“I--I do not love you,” she answered, almost in a whisper. “Now, will you give it back?” “No,” I said. I saw her tears. “He will kill you;” and she left me, sobbing. “Then, you can take it,” I called out, after her. Man can be brutal at such times. Mrs. Pennoyer came back and tried to move me. Who could, after Jeanie Bruce had failed? Moreover, I thought she thought she would have done like me. I fear Jeanie cried most of that journey home. But I, as is the way of man, was happy. We got back to Knoxville in the early morning. They did not wish me to go home with them from the station; so I put them in a carriage, and sat upon the box. We drove up to the piazza of the little house upon which sat a man in a black frock-coat, smoking a cigar. He threw it away, and took off his hat to the ladies. We both assisted them out; and Jeanie ran quickly into the house, Mrs. Judge Pennoyer following. I paid the carriage, and it drove away. “Now, sir,” said Mr. Kirk Bruce. “Now, sir,” said I. “I will request you, sir, for to give me that ring that is on your finger.” “That ring does not belong to me.” “That is why, sir, I ask you as a gentleman, fo’ to give it up.” “That is why, sir, I am compelled as a gentleman, fo’ to refuse.” Insults to one’s diction come next to those that touch the heart. Mr. Bruce had me, forthwith, “covered” with his revolver. “Are you engaged to Miss Jeanie Bruce?” “I am not.” “Then, sir, as a gentleman, you have no right to wear that ring.” I had heard vague stories of firing through one’s coat pocket; and I felt in mine for the little revolver Jeanie had given me. But the miserable little toy was turned the wrong way, and I could not twist it about. “He is engaged to me--he is,” cried Jeanie, bursting out from the front door. “He asked me on the train.” “And you refused me,” I said, turning my eyes for one moment away from Bruce to look at her. “I did not--I only----” How it happened, I do not know; but at that instant the confounded revolver went off in my pocket. With a cry, Jeanie threw up her arms and fell upon the floor of the piazza. Bruce and I were at her feet instantly. Mrs. Pennoyer rushed out. The neighbors rushed across from over the way. “Is she killed?” said Bruce and I, together. As we spoke Jeanie made a dart, and picking up Bruce’s revolver, which he had dropped upon the grass, threw it over a high board fence into the neighboring lot. Then turning, “Give me your ring,” said she. I gave it to her. “And now,” she said, replacing it on another finger, “Cousin Kirk, let me introduce to you the gentleman to whom I am to be married--Mr. Higginbotham, of Boston.” “Salem,” I corrected, in a dazed way. “Of Salem. Cousin Kirk--congratulate him.” Cousin Kirk looked at her, at me, and at the board fence. “As a gentleman, sir, I have no other thing to do. Of course--if my cousin loves you--you may keep the ring. Though I must allow, sir, you shoot rather late.”