’t you, or, at least, you’ve seen him? He is a clergyman in a very poor parish near Hoxton. The people there are horribly, sordidly poor. They are housed together like cattle instead of human beings, with the consequence that vice and misery are rife amongst them. Most of them couldn’t go to church even if they wanted to, because they haven’t any decent clothes to go in. Oh, I almost had the nightmare after Mr. Wilton had told me of some of the horrors of their daily lives! He would not have told me, only I asked him: for since I came to London, my eyes have been opened to all the miserable poverty and suffering there is in this great city, and I wanted to know more about it; I don’t think it’s right to close one’s eyes to these things. Mr. Wilton took me over his church and parish this morning; it is a dreadfully poor church, and not at all properly fitted up. Well, to come to the point, I thought that, having this nugget, which, as you say, is of no use to me, it would be a good thing to sell it and give the money to one of Mr. Wilton’s funds. I am sure my father would have no objection to my selling it for such a good cause; and Mr. Friedberg has promised to dispose of it for me. Don’t you think it a nice idea, David?”