Margaret! are you willing to let Mr.Ross see your wrist ?" She threw one swift look of appeal in his eyes; but even as she did so she seemed to make up her mind.

Without a word she raised her right hand, so that the bracelet of spreading wings which covered the wrist fell back, leaving the flesh bare.

Then an icy chill shot through me.
On her wrist was a thin red jagged line, from which seemed to hang red stains like drops of blood! She stood there, a veritable figure of patient pride.
Oh! but she looked proud! Through all her sweetness, all her dignity, all her high-souled negation of self which I had known, and which never seemed more marked than now--through all the fire that seemed to shine from the dark depths of her eyes into my very soul, pride shone conspicuously.

The pride that has faith; the pride that is born of conscious purity; the pride of a veritable queen of Old Time, when to be royal was to be the first and greatest and bravest in all high things.

As we stood thus for some seconds, the deep, grave voice of her father seemed to sound a challenge in my ears: "What do you say now ?" My answer was not in words.