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.
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