LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2697, 29 November 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

A “ BRILLIANT ” ADVENTURE

The time was about a fortnight before ■Christmas. There were not many travellers, and I had a compartment in the early tidal train to myself. My destination was Paris, my errand to convey from my father (a London jeweller and silversmith) to_ his agent in that city a very valuable brilliant ring. ‘ The diamonds in it are worth five hundred pounds if they are worth a penny,’ my father had said to me, ‘so I hope you will take special care of the ring, Ned, and neither lose it on the way nor allow yourself to be robbed of it.’

I smiled a little superciliously as my father spoke. As if it were at all likely that I should either lose it or allow it to he stolen from mo. I was just turned one-and-twenty, and my father had no right to speak to me as if I were still a boy. I had got thft ring in an inner pocket of my waistcoat, as I took care to assure myself from time to time. I had not seen it since my father put it into the little ■velvet lined box in which it was still shut np. When I had finished my first cigar and had got through the morning nows, the thought struck mo that I might as •well have another look at the ring. There could be no harm in that, you know. I took the box out of its hiding place and opened it. My eyes wore dazzled as I looked. There lay the darling in its nest of purple velvet. Who could have resisted the pleasure of taking it out and trying it on ? Certainly not I. First on one finger and then on another I tried it. Had it been made for the third finger of my right band it could not have fitted me better. It looked simply exquisite. Now I came to think of it, was there or could there be a safer hiding place for the ring than my finger. I had only to keep my glove on, and not a soul would know anything about it. It was far safer there than in my pocket. In such a case to hesitate was folly. I placed the ring on my finger and put the empty box into my pocket. As I , was alone there was no occasion to put my glove on just then, so I mused and smoked and watched the many-colored rays of light that flashed from the brilliants, and wondered what great swell’s finger that ring was destined to decorate. How I wished that I could call it mine- There was no harm in dazzling the eyes of the ticket collector with it. He was only a railway official. But I took care to pull on my glove and button it before alighting from the train.

A quarter of an hour later we were steaming swiftly out of Dover Harbour. There were not more than a dozen passengers on deck. The day was cold and clear, ■with just enough sea on to make the voyage unpleasant for bad sailors. Only two ladies were visible. One was a stout middle aged person, who was eating and drinking nearly the whole way across, evidently an old salt. The other was—well, simply the most charming creature I had ever set eyes ■on. In point of fact I could not keep my eyes off her. I passed her and repassed her as I paced the deck from end to end, and every time that I passed her I looked at her. What lovely grey eyes ! What «uperb yellow hair ! But as for her complexion —it would need a poet to describe its wild rose tints. Once or twice her eyes met mine, just for a moment, and it struck me that they were full of a wistful sadness. So far as I could judge she was entirely alone. We were about half way across, when, as I passed her for the fiftieth time, she spoke. ‘ Would monsieur have the goodness to ask the steward to bring me a little cognac.’ She spoke in French. As the song says, her voice was low and sweet. I could only bow and grin and make a bolt for the steward’s den, of course. I took the cognac to her myself. You should have seen how prettily she thanked me. She sipped it as a canary might do if that bird were in the habit of drinking brandy. * I hope that mademoiselle is somewhat revived,’ I ventured, to observe, presently. * Yes, very much revived, thanks to monsieur. But I am not mademoiselle, I am madame. lam a widow.*

She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes as she spoke. How interesting—nay, how touching was Bus simple confession. The wistful sorrow in her eyes was at once accounted for. Would that it had been my happy lot to comfort her.

There was a camp stool close by. Presently I ventured to draw it a little nearer and to sit down on it, blushing at my temerity as I did so. She did not seem offended, and we were presently in the midst of an animated and interesting conversation. There was no hauteur about madame ; on the contrary she was candour itself.

She had only been three days in London she told me. She had been staying with Sir Henry Fitz Evans, who had charge of her late husband’s interests in England. She was now going back into seclusion, going back to the little cottage in which ■she had dwelt ever since her dear husband’s death. She would not be able to fo forward by the tidal train she told me, aving a business call to make in Calais. She would go forward by the evening -train.

All this was told me with charming frankness. There was no reason why I should not wait and go forward with her By the evening train if she would allow me •to do so. When I threw out a hint to that -effect she offered no objection. She admitted at once that she was fond of society, and then she looked at me, and—well, I could almost have sworn that she Blushed.

I had already told her that I was bound for Paris on a special errand for my father. But I had not said a word about the ring, nor had she even seen it. I had put on my gloves before leaving the train at Dover, and still wore them. A little while longer and we found ourselves at Calais. When we landed madame admitted that she was Bungry, and that luncheon would be a desirable feature of the programme. Accordingly, while she went about her business, I took a voiture and drove to to the Hotel Dessin. There, in the course of half an Bout, madame joined me. Now one can’t very well partake of luncheon in kid gloves. The question was whether I should partake of mine with the ring on my finger, or whether I should put it carefully away in the box and hide it out of sight. If you have any knowledge of what human nature is at twenty-one, especially when there’s a pretty woman in the case, you will know the decision arrived at.

