usive. And I think myself
there must have been something meteoric about my birth star. Doubtless
that is why I agree so well with Nick. He's meteoric, too." She
slipped cosily down upon a stool by Muriel's side. "He's a nice boy,
isn't he?" she said sympathetically. "And is that his ring? Ah, let
me look at it! I think I have seen it before. No, don't take it off!
That's unlucky."

But Muriel had already drawn it from her finger. "It's beautiful," she
said warmly. "Do you know anything about it? It looks as if it had a
history."

"It has," said Daisy. "I remember now. He showed it to me once when I
was staying at his brother's house in England. I know the Ratcliffes
well. My husband used to live with them as a boy. It came from the old
maiden aunt who left him all his money. She gave it to him before she
died, I believe, and told him to keep it for the woman he was sure to
love some day. Nick was an immense favourite of hers."

"But the ring?" urged Muriel.

Daisy was frowning over the inscription within it, but she was fully
aware of the soft colour that had flooded the girl's face at her
words.

"OMNIA VINCIT AMOR," she read slowly. "That is it, isn't it? Ah, yes,
and the history of it. It's rather sad. Do you mind?"

"I am used to sad things," Muriel reminded her, with her face turned
away toward the mountains.

Daisy pressed her hand gently. "It is a French ring," she said. "It
belonged to an aristocrat who was murdered in the Reign of Terror.
He sent it by his servant to the girl he loved from the steps of the
guillotine. I don't know their names. Nick didn't tell me that. But
she was English."

Muriel had turned quickly back. Her interest was aroused. "Yes," she
said eagerly, as Daisy paused. "And she?"

"She!" Daisy's voice had a sudden hard ring in it. "She remained
faithful to him for just six months. And then she married an
Englishman. It was said that she did it against her will. Still she
did it. Luckily for her, perhaps, she died within the year--when her
child was born."

Daisy rose abruptly and moved across the room. "That was more than a
hundred years ago," she said, "and women are as great fools still. If
they can't marry the man they love--they'll marry--anything."

Muriel was silent. She felt as if she had caught sight of something
that she had not been intended to see.

But in a moment Daisy came back, and, kneeling beside her, slipped the
ring on to her finger again. "Yet love conqu