“Why should you call my marriage a matter of necessity?” she demanded.  “Sir Reginald told me that my father had provided for me.”

“Of course, of course, dear.”  Lady Bassett uttered a faint, artificial laugh.  “It is not a question of means at all.  But, there, since you are so childishly unsophisticated, I need not open your eyes.  It is enough for you to know that there is a sufficiently urgent reason for your marriage, and the sooner it can take place, the better.  But in the meantime, let me counsel you to be as prudent as possible in all that you do.  I assure you, dear, it is very necessary.”

Muriel received this little homily in silence.  She did not in the least understand to what these veiled allusions referred, and she decided impatiently that they were unworthy of her serious consideration.  It was ridiculous to let herself be angry with Lady Bassett.  As if it mattered in the least what she said or thought!  She determined to pay her projected visit notwithstanding, and quietly said so, as she turned at length from the table.

Lady Bassett raised no further remonstrance beyond a faint, eloquent lift of the shoulders.  And Muriel went away into the shady compound, her step firmer and her dark head decidedly higher than usual.  She felt for Nick’s gift as she went, with a little secret sensation of pleasure.  After all, why had she been afraid?  All girls wore rings when they became engaged to be married.

Reaching her favourite corner, she drew it forth from its hiding-place, a quiver of excitement running through her.

She was sitting in the hammock under the pines as she unwrapped it.  The hot sunshine, glinting through the dark boughs overhead, flashed upon precious stones and dazzled her as the wisp of tissue-paper fell from her hand.

And in a moment she was looking at an old marquise ring of rubies in a setting of finely-wrought gold.  Her heart gave a throb of sheer delight at the beauty of the thing.  She slipped it impetuously on to her finger, and held it up to the sunlight.

The rubies shone with a deep lustre—­red, red as heart’s blood, ardent as flame.  She gazed and gazed with sparkling, fascinated eyes.

Suddenly his words flashed into her mind.  A message inside it!  She had been so caught by the splendour of the stones that she had not looked inside.  She drew the ring from her finger, and examined it closely, with burning cheeks.

Yes, there was the message—­three words engraved in minute, old-fashioned characters inside the gold band.  They were so tiny that it took her a long time to puzzle them out.  With difficulty at length she deciphered the quaint letters, but even then it was some time before she grasped the meaning that they spelt.

It flashed upon her finally, as though a voice had spoken into her ear.  The words were:  OMNIA VINCIT AMOR.  And the ring in her hand was no longer the outward visible sign of her compact.  It was a love-token, given to her by a man who had spoken no word of love.