The simple apparel gathered together, she collected the remaining
mementoes of her family,--saved with so much pain and guarded with such
diligence by old Deborah. These were trinkets of gold and ivory, bits
of frail gauzes in which a wondrous perfume lingered, and a scroll of
sheep-skin bearing the records of the house. And after all these had
been found and gathered together, she furtively put the straw aside and
drew forth the collar of golden rings.
With the first glint of light on the red metal, the hope and animation
in her heart went out. What of Kenkenes? No thought came to her now,
but the most unhappy. The obligations which she would have gladly laid
on him had fallen to Atsu. She dared not confess to him her love, and
she could not give him gratitude. He had entered her life like a
bewildering radiance, but it was Atsu who had saved her and emancipated
her and would save her again.
She thrust the collar into her bosom with a sob and went on
mechanically with her preparations. But during one of her movements
the coins clinked musically. She clutched them, and they rang again,
softly. They reproached her, and in that irresistible way,--gently.
They made a sound even as she breathed.
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