“It is very pretty,” said Redbud, gently; “who was she, sir?”

The lawyer was silent; he seemed afraid to trust his voice.  At last he said: 

“My child.”

And his voice was so pathetic, that Redbud felt the tears come to her eyes.

“Pardon me for making you grieve, Mr. Rushton,” she said, softly, “it was very thoughtless in me.  But will you let me speak?  She is in heaven, you know; the dear Savior said himself, that the kingdom of heaven was full of such.”

The lawyer’s head bent down, and a hoarse sigh, which resembled the growl of a lion, shook his bosom.

Redbud’s eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, do not grieve, sir,” she said, in a tremulous voice, “trust in God, and believe that He is merciful and good.”

The poor stricken heart brimmed with its bitter and corroding agony; and, raising his head, the lawyer said, coldly: 

“Enough? this may be very well for you, who have never suffered—­it is the idle wind to me!  Trust in God?  Away! the words are fatuitous!—­ough!” and wiping his moist brow, he added, coldly, “What a fool I am, to be listening to a child!”

Redbud, with her head bent down, made no reply.

Her hand played, absently, with the coral necklace; without thinking, she drew it with her hand.

The time had come.

The old necklace, worn by use, parted asunder, and fell upon the floor.  The lawyer, with his cold courtesy, picked it up.

As he did so,—­as his eye dwelt upon it, a strange expression flitted across his rugged features.

With a movement, as rapid as thought, he seized the gold clasp with his left hand, and turned the inner side up.

His eye was glued to it for a moment, his brow grew as pale as death, and sinking into the old chair, he murmured hoarsely: 

“Where did you get this?”

Redbud started, and almost sobbing, could not reply.

He caught her by the wrist, with sudden vehemence, and holding the necklace before her, said: 

“Look!”

Upon the inside of the gold plate were traced, in almost illegible lines, the letters, “A.R.”

“It was my child’s!” he said, hoarsely; “where did you get it?”

Redbud, with a tremor which she could not restrain, told how she had purchased the necklace from a pedlar; she knew no more; did not know his name—­but recollected that he was a German, from his accent.

The lawyer fell into his chair, and was silent:  his strong frame from time to time trembled—­his bosom heaved.

At last he raised his face, which seemed to have sunken away in the last few moments, and still holding the necklace tightly, motioned Redbud toward the door.

“We—­will—­speak further of this,” he said, his voice charged with tears; and with a slow movement of his head up and down, he again desired Redbud to leave him.

She went out:—­the last she saw was Mr. Rushton clasping the necklace to his lips, and sobbing bitterly,