'Oh, George!' cried Mab, looking in ecstasy at the ring he had slipped on her finger, 'what a lovely, lovely ring, and what a queer one!--three turquoise stones set in a braid of silver. I never saw so unique a pattern.' 'I daresay not. It's not the kind of ring you'll come across every day, and precious hard work I had to get it.' 'Did you buy it in Beorminster?' asked Miss Arden, putting her head on one side to admire the peculiar setting of the blue stones. 'No; I bought it from Mother Jael.' 'From Mother Jael!--that old gipsy fortune-teller?' 'Precisely; from that very identical old Witch of Endor. I saw it on her lean paw when I was last in Beorminster, and she came hovering round to tell my fortune. The queer look of it took my fancy, and I determined to secure it for our engagement ring. However, the old lady wasn't to be bribed into parting with it, but last night I rode out to the camp on Southberry Common and succeeded in getting it off her. She is a regular Jew at a bargain, and haggled for an hour before she would let me have it. Ultimately I gave her the price she asked, and there it is on your pretty hand.' 'How sweet of you, George, to take so much trouble! I shall value the ring greatly for your sake.' 'And for your own too, I hope. It is a lucky ring, and came from the East, Mother Jael said, in the old, old days. It looks rather Egyptian, so perhaps Cleopatra wore it when she went to meet Anthony!' 'Such nonsense! but it is a dear, lovely ring, and I'll wear it always.' 'I think I deserve a kiss from you for my trouble,' said George, drawing her lovely, glowing face towards him. 'There, darling; the next ring I place on your finger will be a plain golden one, not from the East, but from an honest Beorminster jeweller.' 'But, George'--Mab laid her head on his breast--'I am not sure if I ought to accept it, really. Your father does not know of our engagement.' 'I intend to tell him when I next visit Beorminster, my love. Indeed, but that he takes this wretched murder so much to heart I would have told him to-day. Still, you need not scruple to wear it, dearest, for your aunt and my mother are both agreed that you will make me the sweetest of wives.' 'Aunty is always urging me to ask you to tell your father.' 'Then you can inform her that I'll do so next--why, here _is_ your aunt, my dear.' 'Aunty!' cried Mab, as Miss Whichello, like a little white ghost, moved into the room. 'I thought your head was so bad.' 'It is better now, my dear,' replied the old lady, who really looked very ill. 'How do you do, Captain Pendle?' 'Hadn't you better call me George, Miss Whichello?' 'No, I hadn't, my dear man; at least, not until your engagement with Mab is an accomplished fact.' 'But it is an accomplished fact now, aunty,' said Mab, showing the ring. 'Here is the visible sign of our engagement.' 'A strange ring, but very charming,' pronounced Miss Whichello, examining the jewel. 'But does the bishop know?'