Before they quitted Rome, a bridal gift was laid on Hilda's table. It
was a bracelet, evidently of great cost, being composed of seven ancient
Etruscan gems, dug out of seven sepulchres, and each one of them the
signet of some princely personage, who had lived an immemorial time ago.
Hilda remembered this precious ornament. It had been Miriam's; and once,
with the exuberance of fancy that distinguished her, she had amused
herself with telling a mythical and magic legend for each gem,
comprising the imaginary adventures and catastrophe of its former
wearer. Thus the Etruscan bracelet became the connecting bond of a
series of seven wondrous tales, all of which, as they were dug out of
seven sepulchres, were characterized by a sevenfold sepulchral gloom;
such as Miriam's imagination, shadowed by her own misfortunes, was wont
to fling over its most sportive flights.
And now, happy as Hilda was, the bracelet brought the tears into her
eyes, as being, in its entire circle, the symbol of as sad a mystery
as any that Miriam had attached to the separate gems. For, what was
Miriam's life to be? And where was Donatello? But Hilda had a hopeful
soul, and saw sunlight on the mountain-tops.