When the song was over Mrs. Moore said to the curate, ’It has been my wish to give dear Violetta a little gift as a slight remembrance of this happy occasion, and I thought that something of my own would be more valuable than——­’ Here the mother’s voice broke with very natural emotion, and she pressed her handkerchief to her eyes.  ’You must excuse me,’ she murmured, ’she is such a dear—­such a very dear girl, and she is our only child.’

‘Indeed, I can well understand,’ said he, with earnest sympathy.

‘Such a dear—­such a very dear girl,’ murmured Mrs. Moore again.  Then she rose and embraced Violetta and wept, and the aunts all shed tears, and the vicar coughed.  Violetta’s own blue eyes over-flowed with very pretty tears.

The curate felt very uncomfortable indeed, and said again that he quite understood, and that it was quite natural.  The dean and the barrister both said what they ought.  The dean remarked that these dear parents ought not to sorrow at losing a daughter, but rejoice at finding a son.  The barrister pointed out that as the bride was only expected to move into the next house but one after her marriage, all talk of parting was really quite absurd.  The vicar did not say anything; he rarely did when his wife was present.  Then Mrs. Moore became more composed, and put a ring on her daughter’s finger.  The curate did not see the ring at the moment.  He was leaning against the mantel-shelf, feeling very much overcome by the responsibility of his new happiness.

‘Oh, mamma, how lovely!’ cried Violetta.  ‘How perfectly beautiful!’

‘A star-amethyst!’ said the barrister in a tone of surprise.

‘Is it a star-amethyst indeed?’ said the dean, looking over the shoulders of the group with his double eye-glass.  ’I am not aware that I ever saw one before; they are a very rare and beautiful sort of gem.’

‘Where did you get it, sister Matilda?’ asked the maiden aunt.

Now, although Mrs. Moore was in a most gracious humour, she never liked being asked questions at any time.  ’I am surprised that you should ask me that, Eliza.  I have had it for many years.’

‘But you must have got it somewhere at the beginning of the years,’ persisted Eliza, who was of a more lively disposition.

Mrs. Moore gave her a severe glance for the frivolous tone of her answer.  ’I was just about to explain that this stone has been lying for years among the jewellery which poor uncle Ford bequeathed to me.  I thought it a pity that such a beautiful stone should lie unnoticed any longer.’

‘Oh, a great pity!’ they all cried.

’I should not have supposed that poor dear uncle Ford possessed such a rare thing,’ said the wife of the dean.

‘It is very curious you never mentioned it before,’ said Eliza.

But Eliza was not in favour.

‘Not at all,’ said Mrs. Moore; ’I take very little interest in such things.  Life is too short to allow our attention to be diverted from serious things by mere ornaments.’