“Never! Nothing on earth shall make me do it.”
At Killancodlem they did not dine till half-past eight. Twilight was now stealing on these two, who were still out in the garden, all the others having gone in to dress. She looked round to see that no other eyes were watching them as she still held the ring. “It is there,” she said, putting it on the bench between them. Then she prepared to rise from the seat so that she might leave it with him.
But he was too quick for her, and was away at a distance before she had collected her dress. And from a distance he spoke again, “If you choose that it shall be lost, so be it.”
“You had better take it,” said she, following him slowly. But he would not turn back;—nor would she. They met again in the hall for a moment. “I should be sorry it should be lost,” said he, “because it belonged to my great-uncle. And I had hoped that I might live to see it very often.”
“You can fetch it,” she said, as she went to her room. He however would not fetch it. She had accepted it, and he would not take it back again, let the fate of the gem be what it might.
But to the feminine and more cautious mind the very value of the trinket made its position out there on the bench, within the grasp of any dishonest gardener, a burden to her. She could not reconcile it to her conscience that it should be so left. The diamond was a large one, and she had heard it spoken of as a stone of great value—so much so, that Silverbridge had been blamed for wearing it ordinarily. She had asked for it in joke, regarding it as a thing which could not be given away. She could not go down herself and take it up again; but neither could she allow it to remain. As she went to her room she met Mrs. Jones already coming from hers. “You will keep us all waiting,” said the hostess.
“Oh no;—nobody ever dressed so quickly. But, Mrs. Jones, will you do me a favour?”
“Certainly.”
“And will you let me explain something?”
“Anything you like—from a hopeless engagement down to a broken garter.”
“I am suffering neither from one or the other. But there is a most valuable ring lying out in the garden. Will you send for it?” Then of course the story had to be told. “You will, I hope, understand how I came to ask for it foolishly. It was because it was the one thing which I was sure he would not give away.”
“Why not take it?”
“Can’t you understand? I wouldn’t for the world. But you will be good enough—won’t you, to see that there is nothing else in it?”
“Nothing of love?”
“Nothing in the least. He and I are excellent friends. We are cousins, and intimate, and all that. I thought I might have had my joke, and now I am punished for it. As for love, don’t you see he is over head and ears in love with Miss Boncassen?”
This was very imprudent on the part of Lady Mabel, who, had she been capable of clinging fast to her policy, would not now in a moment of strong feeling have done so much to raise obstacles in her own way. “But you will send for it, won’t you, and have it put on his dressing-table tonight?” When he went to bed Lord Silverbridge found it on his table.
But before that time came he had twice danced with Miss Boncassen, Lady Mabel having refused to dance with him. “No,” she said, “I am angry with you. You ought to have felt that it did not become you as a gentleman to subject me to inconvenience by throwing upon me the charge of that diamond. You may be foolish enough to be indifferent about its value, but as you have mixed me up with it I cannot afford to have it lost.”
“It is yours.”
“No, sir; it is not mine, nor will it ever be mine. But I wish you to understand that you have offended me.”
This made him so unhappy for the time that he almost told the story to Miss Boncassen. “If I were to give you a ring,” he said, “would not you accept it?”
“What a question!”
“What I mean is, don’t you think all those conventional rules about men and women are absurd?”
“As a progressive American, of course I am bound to think all conventional rules are an abomination.”
“If you had a brother and I gave him a stick he’d take it.”
“Not across his back, I hope.”
“Or if I gave your father a book?”
“He’d take books to any extent, I should say.”
“And why not you a ring?”
“Who said I wouldn’t? But after all this you mustn’t try me.”
“I was not thinking of it.”
“I’m so glad of that! Well;—if you’ll promise that you’ll never offer me one, I’ll promise that I’ll take it when it comes. But what does all this mean?”
“It is not worth talking about.”
“You have offered somebody a ring, and somebody hasn’t taken it. May I guess?”
“I had rather you did not.”
“I could, you know.”
“Never mind about that. Now come and have a turn. I am bound not to give you a ring; but you are bound to accept anything else I may offer.”
“No, Lord Silverbridge;—not at all. Nevertheless we’ll have a turn.”
That night before he went up to his room he had told Isabel Boncassen that he loved her. And when he spoke he was telling her the truth. It had seemed to him that Mabel had become hard to him, and had over and over again rejected the approaches to tenderness which he had attempted to make in his intercourse with her. Even though she were to accept him, what would that be worth to him if she did not love him? So many things had been added together!
