Jasper

by Mrs. Molesworth

“Leave the past, darlings,” she said, “that is all over and forgiven. What I want to tell you is that you may help me to do something for our dear boy,” and as she spoke she opened two ring boxes, showing their contents. There were two beautiful, though not very large, diamond rings—of different designs, but about the same size. The children gazed at them in admiration.

“These are the only jewels of any value that I have kept,” she said, “and they are not very valuable, but they are old family ones, and I meant them for you two. I know the pair would sell for forty or fifty pounds—enough, with care, to get a little country cottage for two or three months where we could take it in turns to be with Jasper. But I count them really yours, you see?” and she looked up at them.

“Oh, sell them, sell them. Auntie darling,” cried both the children together. “Thank you, oh, thank you, for letting us join in it. When can you settle about it, dear Auntie?”

“To-morrow morning, I think,” was the reply. “I will tell no one but you two, dears, and perhaps Mummy will let one of you go with me to a jeweller I know. I am rather nervous about omnibuses still. And then when we bring back the money, we will all three together give it to your mother, and talk over what will be the best place. Perhaps Seabay again—it seemed to suit him.”

And so it was settled. But, strange to say, the plan was not carried out! The dear old rings were never sold. They are on Leila’s and Chrissie’s fingers at this very moment. And how this came about, I must hasten to tell you.

Something had happened which even Aunt Margaret had not yet been told. “We must not raise false hopes till we know more about it all. Dear Aunt has been through so much strain already,” Mr and Mrs Fortescue had thoughtfully decided.

But at the very time that the consultation was taking place about the rings, another and most important one was being held in a private room at a certain hotel, where, after several letters had passed between Mr Fortescue and his tenant at Fareham, it had been arranged that the three—for Mrs Fortescue was particularly required—should meet.

This was the subject of it. You will remember that Mr Maynard had been strangely struck by the name “Jasper Greville.” It was that of a very old man—a gentleman—whom he had known for several years in Australia. This Mr Greville had been foolish and extravagant in his early youth, and having wasted what money he had—not very much after all—had been shipped off to the colonies by his relations, none of whom, as he was an orphan and an only child, cared very much what became of him, except one cousin, who had gone to Liverpool with him and done what he could for his comfort, till he sailed. And this the emigrant never forgot. Tears and years afterwards he wrote to his kind namesake—they were both “Jaspers”—to tell of his prosperity; but the letter was never answered, for by some mistake in the address, it was never received. And as the Australian was by this time happily married and the father of several boys and girls, and full of home interests and business, he never wrote again.

Life had opened sadly for him, and now, when he was over eighty, it seemed as if it were to close in the same way. For after many happy years, sorrow after sorrow fell upon him. His wife died, then his daughters; then again, after some years’ interval, his two sons, in the prime of life, and last of all his twin grandsons, the last of his children, on whom all his hopes were centred, the sole heirs of his large fortune! And then all seemed at an end for the poor old man.

“What do I care for possessions on this side now?” he had often said to his friend, Mr Maynard. “It is not a case of ‘moth and rust’ with me—it is even sadder from this world’s point of view, though not really so,” for he was a true Christian. “I can look forward to the better country where my dear ones are waiting for me. Still, I must not be selfish: I must make some use of my wealth. I will leave a fair amount for good charities here, where it has been made, but besides this Maynard, if you should come across any of my name in England, let me know. ‘Jasper Greville,’ remember—not Greville only; of Grevilles there are plenty, but my branch was always marked by ‘Jaspers.’ I fancy, however, they have all died out. There were never very many of us.”