"Murray! You are quite as bad as Jane! To be sure, her girlish way of dressing has been very pretty and appropriate in view of her father’s lack of means. But her position now, as your wife, is different. Olive insists that Jane does not care for ornaments of any sort, but I am sure she would not object, Murray, to wearing that beautiful pearl necklace of Grandmother Townsend’s--if you explain to her that it’s an heirloom and that it will give me great pleasure to have her wear it? Pearls are not becoming to Olive," added Mrs. Townsend, and her son smiled. "If you want Jane to wear that, mother, you will have to ask her yourself. She ’s coming now, I think. Yes"--as Jane looked over the gallery rail and nodded down at him--"here she is. Do you really think she needs ’ornaments’? They strike me as superfluous." Mother and son were watching Jane as she came down the staircase, her white figure outlined against the dark green of the palms and foliage. Her bronze-tinted hair shone like a crown under the radiance of the lights, and her softly blooming face made one forget the simplicity of her attire. At least, it made Murray forget it. But Mrs. Harrison Townsend saw in the white neck and arms a background for her pearls. She picked up a case from the table where she had laid it. "My dear," she said, "you are very sweet, and I shall be very proud to present you as my daughter. And you won’t mind wearing, to please me, these pearls of Murray’s great-grandmother’s, will you? They are just what you need to set off your colouring." Jane’s face grew warm as her eyes fell upon the pearls, lying in a worn old case lined with faded green velvet. She looked from them to Murray--an appealing little glance and a questioning one. He nodded ever so slightly in return, smiling at her. "You are very kind," said Jane, simply, to her mother-in-law. "I will wear them--if you wish." She let Mrs. Townsend clasp the necklace, received that lady’s kiss and approving comment on the difference it made in her appearance, and allowed herself to be led to a mirror to see the effect. As she stood before it, her lashes falling after one glance of a pair of unwilling eyes, somebody called Murray’s mother away. Jane looked at her husband again. "Yes, I know you hate it, little modesty," said he. "And I own I like to see you without any jewels. Yet there can be no doubt you become those pearls. You set them off, not they you. And seeing they ’re not diamonds----" Jane’s eyes flashed. "Not even for you----" His eyes responded with an answering brilliance, as he shook his head, laughing. "Not even for me! Are you sure? But you need n’t fear. Diamonds, little Jane Townsend, were not made for you. Let those sparkle who want to. I prefer a steady glow!"