Aunt Adela would have enjoyed herself.
You do understand that it was pure absent-mindedness on Justin’s part? When Justin told his mother the news and the first congratulations were over, and Mrs. Cloud had kissed him and he had re-sketched to her in delightful detail his ideas for the future, and Mrs. Cloud had neither assented nor dissented, but with her wise smile had listened and changed the subject and talked to him about Laura till he began to fidget—because, after all, he knew all about Laura, there was nothing new to say of Laura exactly—after that pleasant talk had died out and they had sat silent a while, Mrs. Cloud had turned in her chair and begun to ask lighter questions and so touched upon the subject of the ring.
“Oh—the ring!” Justin opened his eyes. He had been staring at the light window till he was nearly asleep. “Oh, of course. A ring! Yes, I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll run up to town tomorrow.”
Then he had asked his mother’s advice, and they had discussed the rival merits of pearls and emeralds and old settings, till Justin, always thorough, and growing interested, had got down the Encyclopædia and the dictionary with plates. He had broken off in the middle to go and fetch his Laura, very full indeed of his subject. And Laura had arrived, with a shy, glowing look about her that had touched Mrs. Cloud; but they were not allowed to do more than kiss each other before Laura was engaged in discussion with Justin as to whether the biblical jasper were the modern diamond, and if not why not? They got quite heated about it. Mrs. Cloud sat by and listened, and thought how clever they both were, and that Justin was the cleverer but that Laura talked faster: and occupied herself the while with taking the exact size of Laura’s third finger from her left-hand glove. The evening was a very pleasant one, though upon the whole more instructive than romantic. Of all three, I suppose, Mrs. Cloud went to bed the happiest. Laura dreamed of a bare hill-side and the scent of thyme and of a bird singing in the sun. Justin dreamed of nothing at all. But Mrs. Cloud dreamed quite shamelessly of grandchildren.
Justin went up to town the next day, only for a couple of hours, with the measurements in his pocket. He spent most of his time at South Kensington and the Jermyn Street Museum, and did not get back within the week. His crazes were always as thorough as they were sudden. He forgot all about his birds’ eggs and enjoyed himself very much: and brought back, as I told you, besides a new toothbrush, a most wonderful and expensive book on precious stones, Cellini’s treatise, Jones on finger rings, and a bound volume of the Connoisseur as a little present for Laura.
She was spending the afternoon with his mother on the day of his return, and after tea he laid his gifts in triumph before her. Laura could look at such books for their own sake where Mrs. Cloud looked at them for Justin’s; but neither motive mattered at the moment, for Justin was still so delighted with them that at first he would hardly let any one else look at them at all. Laura, over his shoulder, was as unwearied in asking questions as he in answering, and he had more or less unburdened himself, to her intent ears, of all he had seen and learned and adventured, before Mrs. Cloud, verging on impatience with the cool ways of your modern lovers, could find a pause in which to ask about a matter of importance.
“And what else did you bring home, Justin?” She had unpacked his bag herself, but it was not there. Her eyes were doubtfully on his slim pockets.
He turned over his purchases.
“Jones—Connoisseur—Cellini——Oh, yes, and there’s a Punch in the hall—” he turned to Laura again: “—as big as a plum—and a colour! In one case alone. Oh, you’ve got to come up with me, Laura. You’ve never seen anything like it. Funny—I’ve passed that room dozens of times and never noticed before. But, of course, I was always after eggs.”
Mrs. Cloud gave up trying to lead the conversation where she wanted it to go. She cut across it.