They were placed side by side in Mr. Raleigh's hand; they matched
entirely, and, so united, they formed a singular French coin of value
and antiquity, the missing figures on one segment supplied by the other,
the embossed profile continued and lost on each, the scroll begun by
this and ended by that; they were plainly severed portions of the
same piece.
"And this was buried by your Aunt Susanne Le Blanc?" asked Mrs. Purcell,
turning to Mrs. Laudersdale again, with a flush on her cheek.
"So I presume."
"Strange! And this was given to mamma by her mother, whose maiden name
was Susan White. There's some _diablerie_ about it."
"Oh, that is a part of the ceremony of money-hiding," said Mr. Raleigh.
"Kidd always buried a little imp with his pots of gold, you know, to
work deceitful charms on the finder."
"Did he?" said Marguerite, earnestly.
They all laughed thereat, and went in to tea.
[To be continued.]
EPITHALAMIA.
I.
THE WEDDING.
O Love! the flowers are blowing in park and field,
With love their bursting hearts are all revealed.
So come to me, and all thy fragrance yield!
O Love! the sun is sinking in the west,
And sequent stars all sentinel his rest.
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