f the matchless stone, peeped into the circlet. To my surprise
the words inscribed on the gold were "Kismet and Miss Cunningham." They
were absolutely unbroken, not a letter blurred, and the surface of the
ring gave the appearance of having been untouched since first it was
fashioned. I was certain that it had not been cut. This being so, how
had the thing been removed from the finger of its owner?

"You are wondering at the words written inside, aren't you?" Karine
asked, coming a little nearer to me. "It does seem extraordinary that
they should be there, doesn't it, when you think that the ring was made
many years ago, and was not intended for me at all? But--Mr. Wildred has
explained the mystery, which is a part of the history of the heirloom,
and accounts for his being particularly anxious for me to wear it."

I, too, could have explained the "mystery." I had been told by Farnham
that the stone had come from the first diamond mine in which he had been
interested. It had been fancifully dubbed "Kismet," and the gold mine,
which he had lately sold to Carson Wildred, had (as he had informed me
that night of our meeting at the theatre) rejoiced in the name of the
"Miss Cunningham." Doubtless the inscription was intended to commemorate
the fact that the gold forming the ring had been taken from the one
mine, the diamond from the other. But, knowing all this, I was none the
less anxious to hear what Karine might have to say.

"It does sound an odd coincidence," I remarked. "Will you tell me the
story?"

I had a very specific object in carrying on this conversation; but as
for Karine, I could feel that her part of it was sustained merely for
the sake of keeping me from treading upon more dangerous ground. Yet
despite this nervous anxiety of hers, I could see--or I flattered
myself--that she was vaguely surprised and piqued that I should be
willing to discuss so trifling a subject during the fleeting moments
before Lady Tressidy might be expected to appear.

"You may hear the little romance if you like," the girl said, a faint
wistfulness in her sweet voice. "Sixty or seventy years ago, Mr. Wildred
tells me, a very dashing ancestor of his fell in love with a Miss
Cunningham. That is not a very uncommon name, you know. He was
penniless, and she an heiress. Her father would have nothing to do with
him, and told him he need not hope to win his daughter unless within a
year he could afford to buy her the finest diamond betr