"There! _Now_ I hope that she will forget all about him ... she will think that she has mislaid the ring ... I had a hard time to get hold of it. I hope that it will never come to life again any more than him ... let them both lay there together. You lying pup, you!" she cried, shaking her trembling old fist at the grave. "You _lay_ there and don't you ever try to come near my dear young Lady again! The _idea_ of an ignorant thing like you ever daring to come near her, anyway. I wouldn't be so darned mad at you," she ended, "for you were a mighty good-looking fellow and any woman might have been proud of your appearance, once she could overlook your dark skin, but you even fooled _me_, doggone you! You _lay_ there, now, and never do you dare to try to fool any more women ... three of us is enough in _this_ neighborhood, anyway." She drew a long sigh of relief after this speech and hurried out of the cemetery with her empty basket; she had slipped away when she thought no one was observing her and intended to tell Ruth after her return what she had done with the exception of any reference to the ring which, as the reader may have guessed, was the wedding ring that Ruth had, up to this time, kept always on her left hand or in her jewel-case on her little dressing-table before which she always sat when she combed and brushed her long and beautifully luxuriant brown hair; she had taken the ring off the night before, little dreaming that she was touching it for the last time, and sadly laid it among her jewels, thinking of the bright face and laughing dark eyes that had looked so handsome to her when he had put that little ring upon her finger, whispering of his undying love and of the fact that she and she alone was, and had been since his first meeting with her, the entire mistress of his hither-to untouched heart; she had even shed a few tears over the little ring, then, and old Mage, silently witnessing this fact, determined that she should never again have that opportunity; so, after Ruth was sweetly sleeping, the old woman slipped into her room and removed the object of her scorn; she lay awake almost all of that night, planning how to secrete or do away with the visible bond that had united her dear young Lady to an unworthy mate; at length, toward daylight, it seemed to old Mage as if someone had whispered to her what to do with the ring so that poetic justice would be done to the first youthful passion of Ruth Wakefield's innocent life; acting upon this suggestion, for so it seemed to her, feeling sure that she had solved the problem so nearly affecting the life of the one she loved best in all her world, she carried out the plan she instantly formed, and, while she was a very weary old woman, from lack of sleep and unusual exercise, when she again reached her much-loved home, she had within her spirit a sense of satisfaction that was beyond anything she had felt since Ruth had married the man whose