This subject naturally brought to discussion a home in New York, and the judge said, “As the Government House is on the point of being pulled down, I shall buy a lot on the south of the Bowling Green and build a handsome dwelling on it for Sapphira. Like you, Leonard, I have faith in land. When this part of the city ceases to be socially desirable it will become commercially valuable; and commerce pays good rentage.” It was near midnight when all subjects growing out of this sudden change of intentions had been discussed; and the days that followed were days of hurry and happiness. But every one entered so heartily into the joyful girl’s marriage that nothing was belated or neglected, and on the evening before the desired day there was time for all to sit down and arrange the final ceremonies. It was then that Leonard put into Sappha’s hand, as he bid her good-night, the beauteous gift which is yet worn by her great-granddaughter. With a kiss and a blessing he put it into her hand, and she took it into the lighted parlour to examine. It was addressed only “_To Sapphira, Sapphires_,” and when the cover of the box was removed she discovered a necklace of those exquisite Asteria sapphires which have in the centre of their heavenly blue opalescence a star of six rays. The judge had already seen them. He said Leonard had bought them from a Creole jeweller in New Orleans, and that they had once belonged to a beautiful princess of Ceylon. But whatever their history, never had they clasped the throat of a lovelier woman than Sapphira Bloommaert on the day of her wedding. The little company invited were gathered in the ordinary sitting-room of her father’s house, but the June sunshine flooded gloriously the homelike place; and Annette, who had been freely forgiven, had made it a bower of white roses. On the hearthstone stood the domine, and the bride’s mother and grandmother were on either side of him. Mr. and Mrs. Livingston, Mr. and Mrs. Morris, Annette and Achille, Peter and his betrothed, Josette Genaud, were the witnesses. It was on her father’s arm the lovely Sapphira entered. Every one instinctively felt her approach; conversation ceased, laughter was hushed, all were at pleased attention when they heard the light footsteps and the gentle rustling of the silk wedding gown. A kind of radiance came in with her; came from her tall bright beauty, from the glow in her eyes, from her fresh, sweet face, from the warm lights about her shining hair, and the scintillating glory of the gems around her white neck. In her hand she held a perfect white rose, and either of design or by some fortunate accident she stood exactly on the spot where she had parted from Leonard with the rejected, scattered rose between them. But true love knows not rejection; from the ends of the earth it returns to its own; it cannot retain a memory of offence for ever and ever; it not only gives, but forgives.