A Ring of Rubies

“No, Lady Ursula, I am not cruel. The world, which has been so gentle to you, has blown many hard rough winds on my face, but they have never made me cruel. And as to being selfish, why should I part with my one ewe-lamb?”

“Oh, dear!” said Lady Ursula.

She rose from her seat, and began to pace up and down the room. I noticed that she was a tall, largely-made girl, and could be as vigorous and energetic as any one when she chose. She clenched her dainty hands now and spoke with passion. “I repeat that you are cruel and selfish,” she said. “I know that you can plead your cause well; for I suppose you are clever, and have doubtless been educated at one of those detestable High Schools. But let me tell you that however you argue the point you are actuated by cruel motives. What can that ring matter to you? and if I don’t get it, most likely my engagement will be broken off. Thus, you see, you will have ruined my life.”

“Lady Ursula,” I said, “it is you now who are cruel. I have my own reasons for wishing to retain my own trinket, and surely the only right and honourable thing for you to do is to tell Captain Valentine of your loss. If he is the least worthy of your affection, he will, of course, overlook what was only an unfortunate accident.”

“No, he never will – he never, never will. You don’t know what he thought of that ring. I’d rather never see him again than tell him that his mother’s ruby ring was lost.”

“Well, I am truly sorry for you. But I don’t see my way to helping you.”

“Listen. Hire me the ring for a week – only for a week, and I will give you thirty pounds.”

I must admit that this proposal staggered me. I thought of Jack, and the stolen twenty pounds. I thought of Monday morning, when the discovery of the theft would be made known. I thought of the agony, the dishonour; I saw my mother’s face as it would look when the news was brought to her that her son was a thief. Yes, thirty pounds could do much good just then; it would save Jack, and it would give me funds to attend to Hetty’s wants.

Lady Ursula saw the hesitation in my face.

“Give me one week’s grace,” she said. “My own ruby ring may be found before the week is up.”

She opened a little exquisitely inlaid secretary, and began to pull out of a secret drawer notes and gold. She made a pile of them on the table – four five-pound notes, ten sovereigns. The yellow of the sovereigns seemed to mix with the rose-coloured tone of the room. I gazed at them as if they fascinated me. I half held out my hand to close over them, and then drew it back again.

“You will take the money – you want it, I know you do,” said Lady Ursula.

“But even if I do you will be no better off at the end of a week. In fact, you will be worse off, for you will have been all that time deliberately deceiving the man you intend to marry.”

“Oh, don’t begin to lecture me! Let the end of the week take care of itself! Here are thirty pounds! Give me the ring for a week!”

“I shall do very wrong.”

“Do wrong then! Take your money! You are looking greedily at it! Take it, you long for it!”

“I do long for it,” I answered. “If I take it, Lady Ursula, it will avert such a storm as girls like you can never even picture. It will save – Oh, have you a mother, Lady Ursula?”

“Of course I have. I don’t see her very often. She is at Cannes now.”

“If I take the money,” I said, “it will be only for a week, remember.”

“Very well. Of course you will take it. Out with your purse. Nay, though, you shall have a new purse, and one of mine. What do you say to this, made of red Russian leather? Here go the notes, and here the gold. Pop the purse into your pocket. Now, don’t you feel nice? We have both got what we want, and we can both be happy for a week.”

“I will come back in a week,” I said. I felt so mean when that thirty pounds lay in my pocket that I could scarcely raise my eyes. For the first time the difference of rank between Lady Ursula and myself oppressed me. For the first time I was conscious of my shabby dress, my rough boots, my worn gloves. “Good-bye, Lady Ursula,” I said.

“Good-bye, good-bye! I cannot tell you how grateful I am! You are not cruel, you are not selfish. By the way, what is your name?”

“Lindley.”

“Your Christian name?”

“I am called Rosamund.”

“How pretty! Good-bye, Rosamund!”

Chapter Seven

Mr Chillingfleet

I left the house, and took the next train home. Jack was very ill indeed. His fever had taken an acute form. My mother looked miserable about him. Even the doctor was anxious.

“I am so glad you have come back, Rose,” said my mother; “you had scarlet fever when you were a little child, so there is no fear for you, and it will be a great comfort having you in the house.”

I did not make any immediate response to this speech of my mother’s. I had Hetty under my charge, and could not stay, and yet how queer my mother would think my absence just then. I wondered if I dared confide to her Jack’s secret. It was told me in great confidence, but still – While I was hesitating, my mother began to speak again.

“Jack has been delirious all the morning. In his delirium he has spoken constantly of a girl called Hetty. Do we know any one of the name, Rose?”

“I know some one of the name,” I responded.

“You! – But what friend have you that I am not acquainted with? I don’t believe there is a single girl called Hetty in this place.”

“I know a girl of the name,” I repeated. “She does not live here. She is a girl who is ill at present, and in – in great trouble, and I think I ought to go and nurse her. She is without the friend who should be with her, and it is right for me to take his place.”

“What do you mean, Rosamund? Right for you to go away, and nurse a complete stranger, when your own brother is so ill?”

“But he has you, and Jane Fleming. Jack won’t suffer for lack of nursing, and the girl has no one.”

“I have old-fashioned ideas,” said my mother. A pink flush covered her face. I had never seen her more disturbed. “I have old-fashioned ideas, and they tell me that charity begins at home.”

At this moment Jane Fleming softly opened the door and came in. She certainly was a model nurse; so quiet, so self-contained, so capable.

“Mr Jack is awake, and conscious,” she said. “He fancied he heard your voice, Miss Rose, and he wants to see you at once.”

I glanced at my mother. She was standing with that bewildered expression on her face which mothers wear when their children are absolutely beyond their control. I made my resolution on the spur of the moment.

“Come with me to Jack, mother,” I said.

I took her hand, and we went softly up-stairs to the attic bedroom. Jack’s great big feverish eyes lighted up with expectancy when he saw me; but when he perceived that my mother accompanied me, their expression changed to one of annoyance. I went up to him at once, and took his hand.

“Hetty is better,” I said, “she has had an excellent night and is doing well. Mother dear, please come here. I shall go back to Hetty, Jack, and take all possible care of her, and nurse her, and make her strong and well again, if you will tell our mother who she is.”

“Yes,” said Jack, at once. “Yes, oh yes; she is my wife.”

My mother uttered an exclamation.

“Tell mother all about her, Jack,” I continued. “I will leave you both together for five minutes, then I will return.”

I slipped out of the room, took Jane aside, and gave her a sovereign.

“Jane,” I said, “you are to make the beef-tea yourself, and you are always to have a supply, fresh and very strong, in the house. Whenever my mother seems tired or fagged you are to give her a cup of beef-tea, and see that she drinks it.”

“Bless you, Miss Rose, of course I will.”