"It _is_ a present, for this means you travelled third-class, and stayed at cheap hotels, and went without your lunches--or you couldn't have bought it. You had only enough money for the trip we originally planned, without those six weeks in Italy. I'll wear _this_ piece of jewelry--and it will represent what _you've_ been to _me_, in my mind. Will you put it on yourself?" She held it towards him, bending forward, her head down. It seemed to Austin that her loveliness was like the fragrance of a flower. Involuntarily, the hands which clasped the little chain around her white throat, touching the warm, soft skin, fell to her shoulders, and drew her closer. The swift and terrible change that went over Sylvia's face sent a thrust of horror through him. She shut her eyes, and shrank away, trembling all over, her face grown ashy white. Instantly he realized that the gesture must have replied to her some ghastly experience in the past; that perhaps she had more than once been tricked into an embrace by a gift; that a man's love had meant but one thing to her, and that she now thought herself face to face with that thing again, from one whom she had helped and trusted. For an instant the grief with which this realization filled him, the fresh compassion for all she had suffered, the renewed love for all her goodness, were too much for him. He tried to speak, to take away his hands, to leave her. He seemed to be powerless. Then, blessedly, the realization of what he should do came to him. "Open your eyes, Sylvia," he commanded. Too startled to disobey, she did so. He looked into them for a full minute, smiling, and shook his head. "You did not understand, dear lady," he said. And dropping on his knees before her, he took her hands, laid them against his cheek for a minute, touched them with his lips, and left her. CHAPTER IX Uncle Mat made a determined effort to persuade Sylvia to return to New York with him; and though he was not successful, he was not altogether discouraged by her reply. "I _have_ been thinking of it," she said, "but I promised Mrs. Gray I'd stay here through the winter, and she'd be hurt and disappointed now if I didn't; besides, I don't feel quite ready for New York myself yet. I realize that I've remained--nearly long enough--and as soon as the warm weather comes, I'm going to have my own little house remodelled and put in order, and move there for the summer. It'll be such fun--just like doll's housekeeping! Then in the fall--I wont promise--but perhaps if you still want me, I'll come to you, at least until I decide what to do next." "Come now for a visit, if you won't for the rest of the winter." "Not yet; by spring I'm afraid I'll have to have some new clothes--I've had nothing since I came here except a fur coat, which arrived by parcel post! Sally wants to go away in the Easter vacation, and if you can squeeze us both into your little guest-room, perhaps we'll come together then."