"This is what ladies call an engagement-ring," he said; "let me put it on your finger." She shrank back. "Lance," she said, "do you remember the words of the song, "'A ring in pledge he gave her, And vows of love he spoke.' How strange that by this stream you should offer me a ring!" "You seem to think there is a fatality in the water, Leone," he said, quietly. "I have an idea that I cannot express, but it seems to me that story is told in the falling water." "If the water tells of a golden bright life, all happiness, with the most devoted and loving of husbands, then it may tell you as much as it likes. Let me put the ring on your finger, Leone." She held out her hand--such a beautiful hand, with a soft, pink palm and tapering fingers. As he went to place the ring on her finger, it fell from his hand into the water below, and Leone uttered a low cry. "It is not lost," he said; "it has not fallen into the stream, it is here." Looking down, she saw the flash of the diamonds in the little pool that lay between two stones, Lord Chandos wiped it and dried it. "You will prize it all the more because it has been dipped in your favorite stream," he said. "Give me your hand again, Leone; we shall have better fortune this time." He placed the ring securely on her finger, then kissed the white hand. "How angry you were with me the first time I kissed your hand," he said; "and now I have all your heart. There will be neither broken vows nor a broken ring for us, Leone, no matter what the water sings or says." "I hope not," says the girl, brightly. "I shall take possession of my lodgings at Oheton to-morrow," he said. "I shall have to spend some little time there; but you must promise that I shall see you every evening, Leone. Will you find your way to the mill-wheel? When we are married, I shall try to buy the mill, the stream, and the land all round it; it will be a sacred spot to me. In three weeks, Leone, you will be my wife." "Yes," she replied, "in three weeks." The wind fell, the ripple of the green leaves ceased, the birds had sung themselves to sleep, only the water ran laughingly on. "Lance," cried the girl, suddenly, "do you know what the water says--can you hear it?" "No," he replied, with a laugh; "I have not such a vivid fancy as you. What does it say?" "Nothing but sorrow, nothing but sorrow," she chanted. "I cannot hear that; if it says anything at all, it is nothing but love, nothing but love." And then, as the shades of night were coming on, he saw her safely home. That same evening Lord Chandos and Sir Frank Euston talked long together. "Of course," said Sir Frank, "if you put me on my honor, I cannot speak, but I beg of you to stop and think." Lord Chandos laughed; his handsome face was flushed and eager. "The man who hesitates is lost," he said. "All the thinking in the world cannot alter matters, nor make me love my darling less."