"You can go now; call me in half an hour," said his master, dismissing him with a wave of his newly-decorated hand.
"A first-class idea! and, by Jove, Miss Helen, I owed you this. The idea of a little chit like you, the penniless daughter of an old Hindoo colonel, giving yourself such airs as you did last night," alluding to a scene when Helen, wearied by his compliment, and indignant at his presumption, had plucked up courage to rebuke him in a manner that penetrated even the triple armour of his self-conceit. Such a thing was a novel experience, the recollection of it stung him still, and to such a man as Jim Quentin, the affront was unpardonable. It awoke a slumbering flame of resentment in his rather stolid breast, and a burning desire to pay her out! And he would take right good care that she did not catch Lisle—Lisle, who was certainly inclined to make an ass of himself about her. With this determination in his mind, he rose, dressed, and languidly lounged into their mutual sitting-room, where his companion had been impatiently awaiting him for an hour, intending subsequently to sail across to Ross, and take one more parting with his fair lady-love, and, if possible, obtain a word with her father.
"So you have appeared at last?" he exclaimed; "I've been expecting you for ages."
"Have you? but we need not leave this till half-past eight," looking at his watch. "They know we are going,—and Hall is never in time."
"I'm not thinking of the Scotia," returned the other, scarcely able to restrain his impatience; "but of what you promised to show me last night—that proof you spoke of, you know."
"Oh! yes; by-the-bye, so I did," as if it were a matter of the most complete indifference. "I daresay I have something that will convince you. Will this do?" tendering his hand as he spoke, in quite an airy, nonchalant fashion.
Mr. Lisle glanced at it, and beheld his ring, the wreck ring, adorning Jim Quentin's little finger! He started as if he had been struck—his own gift, that she declared she would never part with! And she had bestowed it already,—given it to Quentin: this was enough, was too much—he asked no more.
"Well, will that do?" demanded Apollo, removing and tendering the token. "Are you satisfied now?"
"Yes," replied Mr. Lisle, who had regained his self-command. But the other had noted the sudden pallor of his face, the almost incredulous expression of his eyes, and felt that this borrowed bit of jewellery was indeed a trump card, boldly played.
Jim was immensely relieved as this one syllable fell from his companion's lips. The whole matter was now settled. Lisle was choked off: his own credit was unimpeached, but it had had a narrow squeak, and last night he had undoubtedly spent a very unpleasant quarter of an hour.