A Ring of Rubies

by L. T. Meade

for young ladies.She made Jack's acquaintance early in the spring; no one else had everbeen specially kind to her, and when he asked her to marry him, she said"Yes," in a burst of delight and gratitude.

  "I didn't know he was so grand as he has turned out to be, miss," saidHetty, in conclusion.

  "Now, Hetty, what did I say about miss?"

  "It seems so queer and forward to say Rose," she answered. "I never hadany one to love until Jack married me. Oh, don't I love him just, anddon't I love you--_Rose_!"

  "I know you do," I said, "and when you see my mother you will love her.We will try to be good to you, poor little Hetty, and you will try tolearn to be a real lady for my mother's sake."

  "And for Jack's sake," she answered, an eager flush coming into hercheeks.

  "Yes," I replied.

  "Will you show me how to be a lady, Rose?"

  "Oh, Hetty, no one can show you. You must find out the way yourself.You will, too, if you are in earnest, and if you love my mother as shedeserves to be loved. Hetty, my mother is the gentlest of women, andyet no queen could be more dignified, more ladylike."

  "Would she frighten me awfully?" whispered Hetty.

  "Oh, you poor child! There, I won't talk any more. Wait until you seeher!"

  Hetty was rather under than over educated for her station; but there wasa certain sweetness, and even refined charm about her, which gave me asense of almost pain as I looked at her. Was Jack worthy of thispassionate, loving heart?

  Sunday passed peacefully, but I did not forget what lay before me onMonday morning. The real crucial turn in Jack's affairs would comethen.

  I went early to town, and saw Mr Chillingfleet, the head of Jack'sfirm, about eleven o'clock. Jack had told me that twelve was the hourwhen the money was generally collected and sent to the bank. I don'tknow how I managed to inveigle a young clerk to coax Mr Chillingfleetto see me, but I did, and at eleven o'clock I stood before him.

  I looked into his face. I knew that a great deal hung upon thatinterview; I knew that my mother's future happiness in life, that allpoor Hetty's bliss or undoing depended on what sort of face MrChillingfleet possessed. I was a good reader of physiognomy, and Istudied his with an eager flash.

  It was a firm face: the lips thin, the chin both long and square, thecheck-bones high; the eyes, however, were kind, honest, straightforward.I looked into Mr Chillingfleet's eyes, and took courage.

  "You want to see me, young lady?" said the chief of the great house.

  "I do, sir," I said, "I have come about my brother Jack."

  "Young Lindley--you are young Lindley's sister? I am sorry he is ill."

  Mr Chillingfleet's tone was kind, but not enthusiastic. The youngclerk's services were evidently not greatly missed.

  "I have a story to tell you," I said. And then I began to speak.

  My tone was eager, but I saw at once that I did not make a deepimpression. Mr Chillingfleet was only languidly attentive. I couldread his face, and I was absolutely certain that the thought expressedon it was the earnest hope that my story would be brief. I felt certainthat he considered me a worry, that he felt it truly unreasonable of thesisters of sick clerks to come to worry him before noon on Mondaymorning.

  He was a true gentleman, however, and as such could not bring himself tobe rude to a woman.

  "I can give you ten minutes," he said, in a courteous tone.

  All this time I had been toying with my subject. I now looked in agonyat a boy clerk who was perched on a high stool by a desk at the otherend of the room.

  "If I could see you by yourself," I said, almost in a whisper.

  "Dawson, you can go," said Mr Chillingfleet.

  The boy glided off the high stool, and vanished. The moment the doorwas shut I took out my purse, and removing four five-pound notes, laidthem on the desk beside the chief of the great house.

  "Good gracious, young lady, what do you mean by that?" said MrChillingfleet.

  "Those four five-pound notes are yours," I said. "I have brought themback to you."

  "Miss Lindley, you must explain yourself."

  Mr Chillingfleet's tone was no longer languid in its interest.

