A Ring of Rubies

by L. T. Meade

Ordinary—yes,—I made up my mind on the spot that Lady Ursula was not at all good-looking. But she was something else. She appeared better, far better in my eyes. At that moment she looked what she was, an every-day, happy, healthy English girl. Yes, a happy girl, and her happiness took all her little affectations away.

“Oh, here you are, my benefactress?” she said, rushing up and kissing me. “May I introduce Captain Valentine? I don’t think I did it properly yesterday. Now, Rupert, let’s sit one at each side of her, and tell her everything, and get her to tell us everything.”

I was very much astonished, and I showed my astonishment in my face.

“Would you not rather speak to Miss Lindley alone, Ursula?” said Captain Valentine. “I can go out for a walk, or to—to buy something—I might return in a quarter of an hour.”

“No, Rupert, you will sit on that chair, just there, please, and listen.”

Captain Valentine sat down at the imperious bidding of Lady Ursula’s voice. I was sure he must have a sensitive nature, he got red so often. His whole face was scarlet now.

“Now I will begin,” said Lady Ursula. She turned towards me. “You know, Rosamund, you treated me very badly yesterday—very badly, and very shabbily, and very cruelly. Oh, my dear, I’m not going to reproach you now—it all turned out for the best, as the good little books say. Listen, Rosamund, please, to my story. After you left us yesterday, I told Rupert that I was distracted, that something had happened which I could not possibly tell him, but that I must instantly go to my dressmaker, and that it would be best for me to go alone. ‘By no means,’ answered Rupert, ‘I will accompany you.’ ‘Oh, don’t,’ I said. ‘I am determined,’ he replied. So the carriage was ordered, and we drove to Madame Leroy’s together. When I got there, I said, ‘I shall be some little time engaged.’ ‘Very well,’ Rupert answered, ‘I will wait for you in the carriage.’ ‘Oh, don’t,’ I said again. But he shook his head.

“I saw Madame Leroy, and got your home address from her, Rosamund. I wanted to follow you home, and I wanted Rupert not to come. He did not mind me; he would come. We took the train, and reached your pretty cottage in the country. We were shown into the drawing-room, and presently your mother came into the room. The moment I saw her I burst out crying. Somehow her face made me feel that I was the most miserable girl in the world, and that I was just about to lose everything, and that Rupert never, never had been half so dear to me. Your mother behaved perfectly to me; she took me out of the room, and said nice, kind, comforting sort of words, and soon I stopped crying, and told her that I wanted to see you, and she gave me your present address, and said she would send you a telegram. She was very sorry for me, but she wasn’t curious; she was too much of a lady to be curious, only she was just so sweet that the mere fact of my being in trouble made her kind to me.

“Rupert and I came away. We went back again to Grosvenor Street, and I felt more sure than ever that all must be up between us. I could not help it, Rosamund—when I got into the house I began to cry again. Then Rupert spoke—oh, dear, I can’t tell you how—but somehow I suddenly lost all my terror, and I told him the whole story from the beginning. You dreadful, but dear little benefactress, I took your advice. And what was the consequence? Rupert did just say one word of reproof. He said, ‘Don’t you suppose, Ursula, that I care more for you than for a ruby ring?’ So, of course, after that it was all right, and I have never, never been half so happy before in all my life.”

Captain Valentine, who had fidgeted on his chair, and seemed more or less on thorns during the recital of Lady Ursula’s story, now jumped up, and went over to the window to look out. He had only a view of Mrs Ashton’s back-yard, and surely the sight could not have been inspiriting. Lady Ursula, whose eyes were full of tears, bent forward to kiss me. I put my two arms around her neck and gave her a hug. I could not help it. I forgot all about her title and her grandeur—she was just a girl, like any other girl, to me at that moment.