dear Mrs. Berry! forgive me! If I parted with my ring I know it would be
fatal."

So this fair young freebooter took possession of her argument as well as
her ring.

Berry racked her distracted wits for a further appeal.

"But, my child," she counter-argued, "you don't understand. It ain't as
you think. It ain't a hurt to you now. Not a bit, it ain't. It makes
no difference now! Any ring does while the wearer's a maid. And your
Mr. Richard will find the very ring he intended for ye. And, of course,
that's the one you'll wear as his wife. It's all the same now, my dear.
It's no shame to a maid. Now do--now do--there's a darlin'!"

Wheedling availed as little as argument.

"Mrs. Berry," said Lucy, "you know what my--he spoke: 'With this ring I
thee wed.' It was with this ring. Then how could it be with another?"

Berry was constrained despondently to acknowledge that was logic.

She hit upon an artful conjecture:

"Won't it be unlucky your wearin' of the ring which served me so? Think
o' that!"

"It may! it may! it may!" cried Lucy.

"And arn't you rushin' into it, my dear?"