"Oh, but she's jolly," Edith said, "I don't wonder Mr. Arthur
loves her," and she felt her own heart throb with a strange
affection for the beautiful original of that daguerreotype.
In the hall without there was the sound of a footstep. It was
coming to that room. It was Grace herself, Edith thought; and
knowing she would be censured for touching what did not belong to
her, she thrust the locket into her bosom, intending to return it
as soon as possible, and springing out upon the piazza, scampered
away, leaving the water pail to betray her recent presence.
It was NOT Grace, as she had supposed, but Arthur St. Claire
himself come to put away the locket, which he suddenly remembered
to have left upon the table. Great was his consternation when he
found it gone, and that no amount of searching could bring it to
light. He did not notice the empty pail the luckless Edith had
left, although he stumbled over it twice in his feverish anxiety
to find his treasure. But what he failed to observe was discovered
by Grace, whom he summoned to his aid, and who exclaimed:
"Edith Hastings has been here! She must be the thief!"
"Edith, Grace, Edith--it cannot be," and Arthur's face indicated
plainly the pain it would occasion him to find that it was so.
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