Afterward, she went out, as naturally as a flower turns toward the sun.  It was a part of the magic beauty of the world that she should meet Ralph, just outside the gate, with a face as radiant as her own.

“I was coming,” he said, after the first rapture had somewhat subsided, “to tell Aunt Hitty.”

“I told her,” returned the girl, proudly, “all by my own self!”

“You don’t mean it!  What did she say?”

“She said everything.  She told me hell was yawning at my feet, but I’m sure it’s Heaven.  She said that she was my father and mother rolled into one, and I was obliged to remind her that I was of age.  You thought of that,” she said, admiringly.  “I didn’t even know that I’d ever get old enough not to mind anybody but myself—­or you.”

“You won’t have to ‘mind’ me,” laughed Ralph.  “I’ll give you a long rope.”

“What would I do with a rope?” queried Araminta, seriously.

“You funny, funny girl!  Didn’t you ever see a cow staked out in a pasture?”

“Yes.  Am I a cow?”

“For the purposes of illustration, yes, and Aunt Hitty represents the stake.  For eighteen or nineteen years, your rope has been so short that you could hardly move at all.  Now things are changed, and I represent the stake.  You’ve got the longest rope, now, that was ever made in one piece.  See?”

“I’ll come back,” answered Araminta, seriously.  “I don’t think I need any rope at all.”

“No, dear, I know that.  I was only joking.  You poor child, you’ve lived so long with that old dragon that you scarcely recognise a joke when you see one.  A sense of humour, Araminta, is a saving grace for anybody.  Next to Love, it’s the finest gift of the gods.”

“Have I got it?”

“I guess so.  I think it’s asleep, but we’ll wake it up.  Look here, dear—­see what I brought you.”

From his pocket, Ralph took a small purple velvet case, lined with white satin.  Within was a ring, set with a diamond, small in circumference, but deep, and of unusual brilliancy.  By a singular coincidence, it fitted Araminta’s third finger exactly.

“Oh-h!” she cried, her cheeks glowing.  “For me?”

“Yes, for you—­till I get you another one.  This was my mother’s ring, sweetheart.  I found it among my father’s things.  Will you wear it, for her sake and for mine?”

“I’ll wear it always,” answered Araminta, her great grey eyes on his, “and I don’t want any other ring.  Why, if it hadn’t been for her, I never could have had you.”

Ralph took her into his arms.  His heart was filled with that supreme love which has no need of words.

Meanwhile Miss Mehitable was having her bad quarter of an hour.  Man-like, Thorpe had taken himself away from a spot where he felt there was about to be a display of emotion.  She was in the house alone, and the acute stillness of it seemed an accurate foreshadowing of the future.