Lorna hoped that he wanted to bless us; but he only frowned at that, and let his hand drop downward, and crooked one knotted finger.
'He wants something out of the bed, dear,' Lorna whispered to me; 'see what it is, upon your side, there.' I followed the bent of his poor shrunken hand, and sought among the pilings; and there I felt something hard and sharp, and drew it forth and gave it to him.

It flashed, like the spray of a fountain upon us, in the dark winter of the room.

He could not take it in his hand, but let it hang, as daisies do; only making Lorna see that he meant her to have it.
'Why, it is my glass necklace!' Lorna cried, in great surprise; 'my necklace he always promised me; and from which you have got the ring, John.

But grandfather kept it, because the children wanted to pull it from my neck.

May I have it now, dear grandfather?
Not unless you wish, dear.' Darling Lorna wept again, because the old man could not tell her (except by one very feeble nod) that she was doing what he wished.