Meantime Mary ran home to her father to show her new dress. The good old man, while pleased at his daughter's pleasure, could not help feeling a little anxiety when he saw the present. "I would much rather, my child," he said, "that you had not taken the basket to the young Countess, but it cannot be helped now. I fear that this valuable present will but rouse the jealousy of some of our neighbours, and, what would be still worse, that it may make you vain. Take care, my dear Mary, that you fall not into this great evil. No costly and beautiful garments so much adorn a young girl as modesty and good manners. It is the Bible that says the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit is in the sight of God of great price." CHAPTER III. THE MISSING RING. Shortly after Mary had left the Castle the Countess missed a valuable diamond ring. No one had been in the room where she had left it but Mary, and it is not surprising that suspicion fell upon the humble flower-girl. Calling Amelia to her, the Countess told her of her loss and of her suspicions, and bade her go to the cottage in order that she might induce Mary to restore the ring before the theft became known. When Amelia arrived at Mary's home, the young girl was busily engaged trying on her beautiful dress. She was frightened to see the young Countess enter her little room, pale and trembling, and out of breath with her haste. "Dear Mary," said Amelia, "what have you been doing? My mother's diamond ring, which she left lying in the room where you were, is lost. No one has been in the chamber but you. Do give it up at once, and no harm will be done." The unexpected charge of theft stunned and frightened Mary. Earnestly she declared her innocence. She had never seen the ring, nor had she moved from the place where she stood when she entered the room. But Amelia found it impossible to believe her, and continued to urge her to give up the ring, which she said was worth a large sum of money. To be suspected of theft was bad enough, but to have her friend Amelia unwilling to believe her, made Mary burst into tears. "Truly," she cried, "I have no ring. Never in all my life have I ventured to touch anything which did not belong to me, much less to steal. My dear father has always taught me better." Her father, who had been at work in his garden, now came in to learn the young Countess's errand, and to him Amelia told the story. Shocked beyond measure at the charge, the old man was so overcome that he was obliged to sink into a chair.