wait, for her greeting was unusually cordial, and she
seemed lovelier than ever in her pretty dress of dark gray trimmed with
black. It was made very high at the throat, and fitted her perfect form
like a glove. Her face was like a flawless pearl, and he had begun to
think the soft ruddy rings that crowned her milk-white brow and made her
look so youthful, the most beautiful hair in the world.

He sprang to his feet, his face all aglow, and went forward to take the
hand she extended to him.

"I have such good news for you, Mrs. Bently," he said, as he drew the
little box from his pocket. "Your gems are real after all," and he
slipped them into her hand as he spoke.

She lifted a startled, incredulous look to his face.

"You cannot mean it--you are only jesting!" she cried.

"Indeed no; I would not jest and I do mean just what I have said," he
persisted.

"Impossible! Why, Mr. Cutler, I gave less than ten dollars for the
crescents."

The young man looked blank.

"Then some one has made an expensive blunder, and set real diamonds for
you instead of paste. Where did you purchase them--or order them made?"

"Of Hardowin & Leroux, under the Palais Royal, Paris, less than a year
ago," Mrs. Bently promptly responded.

"It does not seem possible that any one could have made such a costly
mistake," Justin Cutler said, looking perplexed. "It is almost
incredible."

"Yes, and I am just as astonished by your report," his companion said,
lifting the cover of the box and gazing upon the blazing stones. "They do
look wonderfully real," she added, "and yet I can hardly believe, Mr.
Cutler, that any one would be willing to purchase them and give me the
value of diamonds."

"But the gentleman to whom I submitted them--a jeweler and an
expert--made me an offer for them," and he named the sum.

"So much?" murmured the fair woman, flushing. "Ah, it would be such a
help."

"This offer," Mr. Cutler resumed, "is to remain open to you for three
days, and you can take them to him within that time if you see fit, and
Mr. Arnold will give you the money."

Mrs. Bently made a sudden gesture of repulsion, her head drooped, a flush
swept up to her brow, and tears rushed to her eyes.

"Poor little woman!" said Justin Cutler to himself, "it humiliates her to
think of selling her jewels--of course it must."

Then he asked, after a moment of thought:

"Would you accept the amount that Mr. Arnold offered?"

"Why, yes, if--if you ar