In a pretty bijou of a room one evening sat a girl of nineteen, tall and stately, with a comely face and eyes that were lustrous as stars.

Rose Alstine was not a beauty, but she was good at heart, generous to a fault, and beloved by all who knew her.

She was an heiress to wealth that was reputed bordering on a million. Her money prospects, however, in no way marred the goodness of her character. Had she been overly proud she would certainly not have permitted the attentions of the humble engineer, August Bordine.

There was genuine love between them, too, not of the effusive, sickish sort, but that love that enobles and glorifies.

On the evening in question, Rose sat alone gazing thoughtfully at the carpet. There was a troubled look on her countenance, for only that day she had heard bad news. A horse had run away with her lover and flung him so violently against a post as to injure him severely.

In the evening paper she read the account, and now she was debating whether or not it would be unmaidenly for her to call on her lover. In the main Rose was a sensible girl, yet she was seldom known to fly in the face of the proprieties.

August might die!

It was this thought that brought a moisture to the eyes of the heiress, just as Miss Williams, her cousin of uncertain age, entered the room.

"It would certainly never do, Rose, never."

"What is that, Janet?"

"It would never do for you to visit a man. Just think what the gossips would say. As a relative, and one who would not like to see our good name trailed as a garment, I warn you not to think of such a thing as visiting that man Bordine."

Rose regarded the speaker keenly.

Even with a sad feeling tugging at her heart, she could not but understand that it was sour grapes with Janet Williams. She had once tried desperately to win the attention of the young engineer.

"But, Janet, August may be fatally injured," said Rose, after a moment, in a faltering voice.

"Which would not alter the status of the case in the least."

"Are you heartless, Janet?"

"No. But—"

[Illustration: WITH A LITTLE SHRIEK SHE RUSHED INTO HIS OPEN ARMS AND
SEALED HER WELCOME ON HIS LIPS]

A bounding step on the stair cut short the words of Miss Williams. The next instant the door was flung open and a man crossed the threshold, and, hat in hand, confronted the two girls.

His face was somewhat pale, yet his lips were wreathed in a smile. Rose sat for an instant staring at the man as though about to faint, so astonished was she.

Then with a little shriek she rushed into his open arms and sealed her welcome on his lips.

Miss Williams stood dumfounded.

Rose lay sobbing on the breast of her stalwart lover.

"There, Rose, darling, that will do," said the gentleman, leading her to a seat. "Were you not expecting me?"

"No indeed," cried Rose, as she brushed away the tears. "I read of the terrible accident, and my mind was full of forboding."

"Indeed! What a little goose you are, Rose."

"But you might have been killed, you know, and then—"

"Well?"

"And then what would have become of poor me?"

"Sure enough; but I wasn't killed, nor even seriously hurt, my dear, so we will discard such disagreeable thoughts from our minds."

He settled himself on the wide, cushioned couch at her side, and pressed a kiss on her cheek just as Miss Williams swept, with upturned nose, from the room.

"Faugh!" ejaculated the elderly girl, as she closed the door behind her with a bang. "I can't abide such sickly slush as that. Rose is a fool, and that man isn't one whit better."

Then she flounced down the broad stairs and sought relief from her overwrought feelings in smelling-bottle and snuff.

Yes, dear reader, Miss Williams, dear old girl, was given to snuff, and she would soon cross the boundaries to that old maid's paradise where cats and parrots abounded.

With her it was indeed the sourest of sour grapes.

And Rose?

She felt that this was the happiest moment of her life, as she nestled against her lover's breast and realized that no harm had come to him after all.

"It was wholly a false report, August, but it made me miserable for some hours."

"Not wholly false," he said, as he toyed with a diamond ring that glittered on her finger. "I was thrown out and injured, but not very badly. I came here just as soon after the accident as possible to alleviate your fears."

"Oh, how good you are."

"This ring," he said, seeming to wish to avoid the subject of the accident. "A genuine diamond, is it not?"

"Certainly. Have you forgotten—"

"That it was my own gift. No, darling, but I believe I have forgotten the cost," he said, quickly.

She stared at him in astonishment.

Then she burst into a laugh.

"How absent-minded you have become," she declared. "I fear that accident injured your brain, August."

"It's barely possible," he said, forcing a laugh.

"Why, you goose, you know that ring was a present from papa on my last birthday, and he said it was worth a good thousand. How could you forget?"

"Surely, how could I?" he returned, with a glittering eye. "I—I don't feel just right, that's a fact."

"And it may have been very imprudent for you to come out so soon after your fall," evincing anxiety.

"Oh, no; I guess not," was his light reply. He lifted her hand again.

"It's your ring you miss?"

"Yes."

She rose and went to a little stand, from a drawer taking a golden circlet, and resuming her seat once more.

"Why do you not wear it?"

"It's a little large."

"Indeed. Permit me to take it. I will bring you another that you can wear."

She resigned the ring to his keeping.

"And this one. How beautiful!" he exclaimed, turning the diamond ring about on her finger.

"Strange you never noticed it's beauty before."

"Well, you know I've been too deeply absorbed in the owner."

Then he slipped the ring from her finger and held it up to the light.

"Well, it is a beauty!" he murmured, toying with it as a delighted boy might with a new plaything.

"I thought you did not admire diamonds?"

"Well, can't a person change their opinions?

"Certainly, but—"

"Ah, that pain again!" exclaimed the engineer, clasping his stomach suddenly and groaning.

"Oh, August, you are hurt, in pain, and trying to keep it from me!" she cried in alarm.

"It's a mere nothing, but—but have you any, brandy in the house? I feel that I need something of the kind."

He seemed trying to smother his distress, and this caused poor Rose to grow pale with alarm.

She sprang up at once.

"I believe there is a flask of brandy in the pantry; I will go for it."

"If you only would."

She passed out quickly.

In about ten minutes she returned having a flask and glass.

"I feel much better," he said, "but I will taste the spirits since it may prevent a recurrence of that ugly pain."

He tossed off a rather ample glass of the liquid, and declared that he felt twenty per cent better.

"If you weren't a strict temperance man I should think that you liked brandy," said Rose, with an amused laugh.

"I'm temperate to the backbone save when it's necessary to use liquor as a medicine," and he laughed, too, in unison with Rose.

She placed the flask and empty glass on the little stand.

"I must return now, Rose. I don't feel that I ought to remain out late to-night."

"Well, I hope you will not suffer from the effects of the accident."

"No danger. That diamond ring, Rose. I dropped it and can't just put my finger on it. Will you help me find it?"

He peered under the couch and chair.

"Never mind, August, I can find it in the morning."

He rose up then, kissed her good-night, and hurried away.

The next morning, when Rose came to look for the diamond ring, it was not to be found. She went to the stand and opened it; her case that held a set of diamond bracelets was there, open but empty.

Rose Alstine uttered a great cry.

Her diamond bracelets, valued at five thousand dollars were gone!

What did it mean?