nt her husband to the
neighborhood of Clifford Hall to try and find out if there was a lady of
that name who had left it. The husband was a simple fellow, very unfit to
discharge so delicate a commission. He went at first, as a matter of
course, to the public-house; they directed him to the Hall, but he missed
it, and encountered a gentleman, whose quick eye fell upon the bracelet,
for the foolish man had shown it to so many people that now he was
carrying it in his hand, and it blazed in the meridian sun. This
gentleman said, "What have you got there?"

"Well, sir," said the man, "it was left at our hotel by a young couple
from these parts. Handsome couple they were, sir, and spending their
honey-moon."

"Let me see it," said Mr. Bartley, for he was the gentleman. He had come
back in some anxiety to see whether Hope had pacified Mary, or whether
he must exert himself to make matters smooth with her again. Whilst he
was examining the bracelet, who should appear but Percy Fitzroy, the
owner. Not that he came after the bracelet; on the contrary, that
impetuous young gentleman had discovered during the last two hours that
he valued Miss Clifford's love a great deal more than all the bracelets
in the world, for all that he was delighted at the unexpected sight of
his property.

"Why, that's mine," said he. "It's an heirloom. I lent it to Miss Julia
Clifford, and when I asked her for it to-day she could not produce it."

"Oho!" said Mr. Bartley. "What, do the ladies of the house of Clifford go
in for clandestine marriages?"

"Certainly not, sir," said Fitzroy. "Don't you know the difference
between a wedding ring and a bracelet?" Then he turned to the man, "Here
is a sovereign for your trouble, my man. Now give me my bracelet."

To his surprise the hotel-keeper put it behind his back instead of giving
it to him.

"Nay," said he, shaking his head knowingly, "you are not the gentleman
that spent the honey-moon with the lady as owns it. My mistress said I
was not to give it into no hands but hers."

This staggered Percy dreadfully, and he looked from one to another to
assist him in solving the mystery.

Bartley came to the assistance of his understanding, but with no regard
to the feelings of his heart. "It's clear enough what it means, sir; your
sweetheart is playing you false."

That went through the true-lover's heart like a knife, and poor little
Percy leaned in despair against Hope's workshop window transfixed