would remember this locket and sell it, as he did all my other jewels. It
was hard enough parting with some of them; but I did not care so much so
long as I kept this one, for I promised Lucy that morning that I would
_never_, _never_ part with it.'

'It is pretty, mammie dear,' said Rosalie.

'Yes, child; it will be yours some day, when I die; remember, it is for
you; but you must never let it be sold or pawned, Rosalie, I couldn't bear
to think it ever would be. And now we'll put it back again, it won't be
safe here; your father might come in any minute.'

'Here's one more parcel, mammie.'

'Yes, keep that out, dear; that's your present,' said her mother. 'I can't
give you the locket yet, because I must keep it till I die; but you shall
have the other to-day.'

She took off the paper, and put into Rosalie's hands a small black
Testament. The child opened the book, and read on the fly-leaf, 'Mrs.
Augustus Joyce. From her friend Mrs. Bernard, in remembrance of little
Arthur, and with the prayer that she may meet her child in heaven.'

'I promised her that I would read it, Rosalie; but I haven't,' said the
poor woman. 'I read a few verses the first week she gave it to me, but I've
never read it since. I wish I had--oh, I _do_ wish I had!'

'Let me read it to you, mammie dear.'

'That's what I got it out for, darling; you might read a bit of it to me