There was one very valuable pearl necklace which she was wont to assume at magnificent functions like the present ducal reception, and in a conversation the day before it took place, Rosabelle carelessly remarked to her aunt that she supposed she would wear it when the evening arrived. Mrs. Morrice had appeared to hesitate before she answered. When she did, she spoke in an indifferent tone, and, to the girl’s quick ears, it seemed that the indifference was assumed. “I suppose I shall, my dear, but I haven’t really made up my mind, probably shan’t do so till the last minute. I might put on something a bit newer. I have worn it so often, everybody who knows me has seen it dozens of times.” A painful thought crossed Rosabelle’s mind and gave her an inward shiver, but on reflection she dismissed it. Her aunt’s fondness for her nephew might lead her to stint herself in many ways to enable her to minister to his extravagances, but surely she would not go to any desperate lengths. But that hesitation, the assumed indifference of her manner, were very strange. This particular necklace was far and away the most exquisite and costly thing in her collection, which was pretty extensive. She had other necklaces of varying value, but nothing that was so suitable to such an important occasion. Mrs. Morrice was the last to come down, the other two had been ready for some little time and were waiting for her in the hall. To the girl’s surprise, she wore a necklace of considerable value, but only about half that of the gem of the collection. Again Rosabelle felt that curious sensation that there was some hidden significance in the fact. Morrice was not, as a rule, very observant of woman’s dress. But to-night, for some reason or another, he seemed to scrutinize his wife very keenly. His eyes travelled over her frock till they reached the comparatively modest article of jewellery. Then he spoke: “This is not a new dress for the occasion, is it?” Mrs. Morrice answered in a low voice that it was not, that she had worn it once before and that she thought it suited her extremely well. This was a falsehood, for Rosabelle had seen her aunt in it half a dozen times. “I thought I recognized it,” was her uncle’s comment, and the girl thought there was a rather hard inflexion in his voice, as if he were not too well pleased. He touched the necklace lightly with his finger. “This doesn’t seem quite good enough for such a grand occasion. Why didn’t you put on the big birthday one?” He always called it this because it had been one of his birthday presents to her. His wife gave much the same answer that she had given to Rosabelle. She had worn it so often, everybody knew it. She was getting just a little bit tired of it herself, and would give it a rest for a little time.