“I am glad. I suppose, however, that a diamond would have been the proper thing, since, being the most precious stone, it perhaps more fitly represents the most precious gift a man can receive; but to me this pure hearted pearl is a more appropriate symbol of the love I have won than the cold glitter of diamonds. My darling, this small hand belongs to me now.” “Yes, Earle, it is all your own,” Editha answered, now raising her eyes, which were full of tender tears, to his. Then, with a movement graceful as it was involuntary, she lifted her hand and touched her lips to the pure, gleaming pearl. Earle’s look spoke volumes as he noted the act, and brought the ever-ready blushes quickly to the fair face again. Editha smiled, and, to cover her confusion, said, archly: “It is well, is it not, to yield _gracefully_ to the bonds that bind one?” “My love—my love!” Earle answered, with a look of tender affection, “you never can know how precious you are to me. I wish—oh, how I wish I could take you with me; but I must go now.” With no other farewell than one long, long hand-clasp, one fond, lingering glance—for other eyes were upon them—he was gone, mingling with the crowd, and so passed from her sight. That night, when Sumner Dalton saw the pale gleam of that pure pearl upon Editha’s finger, a sinister look crept into his eyes and curved the corners of his mouth, though he gave no other sign that he had seen it. “Do they think to defy me thus?” he muttered to himself, when he was alone again. “Let them beware, _both_ of them. I will not brook such opposition to my will. If it were not for the very convenient purse of little Miss Independence, I would crush her now, before this thing goes any further. What can the youngster have gone to Europe for? It cannot be that——” Sumner Dalton seemed to be smitten with some sudden and startling thought that made him grow very pale and troubled. “No, no,” he went on, after thinking awhile, “it is as utterly _impossible_ as that the sun should cease to shine.” CHAPTER XVII EDITHA BESTOWS CHARITY The time, for the first week or two after Earle’s departure, dragged heavily to Editha, and then, with her usual good sense, she resolved to fill up the months of his absence with work—the very best antidote in the world for all life’s weariness and ills. Consequently, she set herself a daily task in music and in perfecting herself in the languages of German and French, and after that time flew as if on magic wings. Twice every week she wrote to Earle, and twice every week she heard from him. And such letters as they were, too! Full of such deep, strong, abiding devotion as only such men as he are capable of feeling and expressing.