mind. A token, it may be, of some fair lady's love,--alas, poor lady,
once richest in possessing such a heart! Would you that the jewel be
returned to her?"

"The queen! the queen! It was her Majesty's own gift," replied the
earl, still gazing into the depths of the gem. "She took it from her
finger, and told me, with a smile, that it was an heirloom from her
Tudor ancestors, and had once been the property of Merlin, the British
wizard, who gave it to the lady of his love. His art had made this
diamond the abiding-place of a spirit, which, though of fiendish nature,
was bound to work only good, so long as the ring was an unviolated
pledge of love and faith, both with the giver and receiver. But should
love prove false, and faith be broken, then the evil spirit would work
his own devilish will, until the ring were purified by becoming the
medium of some good and holy act, and again the pledge of faithful love.
The gem soon lost its virtue; for the wizard was murdered by the very
lady to whom he gave it."

"An idle legend!" said the countess.

"It is so," answered Essex, with a melancholy smile. "Yet the queen's
favor, of which this ring was the symbol, has proved my ruin. When
death is nigh, men converse with dreams and shadows. I have been gazing
into the diamond, and fancying--but you will laugh at me--that I might
catch a glimpse of the evil spirit there. Do you observe this red
glow,--dusky, too, amid all the brightness? It is the token of his
presence; and even now, methinks, it grows redder and duskier, like an
angry sunset."

Nevertheless, the earl's manner testified how slight was his credence in