.

"No, no, indeed you do not," she replied. "Please forgive me. I know I
was very foolish. I am so sorry. You are so kind to me, you are always
giving me beautiful presents, and indeed I am not ungrateful. Only I
had never seen--seen--you like that before. And, please forgive me--I
will never be foolish again--indeed, I will not. But I was taken by
surprise. I beg your pardon. I shall be so dreadfully unhappy if you do
not forgive me."

And all the while her trembling hands fumbled helplessly with the
narrow ribbon tying the dainty parcel, and big tears rolled down slowly
out of her great, soft, wide-set, heifer's eyes. Never was there more
moving or guileless a spectacle! Witnessing which, Richard Calmady was
taken somewhat out of himself, his personal misfortune seeming matter
inconsiderable, while his childlike _fiancee_ had never appeared more
engaging. All the sweetest of his nature responded to her artless
appeal in very tender pity.

"Why, my dear Constance," he said, "there's nothing to forgive. I was
foolish, not you. I ought to have known better. Never mind. I don't.
Only wipe your pretty eyes, please. Yes--that's better. Now let me
break that tiresome ribbon for you."

"You are very kind to me," the girl murmured. Then, as the ribbon broke
under Richard's strong fingers, and the delicate necklace of many,
roughly-cut, precious stones--topaz, amethyst, sapphire, ruby,
chrysolite, and beryl joined together, three rows deep, by slender,
golden chains--slipped from the enclosing paper wrapping into her open
hands, Constance Quayle added, rather tearfully:--"Oh! you are much too
kind! You give me too many things. No one I know ever had such
beautiful presents. The cobs you told me of, and now this, and the
pearls, and the tiara you gave me last week. I--I don't deserve it. You
give me too much, and I give nothing in return."

"Oh yes, you do!" Richard said, flushing. "You--you give me yourself."

Lady Constance's tears ceased. Again she stared at him in gentle
perplexity.

"You promise to marry me----"

"Yes, of course, I have promised that," she said slowly.

"And isn't that about the greatest giving there can be? A few horses,
and jewels, and such rubbish of sorts, weigh pretty light in the
balance against that--I being I"--Richard paused a moment--"and
you--you."

But a certain ardour which had come into his speech, for all that he
sat very still, and that his expression was wholly gentle and
ind