That was just it; he did not understand! Celia sighed. Already there existed the little rift within the lute. She was beginning to find out that, although at first he had professed to be so entirely in sympathy with her, there was something in their two natures which did not altogether harmonize. Either he was too superficial for her, or else she was too serious for him: she was not sure which. But David thought they had wandered too far away from the subject of the nugget. “You wouldn’t refuse me the first little favour I have ever asked you, would you, darling?” he said, striving to introduce a tender inflection into his voice. “Why, Celia, if you were to ask me for everything I possessed, I would give it you without a moment’s hesitation.” She rose from the piano, and regarded her ring contemplatively. “Do you want the nugget so much as all that, David? Well, you shall have it. I don’t want you to think me selfish or unkind. I dare say Herbert will advance me the money I have promised to Mr. Wilton’s fund--he wouldn’t like me to break a promise, I know. Remind me to ask Mr. Friedberg for it to-night, and I will give it to you then.” He took her in his arms, and thanked her effusively. It was a weight off his mind. Within a week the nugget was in pawn at Ikey Benjamin’s shop. David would not sell it outright at present, in case Celia should ask to see it at any time; but his cousin had given him sufficient money to pay for the ring, and with that he had perforce to be content. He considered that he had managed the affair very smartly. It is not every man who can get his _fiancée_ to pay for her own ring. CHAPTER XI UNDER THE MISTLETOE The cheerless winter afternoon was drawing to a close, as, muffled up in furs, and escorted by a Dandy Dinmont terrier, Celia hastened up the Durlston High Road. The sky was heavy with leaden clouds of snow; the cold wind blew in sharp gusts across the moor, making her ears tingle and her cheeks glow. She had been visiting some of the wives of Herbert Karne’s _protégés_, and they had given her such a homely welcome that she had spent a most enjoyable afternoon. It happened to be Friday, the eve of the Sabbath, and she had watched them prepare the fried fish and raisin wine which were the necessary adjuncts of their Sabbath meal. Her presence did not disturb them in the least, for she was unassuming and never in the way, and she had received more than one invitation to stay and partake of their frugal fare. There was no false pride about these people; they were poor, but exceedingly hospitable, and they would always offer you the best they had to give. As Celia turned into the private road leading to the Towers, she became aware of a form leaning against the hedge which skirted the foot-path. Dandy sniffed, and growled ominously--he had no sympathy with tramps; and as the girl paused irresolute, a woman emerged from amongst the deepening shadows.