Madame pecked at this and that, hut hardly ate more than a sparrow might have done. How swiftly the minutes seemed to fly- I could have lingered on in that cosy little room for a year. When the cloth was drawn and we were left to ourselves with a bottle of hock on the table between us, somehow our chairs seemed to gravitate towards each other, or perhaps it was the stove that attracted us, for the afternoon was chilly. In any case we found ourselves in closer proximity. Then said madame—- * Do you not smoke, monsieur ? ’ ' Yea ; considerably more than is good for me I am afraid.’

* Then smoke now, oblige me. I like to see a gentleman smoke.’ I rose in order to get my cigar case out of the pocket of my overcoat. Madame laid her hand lightly on my arm —and what a, charming hand it was—- * Senor, I am going to make confession,’ she said, ‘ I smoke too—moi cigarettes. I lived for many years in Spain, where nearly all the ladies smoke. You are not ■shocked, I hope, at the idea of a lady smoking a cigarette ?’ * Shocked, madame !’

* No, of course not. You are too much a man of the world; you are above such insular prejudices, eh bicn ? You shall smote one of my cigarettes.’ From the sachet by her side she drew an embroidered case, which she opened, and bade me choose a cigarette. I did so, and she took another. Then, with her own fair fingers, she struck an allumotte and held it while I lighted the weed. Then she lighted her own. She could not fail to see my ring as she lighted the match. * I daresay you find the flavor a little peculiar,’ said madame a minute or two later, ‘these cigarettes are made of perfumed tobacco, I never smoke any others.

I hope you don’t find yours disagreeable.’ ‘On the contrary, madame; I am quite in love with it. As you say, the flavor is slightly peculiar, but aromatic and pleasant —very pleasant.’ To tell the truth, I didn’t like it at all, but I wouldn’t have said so for worlds. Wo smoked on in silence. What would this superb creature say to me, I wondered, if I were to tell her how madly I had fallen in love with her; would she reject me with scorn, or would she— I gave a sudden start, and was shocked to find that I had been falling asleep. Fortunately madame had not noticed mo. Her largo melancholy eyas wore bent upon the stove. There was certainly something very soothing—something that inclined to slumber and happy dreams about madame. Peculiar cigarettes! If I had but two thousand a year now, and this sweet creature to share it with me, how happy I could bo.

Certainly she must have been six or seven years older than myself, but I never was one to care for your chits of school girls who set up for being women before they are out of their teens. Here was an angel who had been left desolate, who had been cast on a bleak and unfeeling world, who pined for a heart and a home —for a heart that brimmed over with love.

Gracious goodness ! I had a heart that yearned towards her—that —that—• Why, eh—how was this and whore was I. I awoke with a shiver.

But for the lamp in the courtyard the room would have been quite dark. My head was aching frightfully. I got up and staggered to the window. When I looked out and saw the familiar courtyard everything came back to me like a flash of light. Where was madame ? Why had I slept so long ? What a boor she must take me to be. I groped for the bell and rang it violently. Up came the waiter with a candle.

‘Where is madame ?’ I demanded,

‘ Madame,’ he answered, ‘ went out nearly three hours ago, saying that she wanted to make a few purchases, and would be back in a little time. On no account, she said, was her brother, who had suffered terribly from mal de mer in crossing, to be disturbed. Madame,’ he added, ‘ had not yet returned.’ Gone three hours ago ! Her brother ! Mal de mer! What could it mean? As I sat down, utterly bewildered, my arm pressed against the little box in my pocket. Mechanically I glanced at my finger; the ring was no longer there. My heart turned sick within me. I sank down and buried my face in my hands. The waiter thought I was ill, and ran to fetch some cognac. I saw it all now. Fool, fool that I was. I had allowed myself to be swindled by a common adventuress.

At nine o’clock next morning I stood before my father, a miserable, haggard, woe-bogone wretch. I told my tale, but as I did so I could not quite keep down my tears of mingled shame and vexation. He listened to me with a cynical smile. When I had done he went to his bureau and opened a drawer. ‘ Set your mind at rest, Ned ; here’s the ring safe and sound.’ I could only stare at him in open-mouth astonishment.

‘When madame, with the ring in her possession, left you asleep, she was just in time to catch the afternoon boat back to Dover. The ring was in my hands again before ten o’clock last night.’ ‘But—but,’ I stammered, ‘I don’t understand. When she had once got the ring in her possession, why did she bring it back to you ?’ * Because she was paid to do so ; because she was hired through the agency of a private inquiry office to act as she did. Madame, by profession, is not a thief, but a thief-taker. You had grown so conceited of late. Master Ned, I thought it would do you no harm to take you down a peg or two. I hope I have succeeded in convincing you that there .are people in this world quite as clever, or it may be cleverer than a certain young nincompoop of one-and-twenty. If you profit by the lesson my money will have been well spent.’ An hour or two later I said, ‘ But wasn’t it rather a risky thing to do with a ring worth five hundred pounds ?’ My father winked at me with the solemnity of a judge. ‘My dear Ned, what do you take your old dad for ? The diamonds were nothing but past©!’