'How generous, how kind of you to give them to me,' said Orange, without a trace of sarcasm in her voice—(English can make paste imitations as well as the French)—'And though these are only paste, still, I dare say no one will know the difference.'
'They are real stones,' said Mirelle, haughtily.
'My dear,' answered Orange, 'do you know what a Cornish compliment is? "Take this, it is of no more use to me." If these had been genuine diamonds you would have kept them for yourself; they would have been far too valuable to be parted with lightly. No one gives away anything but what is worthless. Look at Trecarrel's china jar. He got it cheap because it was faulty. He gave it to mother because he was bound to make her a present; if she had been worth money, he would not have sent her a worthless gift, but because she has nothing he sends her a nothing. That is the way of the world.'
'The stones form part of a set my father sent from Brazil to my mother in Paris.'
'Nevertheless they are imitations,' said Orange. 'I took them to the jeweller here, because, you see, my dear, if they had been diamonds, I could not have accepted such a costly present from you, but he unhesitatingly pronounced them to be paste. That, however, does not matter to me; it justifies my accepting and keeping the charming present, which will always be valued by me, not for the intrinsic worth, but as a memorial of your love.'
'Give me the pendant instantly,' said Mirelle, full of pride and anger. 'It is impossible that my father, a diamond merchant, could have offered my dear suffering mother such an insult as to send her a set of sham diamonds.'
She took the ornament, and went at once to the jeweller. She came away resentful and humbled. 'That Mr. Strange should have dared!'
Not for a moment did it occur to her that perhaps her mother had sold the stones, and replaced them with paste.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE OXENHAM ARMS.