A Ring of Rubies

George too was very much the better for his good food, cheerful home, and well-made clothes. (I had sent him to a West End tailor a week ago, and when he returned home in the suit of clothes which that tailor had given him, I discovered for the first time that George was a remarkably well-made man.)

As to Jack and Hetty, this was their first taste of the good things of life. They were still poorly clad, their faces were thin, and in each pair of eyes anxiety was not dead, but only lulled to sleep.

Notwithstanding this, however, these two – the brother who had fallen a victim to temptation, and the little new sister who had loved him and suffered for his sake – were to me more interesting, more powerful to move me, more capable of filling my heart with rejoicing, than were any other people in the room.

As to Cousin Tom – it is very strange, but I scarcely thought of Cousin Tom during that jovial meal. He was there – he was one of us; he was a most important factor in all the happiness; without him there would have been no happiness, no delightful sunshine of prosperity.

It seemed to me, however, as I shared the merry meal, and saw the faces of my own people looking their best and brightest, either that there was no room for Cousin Tom in my heart, or that his footing in it was so well-established that he was part of me already. I have thought of that happy evening often since, and I am quite sure now that the reason I gave so little separate thought to my cousin was, because I knew him so well.

After supper my father, George, Hetty, and Jack went off to explore the house. George was very polite to his new sister Hetty, and my father was glad to renew his intercourse with Jack.

“You will come with us, won’t you, Valentine?” asked George of my cousin.

“I will follow you in a few moments,” he answered.

George went away, and Tom and I were alone. He came up to me at once.

“I wish you quite to understand,” he said, speaking in a very composed and guarded sort of fashion, “that I don’t intend to take advantage of anything you may say on impulse. I love you; I loved you before I knew a word of that strange will of our old kinsman’s. The first day I saw you I felt that you were different from other women. Well, that is all. I think you believe me. I don’t want to say anything more on this matter at present. If Cousin Geoffrey had not made his queer will, I should have pressed my suit. As it is, I cannot.

“What I want to tell you now, however, is this, that you are absolutely free to choose your own time to marry me. There is to be no hurry, and no constraint is to be put upon you. I understand from Gray that you have yielded to the conditions of our cousin’s will for your mother’s sake. Gray is a right good fellow, and he appreciates your spirit of self-sacrifice. He has made it possible for us two to delay our marriage, and yet for your mother and your people not to suffer.”

“I know,” I answered, “I know. Mr Gray told me himself. But I – I don’t wish that.”

“You don’t wish to delay our marriage?”

“No; come up-stairs and see mother.”

I took his hand before he could prevent me. I ran up the wide stairs holding it. Still clasping it in mine, I entered my mother’s room.

She looked up at the sound of our feet. Her eyes rested on our faces – Cousin Tom’s pale, mine flushed. Then the pink glow deepened on her cheeks. She held out her hands to us both.

“Come,” I said to my cousin. He followed me, and my mother laid her little hand in his.

“Mother,” I said, “this is my cousin, Tom Valentine; we are going to marry each other.”

“My dear Rose, my child!”

“There is no hurry,” murmured Tom.

“There is every hurry,” I repeated; “we – we love each other.”

“Rosamund!” interrupted my cousin.

“We love each other,” I continued, steadily, “as much as any two people could. There is no reason why we should delay our marriage.”

“As that is the case, there is no reason what ever,” Tom Valentine said now. And he put his arm quite boldly round my waist.

I think my mother said something more, but I am not quite sure. The queerest thing happened at that moment; the queerest, most incomprehensible thing. I had forgotten Cousin Tom down-stairs because my father and brothers and sister were present. Now up-stairs I forgot my mother, who had hitherto been the first being in the world to me, because Cousin Tom was by; because I suddenly knew that my heart was his, my life his, my future his; because I realised that if every other part of Cousin Geoffrey’s will crumbled into dust and ceased to bind me, the clause which gave me to Tom Valentine would remain in force, and be the sweetest and dearest of all bonds to me.

Cousin Tom’s arm held me still firmer to his side. I turned and laid my head on his shoulder.

The End.