  Then I gulped down a great lump in my throat, and told the story. Itdoes not matter how I told it. I cannot recall the words I used. Idon't know whether I spoke eloquently or badly. I know I did not cry,but I am firmly convinced that my face was ashy pale, for it felt soqueer and stiff and cold.

  At last I had finished. The story of the young clerk's temptation anddisgrace was known to his chief. Now I waited for the fiat to go forth.Suppose Mr Chillingfleet refused to receive back the twenty pounds Ibrought him? Suppose he thought it good for the interests of businessthat the young thief--the wicked, brazen young thief--should be made anexample of?

  I gazed into the kind and honourable eyes. I watched with agony thefirm, the hard, the almost cruel mouth.

  "Oh, sir," I said, suddenly, "take back the money! Jack's mother isalive, and perhaps your mother, too, lives, sir. Take back the money,and be merciful, for her sake."

  Mr Chillingfleet shut his eyes twice, very quickly. Then he spoke.

  "You must not try to come over me with sentiment," he said. "This isnot the time. A principle is involved, and I must be guided by a senseof duty. I am particularly busy at this moment, but I will give you mydecision before you go. Can you wait for half an hour?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Mr Chillingfleet sounded an office gong by his side.

  "Dawson," he said, when the boy appeared, "show this lady into thewaiting-room."

  The boy preceded me into a dismal little back room, furnished me with acopy of the day's _Times_, and left me. I could not read a word. Ifelt more and more hopeless as the moments went by.

  It was nearly one o'clock before I was summoned back into MrChillingfleet's presence.

  "Sit down," he said, in a much more kind tone than he had used when Ileft him. "You are a good girl, Miss Lindley," he began. "You haveacted in a very straightforward and honourable manner. Your mother mustbe a good woman, for she has brought up a worthy daughter. However, tothe point. I will accept the notes you have just brought me in lieu ofthose stolen by your brother. I will not prosecute him for theft."

  "Oh, sir, God bless you?"

  "Stay, you must hear me out. I don't forgive absolutely; I should notthink it right. Lindley has proved himself unworthy of trust, and he nolonger holds a situation in this house. He may redeem his charactersome day, but the uphill path will be difficult for him, for the simplereason that I shall find it impossible to give him a recommendationwhich will enable him to obtain another situation."

  "Oh, sir--Mr Chillingfleet--his young wife!"

  "Precisely so, Miss Lindley, but society must be protected. When a mandoes something which destroys his character, he must bear theconsequences. There, I am sorry for you, but I can do no more. I mustbe just. Good-morning."

  Mr Chillingfleet touched my fingers, bowed to me, and I withdrew.

  I pulled my veil down over my face; I did not look to right or left as Iwalked out of the office.

  CHAPTER EIGHT.

  I CANNOT PART WITH MY RING.

  Jack was going on well, and I spent most of the time with his wife. Oneday a letter from home was forwarded to me. I opened it, and saw to myastonishment that the signature was Albert Chillingfleet.

  "My dear Miss Lindley," the good man wrote, "your face has made a tolerably strong impression on me. I wish you were a lad; I would give you a berth in my business-house directly. But in the case of your brother, justice must be done, you know. He ought never to be a clerk in a business-house again. Still, there are other openings. When he has quite recovered, ask him to call to see me at my private address--Princes' Gate. I am generally disengaged and at home between nine and ten in the evening. I enclose a trifle for that young wife.

  "Yours sincerely,--

  "Albert Chillingfleet."

  The
trifle was a ten-pound note. My fingers trembled as I unfolded it.I looked across the room at Hetty. She was better now, and was able tospend a certain portion of each day on a sofa which the landlady hadbrought into the room for her.

  Hetty's face wore the bright, innocent expression of a child. Herillness seemed to have brought back a kind of pathetic lost youth toher. She was young, undoubtedly, in years, very young, but I feltconvinced that before she had been so ill she had not worn thischild-expression--her lips could not have been so reposeful in the olddays, nor her eyes so unanxious.

  She was lying now gazing calmly out of the window. Her hands werefolded on her lap. The knitting she had been trying to accomplish hadtumbled