As Alison's delicate fingers were adjusting some parts of the lace, the sharp eyes of Miss De Jobbyns observed--as they had often done before--the ring, the engagement ring, which the former had received from her lover, under the whispering beeches, one evening. 'It is very beautiful, and must be valuable,' said Miss De Jobbyns, examining it closely. 'It is valuable.' 'Too much so, I think, for--for one teaching to wear.' 'When it was given to me, teaching was not thought of,' said Alison, in a low, sad voice. 'I have no end of lovely rings; but,' urged the girl, who was by nature covetous, 'you might lend it to me, just for to-night, though you wouldn't lend that funny ornament for the Le Robbynson's ball.' 'Excuse me,' replied Alison, coldly, 'it never leaves my finger.' 'Not even when you wash your hands?' 'Not even then.' 'You will spoil these beautiful stones.' 'It shall never be seen on another hand while I live.' 'Indeed,' sneered Miss De Jobbyns; 'and thereby hangs a tale, I suppose. Upon my Sam you are very romantic! Of course you got it from the fellow whose photo you wear, but will let no one see?' Alison made no reply, but her colour came and went with annoyance at the girl's brusquerie; and the latter began to chant the praises of her admirer, a subject of which her listener was utterly weary. 'He has we don't know how many thousands a year--think of that; oh my! Talking of love, I heard him say laughingly to mamma, who was chaffing him on the subject, that he would not be in love with anyone again.' 'And what of that?' 'He meant, of course, with anyone again but me.' 'How do you construe his remark thus?' 'Because his eyes met mine as he said so; and I do hope I blushed--I am sure I did.' 'And he is rich, you say?' 'Yes, rich enough to satisfy even mamma.' 'That is fortunate,' replied Alison, with a sigh, as she recalled her father's bitter opposition to her own engagement, and all the wiles and worry of Cadbury. 'Fortunate indeed; but there is about Bevil----' 'BEVIL!' exclaimed Alison, startled by the uncommon name. 'Don't snap me up so! Yes, Bevil is his name--sweetly pretty I think it--Bevil Goring.' 'And he is rich, you say?' 'Yes; has twenty or thirty thousand a year at least.' It cannot be the same, though the conjunction of name is very singular, said Alison in her agitated heart. 'Is he a merchant,' she asked, 'a city man?' 'City be hanged!' responded this impulsive young woman. 'He is an officer--a Captain in the Rifle Brigade, and, when not in town, hangs out at Aldershot. But there is a carriage; the people are arriving, and I must be off.' She quickly withdrew, leaving Alison pale as a corpse, trembling in every limb, and rooted to the spot, propping herself by a hand on the table, till she sank into a chair, oblivious of the wonder with which the two little girls regarded her sudden, and, to them, unaccountable emotion.