A Ring of Rubies

by L. T. Meade

I put on my hat and jacket and went out. The shades of evening were already falling. I was dreadfully afraid that I might meet my father and George. I did not wish to see them at that moment. I felt that their coldness and want of sympathy would unnerve me. They would have every reason to be cold, for why should they fuss themselves over Jack’s bad headache? and yet I, knowing the tragedy which lay beneath that apparently commonplace pain, felt that I could not stand the slight sneer of indifference which would greet my announcement at that moment. Jack, compared to George and my father, was a very black sinner indeed. The cardinal sin of theft could be laid at his door. He was guilty of gross deception; he was weak, he was imprudent, nay more, he was mad, for by what sacred right had he bound his own life to that of another, when it was impossible for him to fulfil the vows he had taken?

And yet, Jack, I loved you better than I had ever done before in my whole life at that moment; now in your pain, your helplessness, your degradation, I would spare you even from a sneer. You trusted me, Jack, and I resolved to prove myself worthy of your trust, and, if possible, if in any way within my power, to save you.

I walked down the village street, and reached Jane Fleming’s house. She was ironing some collars in her neat kitchen.

“Jane,” I said, “my brother Jack is ill, and mother wants you to go up and help to nurse him.”

“Yes, Miss Rosamund,” replied Jane, in her quiet, unsurprised way. “Am I likely to be required for the night, miss?”

“Yes, Jane, you certainly are.”

“I’ll be at Ivy Lodge in ten minutes, miss,” replied Jane Fleming.

I left the house without another word. Mr Ray lived a little farther off, but I was lucky in finding him also at home. I asked him to call to see Jack at once, and then I turned off in the direction of the railway station. I must be really wary now, for it would be fatal to Jack’s peace of mind were my father and George to see me going to town at that hour. I managed to elude them, however, and going into the ladies’ waiting-room scribbled a little note to my mother.

“Dear mother,” I said, “you must not be at all anxious. I am going to town on important business for Jack. Don’t on any account tell father and George, and expect me home some time to-morrow.”

I gave my note to a small boy who was lounging about outside the station. He was to deliver the little note into Jane Fleming’s hands. No one else was to get it. I knew Jane sufficiently well to be sure she would give it to my mother unobserved.