.

"Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,
And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,
As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon:
_Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together pressed_,
_And on her silver cross soft amethyst_,
_And on her hair a glory, like a saint_:
She seemed a splendid angel, newly dressed,
Save wings, for heaven!"

"Is it not exquisite?" asked Mortimer, looking in Daisy's face.

She nodded assent.

Mortimer fixed his eyes on a pearl necklace which gently clasped the girl's
neck, and started. The cross undulated on her bosom, which rose and fell
like two full white roses in the wind.

"Where did you get that?" and Mortimer laid his hand on her arm nervously.

"It was a freak," said Daisy, blushing. "Are you angry?"

"Not angry, Daisy."

"But you look so."

"Do I? I am not. I grow unhappy when I see that necklace."

"It was Bell's, then?"

"Yes--no--don't ask me, Daisy."

"Why?"

A shadow came over Mortimer's face.

That morning Daisy had been tempted to open the morocco case, and a desire
to clasp the white necklace on her neck became irresistible. Something drew
her to it, and the same feeling of mystery and longing which stole on her
when she first held the circlet in her hand while Mortimer was sleeping,
overpowered her. Almost unconsciously she fastened the gold clasp, and when
the little cross sunk down on her bosom, her heart grew lighter, and she
went over the house singing like a canary. She wore it the whole day,
pausing at times in her household duties to admire the pearls. After a
while she forgot its existence, and her intention to replace it before
Mortimer returned.

When Mortimer's eye caught sight of the necklace, Daisy was much
embarrassed, for she could, in no intelligible way, account for having
taken it. Mortimer was equally pained. He had unwillingly become possessed
of the ornament, and saw no means by which he could return it to Mr. Flint
without acknowledging that he had also taken the _check_. He dreaded to
make so humiliating a confession, and, perhaps, he stood a little in fear
of Mr. Flint's anger. The circumstance had caused him many moments of
anxiety, and an unpleasant thought came to him, as he saw the purloined
necklace on Daisy's innocent bosom.

"But you _are_ angry?" said Daisy, looking up with dimmed eyes.

"No, pet."

"Then you will kiss me?" said Daisy, in a most winning way.

Mortimer did what m