n.

"There is sorcery for you, and a doll worth having; being one of the
sort that can shut its eyes; it was going to bed, but its mamma relented
and lends it to us for the night. I told Mrs. Dodd you wanted her, and
couldn't wait, so she sent her clothes; but the room is so warm let the
dear play in her pretty bed-gown."

Sylvia received her lovely plaything with enthusiasm, and Tilly felt
herself suddenly transported to a baby's Paradise, where beds were
unknown and fruit and freedom were her welcome portion. Merrily popped
the corn, nimbly danced the nuts upon the shovel, lustily remonstrated
the rosy martyrs on the hearth, and cheerfully the minutes slipped away.
Sylvia sung every jubilant air she knew, Moor whistled astonishing
accompaniments, and Tilly danced over the carpet with nut-shells on her
toes, and tried to fill her little gown with "pitty flowers" from its
garlands and bouquets. Without the wind lamented, the sky wept, and the
sea thundered on the shore; but within, youth, innocence, and love held
their blithe revel undisturbed.

"How are the spirits now?" asked one playmate of the other.

"Quite merry, thank you; and I should think I was little Sylvia again
but for the sight of this."

She held up the hand that wore a single ornament; but the hand had grown
so slender since it was first put on, that the ring would have fallen
had she not caught it at her finger-tip. There was nothing of the boy in
her companion's face, as he said, with an anxious look--

"If you go on thinning so fast I shall begin to fear that the little
wife is not happy with her old husband. Is she, dear?"

"She would be a most ungrateful woman if she were not. I always get thin
as winter comes on, but I'm so careless I'll find a guard for my ring
to-morrow."

"No need to wait till then; wear this to please me, and let Marion's
cipher signify that you are _mine_."

With a gravity that touched her more than the bestowal of so dear a
relic, Moor unslung a signet ring from his watchguard, and with some
difficulty pressed it to its place on Sylvia's finger, a most effectual
keeper for that other ring whose tenure seemed so slight. She shrunk a
little and glanced up at him, because his touch was more firm than
tender, and his face wore a masterful expression seldom seen there; for
instinct, subtler than perception, prompted both act and aspect. Then
her eye fell and fixed upon the dark stone with the single letter
engraved upon