A Ring of Rubies

I took the ring home in my pocket. This was a dangerous thing to do, and Mr Gray looked somewhat grave as he saw me slip such a precious relic into so insecure a hiding-place.

“Do keep out of crowds,” he said. “Beware of pickpockets when you get to Paddington, and, above all, keep your pocket side next your mother when you get into the train.”

I don’t think I attended to any of these directions, but the little old brown morocco case containing Cousin Geoffrey’s legacy arrived safely at Ivy Lodge, the name of our humble abode.

My mother and I got back in time for supper. My father and the boys arrived home as usual, and we sat down together to our supper.

I felt excited and full of my subject.

Surely on this night the departed relative might be mentioned; the curious scene after the funeral might be detailed for the benefit of those who were not present. But, as we approached the table, my mother held up a warning, finger.

“Not a word about Cousin Geoffrey,” she whispered to me.

The evening meal was even more dull than usual. No one alluded to the events of the day. George read a battered novel as he sipped his tea, and my father perused the evening paper, as was his invariable custom.

After tea, Jack, my youngest brother, came up and asked me a question.

“Any money left to you by the old miser, eh, Rosey?”

“No, Jack, certainly not.”

“Well, miss, you needn’t look so fierce. A pity not, say I. Girls are of very little value nowadays unless they have a good supply of the chink to add to their charms.”

“Jack, you are positively vulgar, I hate you to talk to me like that.”

“All right, my dear. I have no desire to have any further conversation with you. I’m dead tired and have a headache. I shall go to bed.”

Jack mounted the stairs to his own loft in the roof, and, as soon as possible, I followed his example. Having locked my door and lighted the precious inch of candle which was all that was ever allowed me to go to bed with, I took a key out of my pocket, and unfastening the box which contained all my greatest treasures, proceeded to place some wax Christmas tapers in various small sconces, and then to light them one by one. I had quite an illumination, as I sat down by my dressing-table to examine leisurely the legacy which had been left to me that day.

I took the little case out of my pocket, pressed the spring, and gazed at the treasure within. The fire which lay in the heart of the ruby leaped up at once to meet the illumination which I had made for it. I now perceived what I had not noticed before, that the ring contained three rubies. One of unusual size in the centre; one much smaller at each side. I saw at a glance that they had all eyes of fire, that they were beautiful, fantastic, bewitching. I suddenly pressed the little ring to my lips.

“Gift from Fairyland, welcome!” I said. “Open, sesame, and let me into your magical secrets! My life is so prosaic, so commonplace. Comfort me, little ring! Reveal to me the world of romance! Show me dreams, bring to me visions! Speak with those fiery eyes; speak, I listen!”

I suddenly stopped this rhapsody with a laugh.

“If my respected father and brothers heard me now they would think that I had taken leave of my senses,” I soliloquised. “Well, this is a dear little ring, and I am glad Cousin Geoffrey gave it to me. How small it is – it won’t go on my tiniest finger. I wonder what kind of woman wore it last. It is of heavy make to be a woman’s ring. How solid the gold is, and how quaintly carved. I see there is the device of a serpent worked very richly into the gold at each side, and the smaller ruby forms the eye. Really, this looks like witchery, a serpent with a fiery eye. Two serpents, rather, for each is complete in itself. How much to get into so little. No wonder the ring is heavy. Very different from that little slender hoop of mother’s which contains the single small bright diamond, which used to delight me when I was a child.”

Having examined the ring from every point of view I presently blew out the precious Christmas tapers. They were much too valuable to waste, so I put them back into my box, placed the ring in its case by their side, and got into bed.

The next morning I spoke to my mother. “I have been disappointed in my first effort to open the oyster-shell,” I said.

“What do you mean, Rosamund?”

“Only that I must seek some other means to secure the necessary money to take me to the Slade School.”

“My darling, I wish you would put such a futile idea out of your head.”

“Mother dear, I cannot. It is fixed and established there by this time. I must go to the Slade School, and I must find the means for defraying the necessary expenses. Now, if I were to sell my ruby ring – ”

“Oh, Rose, you surely are not serious.”

My mother’s face turned pale with apprehension.

“I don’t think I am,” I said. “I don’t believe I could part with the pretty thing. I love it already. Besides, Cousin Geoffrey did not wish me to sell it.”

“Rose, dear, your father doesn’t know that Geoffrey left you the ring.”

“Very well, mother, I shan’t enlighten him.”

“I believe that ruby ring is of considerable value,” continued my mother. “I know it well. It belonged to Geoffrey’s mother, and was left to her by an old ancestress, who brought a good deal of money and considerable misery to the house. Geoffrey’s mother would never wear the ring, but he was fond of it, and had a link made at the back to fasten it to his watch-chain. I know the large ruby in the middle is worth a great deal.”

All the time my mother was speaking she was going on with that endless darning which always gave me a sore dull feeling in my heart. If there is a dismal employment it is darning, and my mother’s little delicate fingers looked as if they were surely never meant for such an ungainly task.

“I wonder who Cousin Geoffrey has left all his money to?” I said suddenly. “I wonder if the rightful heirs will appear within the five years. I certainly should not like any of the relatives to have it.”

“I would not think about it, if I were you, Rosamund. We, of course, are completely out of it.”

“I don’t know why we should be. You are one of the nearest relations.”

“Well, dear, we are out of it, so that ends the matter.”

My mother spoke with quite unwonted irritation.

“It was a very curious will,” I said after a pause; “very eccentric.”

“Geoffrey was always eccentric, Rose, I’ve told you so scores of times.”

“I wish I knew who was the heir,” I repeated, getting up restlessly and standing by the fire. “Mother, have you any messages for me to do in town to-morrow?”

“In town? Surely, Rosamund, you are not going up to London so soon again. You have got no money; how can you pay your fare?”

“Yes, I have half-a-sovereign from my last allowance.”

“Oh, but that is extravagance.”

“I can’t help it, mother. I must go to a jeweller to ask him to value the ring. Oh, no, I shan’t sell it, but I cannot rest until I know its value.”

My mother looked vexed, but she knew it was useless to argue with me when I had fully made up my mind.

“I do not know what girls are made of in these days,” she remarked in a plaintive voice. “They are quite a different order of being from the girl of eighteen whom I used to know, when I was young. They are obstinate, and are quite sure to tell their elders every hour of the day that they know a great deal more about the ways and doings of life than they do, that they are quite capable of guiding their own actions.”

“Mother, you are not angry?” I said suddenly. “Oh no, dear,” she replied at once.

“I cannot help taking my own way, but I love you with all my heart,” I said irrelevantly. “I must take my ring to town and have it valued, but believe me, I shall do nothing really rash.”

“I must trust you, Rose,” she said then. “You are a queer girl, but I have never known you do a really imprudent thing in your life, except on the rare occasion when you would force yourself on Cousin Geoffrey’s notice.”

“Mother dear, was that rash? I have got my beautiful ruby ring.”