“Eleven shillings!” repeated the auctioneer, glancing at the first bidder, a coarse-looking man, and the only one who seemed disposed to bid against the young woman.

“Twelve shillings,” said the man resolutely.

A paleness went over the face of the other bidder, and a quick tremor passed through her frame.

“Twelve shillings is bid.  Twelve shillings is bid.  Twelve shillings!” And the auctioneer now looked towards the young woman who, in a faint voice, said—­

“Thirteen shillings.”

By this time the merchant began to understand the meaning of what was passing before him.  The miniature was that of a middle-aged lady; and it required no great strength of imagination to determine that the original was the mother of the young woman who seemed so anxious to possess the locket.

“But how came it here?” was the involuntary suggestion to the mind of Mr. Edwards.  “Who pawned it?  Did she?”

“Fourteen shillings,” said the man who was bidding, breaking in upon the reflections of Mr. Edwards.

The veil that had been drawn aside, fell instantly over the face of the young woman, and she shrunk back from her prominent position, yet still remained in the room.

“Fourteen shillings is bid.  Fourteen shillings!  Are you all done?  Fourteen shillings for a gold locket and miniature.  Fourteen!  Once!—–­”

The companion of Mr. Edwards glanced towards him with a meaning look.  The merchants for a moment bewildered, found his mind clear again.

“Twice!” screamed the auctioneer.  “Once!  Twice!  Three——­”

“Twenty shillings,” dropped from the lips of Mr. Edwards.

“Twenty shillings!  Twenty shillings!” cried the auctioneer with renewed animation.  The man who had been bidding against the girl turned quickly to see what bold bidder was in the field:  and most of the company turned with him.  The young woman at the same time drew aside her veil and looked anxiously towards Mr. Edwards, who, as he obtained a fuller view of her face, was struck with it as familiar.

“Twenty-one shillings,” was bid in opposition.

“Twenty-five,” said the merchant, promptly.

The first bidder, seeing that Mr. Edwards was determined to run against him, and being a little afraid that he might be left with a ruinous bid on his hands, declined advancing, and the locket was assigned to the young merchant, who, as soon as he had received it, turned and presented it to the young woman, saying as he did so—­

“It is yours.”

The young woman caught hold of it with an eager gesture, and after gazing on it for a few moments, pressed it to her lips.

“I have not the money to pay for it,” she said in a low sad voice, recovering herself in a few moments; and seeking to return the miniature.

“It is yours!” replied Mr. Edwards.  Then thrusting back the hand she had extended, and speaking with some emotion, he said—­“Keep it—­keep it, in Heaven’s name!”