“Really, Mr. Gordon, this _is_ a surprise. I had no idea, I am sure, that Miss Burton was your cousin; really, I am surprised. And she came near being _my_ cousin, too. You must know about Archie?” “Yes,” and Tom bowed stiffly. “I had the honor of seeing him years ago when he visited my cousin. I went out to India just before he died.” “Yes, I see; and did not return until a few days since. It must have shocked you very much—the change in her circumstances. Poor girl, we never knew it until she came to us for employment. I am glad for her, that you have come to care for her. She will live with you, of course, if you marry and settle here.” Lady Darinda, though esteeming herself highly bred, was much given to direct questioning which sometimes seemed impertinent. But Tom did not resent it in this case; he merely replied: “My cousin will live with me when I am married, and I am happy to say she has no further need to look for employment of any kind. I shall take care of her.” Lady Darinda was so glad. Nor was it a sham gladness. The intimate friend of Miss Lucy Elliston, she had heard much of “the Mr. Gordon who had saved Charlie’s life, and who was of the Gordon stock, and a thorough gentleman.” She had also felt a kindly interest in the girl who had _almost_ been Lady Cleaver, and that interest was increased when she knew her to be a near connection of Miss Elliston’s Mr. Gordon. The time might come when it would do to speak of her and possibly present her to her friends, and she made many anxious inquiries concerning her, and talked so rapidly and so loud that the head on the pillow moved as if disturbed, and Tom was glad when the lady at last gathered herself up to leave. She was still nervously rubbing her jeweled hands, and Tom’s attention was attracted to a solitaire of great brilliancy, the same I had observed the day I sat in her reception-room, and she stood talking to me and rubbing her hands just as she was rubbing them now. Suddenly, and as if her mind was made up, she drew off the ring, and bending over the sick girl pushed it upon the fourth finger of the left hand, saying to Tom as she did so: “The ring is hers, and she ought never to have parted with it. I don’t know why she sent it back to us, but she did, just after Archie died, and as his cousin I kept it, but wish her to have it again, and I fancy she is too proud to take it if she knew. I must go, now, but will come again soon, or send to inquire. Shall I see you at Miss Elliston’s to-night at the musicale? Lucy will be greatly disappointed, if you do not come.” “I shall not leave my cousin while she is so sick,” was Tom’s reply, and with a loud spoken good-by, Lady Darinda left the little room which she had seemed to fill so full with her large, tall person and voluminous skirts.