herself, had been much diverted by it, as well
as interested in it, until the dramatic crisis had somehow taken their
breath away also, and startled them by a glimpse of the other side of
the question. But though Annie strove to recover her equanimity, and
Rose tried to hum a tune softly as the girls still loitered behind the
bannisters, to see the end of the play, they said nothing more to each
other; a sort of shyness and shame had stolen over them. It was not
enough to make them run away, especially as each did not realize that
what she felt was common to all. Only their lips were chained
simultaneously, and they were disposed to turn aside their heads and
avert their eyes, like Dora when she killed her man.

The deed did not take long--not more than was necessary for him to plead
once or twice with small variation on the words, "Will you not think of
it, Dora? Can you not give it a little consideration? Perhaps if I were
to wait, and you were to try----"

And for Dora to answer with drooping head, panting breast, and still
less variety in her phrases, "Oh, no, no, Mr. Tom. Of course, I am very
much obliged to you for thinking a great deal more of me than I deserve.
But, indeed, indeed, it cannot be--you must give it up--this foolish
fancy. It is a great pity that you have wasted time on such an absurd
idea."

"Wasted time!" he repeated, with a little irony and a little pathos.
"Well, I don't think it wasted even at this moment--and--and the idea
does not seem so absurd to me; but I will not distress you by forcing my
wishes upon you when you are so averse to them. You will allow me to
continue your friend, Miss Dora?"

"Yes, oh yes," sighed Dora, who would have said anything, short of
agreeing to marry him, to get him to go away, "if you like, after what
has happened. I know I don't deserve your friendship; but, indeed, I
could not help it, Mr. Robinson. I never guessed till lately that you
thought of anything else, and then I would have stopped you, but I
could not."

"Don't blame yourself," he said with a faint smile, "I am not blaming
you. I shall count it a favour, an honour, if you will let me do
anything for you that I can."

"Thank you very much," she murmured humbly.

"Then you will accept a little mark of my friendly feelings?" He took a
small case from his waistcoat pocket, opened it, and drew from it a
valuable ring, holding it out to her.

They were the most beautiful rubies and sapphires she h