being so
poor. "You have got something, however," he continued, fixing his eye
on the ring on Margaret's finger. "Give me that ring. Give it me, or
else I'll take it."

Margaret's heart sank with a self-reproach worse than her grief, when
she remembered how easily she might have saved this ring--how easily she
might have thrust it under the fender, or dropped it into her shoe, into
her hair, anywhere, while the intruder was gone to the room door to his
companions. She felt that she could never forgive herself for this
neglect of the most precious thing she had in the world--of that which
most belonged to Philip.

"She cannot part with that ring," said Maria. "Look! you may see she
had rather part with any money she is ever likely to have than with that
ring."

She pointed to Margaret, who was sitting with her hands clasped as if
they were never to be disjoined, and with a face of the deepest
distress.

"I can't help that," said the man. "I must have what I can get."

He seized her hands, and, with one gripe of his, made hers fly open.
Margaret could no longer endure to expose any of her feelings to the
notice of a stranger of this character. "Be patient a moment," said
she; and she drew off the ring after its guard, made of Hester's hair,
and put them into the large hand which was held out to receive them;
feeling, at the moment, as if her heart was breaking. The man threw the
hair ring back into her lap, and tied the turquoise in the corner of the
shawl he wore.

"The lady up-stairs has got a watch, I suppose."

"Yes, she has: let me go and fetch it. Do let me go. I am afraid of
nothing so much as her being terrified. If you have any humanity, let
me go. Indeed I will bring the watch."

"Well, there is no man in the house, I know, for you to call. You may
go, Miss: but I must step behind you to the room door; no further--she
shan't see me, nor know any one is there, unless you tell her. This
young lady will sit as still as a mouse till we come back."

"Never mind me," said Maria, to her friend. While they were gone, she
sat as she was desired, as still as a mouse, enforced thereto by the
certainty that a man stood in the shadow by the door, with his eye upon
her the whole time.

Margaret lighted a chamber candle, in order, as she said, to look as
usual if her sister should see her. The robber did tread very softly on
the stairs, and stop outside the chamber-door. Morris was sitting up in