The Danvers Jewels, and Sir Charles Danvers Part 3

he added, as if it were an after-thought. "I feel I could not bestow my best affections on a woman without a dimple. Yes, indeed! Ralph has chosen well."

Now I do not agree with Charles there, as I have always considered that a woman _should_ have a certain amount of mind; just enough, in fact, to enable her to appreciate a superior one. I said as much to Charles; but he only laughed, and said it was a subject on which opinion had always varied.

"How did he meet her?" I inquired.

"On the Rigi, last summer," said Charles. "I am thinking of going there myself next year. Lovely orphan sat by Lady Mary at _table d'hote_. Read tracts presented by Lady Mary. Made acquaintance. Lovely orphan's travelling companion or governess discovered to be live sister of defunct travelling companion or governess of Lady Mary. Result, warm friendship. Ralph, like a dutiful nephew, appears on the scene.

Fortnight of fine weather. Interesting expeditions. Romantic attachment, cemented by diamond and pearl ring from Hunt & Roskell's. There is the whole story for you."

Evelyn Derrick joined us as he finished speaking. She was a tall graceful girl, gentle and dignified in manner, with a pale refined face.

She was pretty in a way, but not to compare to Aurelia. Evelyn had an anxious look about her, too. Now I do not approve of a girl looking grave; she ought to be bright and happy, with a smile for every one. It is all very well for us men, who have the work of the world to do, to look grave at times, but with women it is different; and a woman always looks her best when she smiles--at least, I think so.

Then Aurelia came down, perfectly dazzling in white satin; then Sir George, then Ralph, giving an arm to Lady Mary, who suffered from rheumatism in her foot. Then came the gong, and there was a rustle down of more people, young and old, friends of the family who had come to act, or to see their sons and daughters act. As I never could get even their names right, I shall not attempt to give any account of them, especially as they are not of importance in any way.

After dinner, on entering the drawing-room, I found that great excitement prevailed among the ladies respecting Sir John's jewels.

About his sad fate and costly legacy they all seemed fully informed. I had myself almost forgotten the reason of my visit in my interest in my new surroundings, not having even as yet given up the jewels to Sir George Danvers or Ralph; but, at the urgent request of all the ladies at once, Ralph begged me to bring them down, to be seen and admired then and there, before the rehearsal began.

"They will all be yours, you know," Ralph said to Aurelia. "You shall wear them on your wedding-day."

"You are always talking about being married," said Aurelia, with a little pout. "I wish you would try and think of something else to say. I was quite looking forward to it myself until I came here, and now I am quite, _quite_ tired of it beforehand."

Ralph laughed delightedly, and Sir George reminding me that every one was dying of anxiety, himself included, I ran up-stairs to take the brown bag from around my neck, and in a few minutes returned with it in my hand. They were all waiting for me, Lady Mary drawn up in an arm-chair beside an ebony table, on which a small s.p.a.ce near her had been cleared, Charles alone holding rather aloof, sipping his coffee with his back to the fire.

"Don't jostle," he said, as they all crowded round me. "Evelyn, let me beg of you not to elbow forward in that unbecoming manner. Observe how Aunt Mary restrains herself. Take time, Middleton! your coffee is getting cold. Won't you drink it first?"

As he finished speaking I turned the contents of the bag upon the table.

The jewels in the bright lamp-light seemed to blaze and burn into the ebony of the table. There was a general gasp, a silence, and then a chorus of admiration. Charles came up behind me and looked over my shoulder.

"Good gracious!" said Lady Mary, solemnly. "Ralph, you are a rich man.

Why, mine are nothing to them!" and she touched a diamond and emerald necklace on her own neck. "I never knew poor Sir John had so much good in him."

"Oh, Ralph, Ralph!" cried Aurelia, clasping her little hands with a deep sigh. "And will they really be my very own?"

Ralph a.s.sured her that they would, and that she should act in them the following night if she liked.

I think there was not a woman present who did not envy Aurelia as Ralph took up a flashing diamond crescent and held it against her fair hair. I saw Evelyn turn away and begin to tear up a small piece of paper in her hand. Women are very jealous of each other, especially the nice, by which I mean the pretty, ones. I was sorry to see jealousy so plainly marked in such a charming looking girl as Evelyn; but women are all the same about jewels. Aurelia blushed and sparkled, and pouted when the clasp caught in her hair, and shook her little head impatiently, and was altogether enchanting.

After the first burst of admiration had subsided, General Marston, an old Indian officer, who had been somewhat in the rear, came up, and looked long at the glittering ma.s.s upon the table.

"Are you aware," he said at last to Ralph, pointing to the crescent, "that those diamonds are of enormous value? I have not seen such stones in any shop in London. I dare not say what that one crescent alone is worth, or that emerald bracelet. Jewels of such value as this are a grave responsibility." He stood, shaking his head a little and turning the crescent in his hand. "Wonderful!" he said. "Wonderful! Do not tear up that piece of rice-paper, Miss Derrick," he added, taking it from her. "The crescent was wrapped in it, and I will put it round it again.

All these stones want polishing, and many of them resetting. They ought not to be tumbled together in this way in a bag, with nothing to prevent them scratching each other. See, Ralph, here is a clasp broken; and here are some loose stones; and this star has no clasp at all. You must take them up to some trustworthy jeweller, and have them thoroughly looked over."

"I suppose the second son was specially mentioned, Middleton?" said Charles, as I drew back to let the rest handle and admire.

"Of course!" said Lady Mary, sharply; "and a very fortunate thing, too."

"Very--for Ralph," he replied. "It is really providential that I am what I am. Why, I might have ruined the dear boy's prospects if I had paid my tailor's bill, and lived in the country among the b.u.t.tercups and daisies. Ah! my dear aunt, I see you are about to remark how all things here below work together for good!"

"I was not going to remark anything of the kind," retorted Lady Mary, drawing herself up; "but," she added, spitefully, "I do not feel the less rejoiced at Ralph's good fortune and prosperity when I see, as I so often do, the unG.o.dly flourishing like a green bay-tree."

"Of course," said Charles, shaking his head, "if that is your own experience, I bow before it; but for my own part, I must confess I have not found it so. Flourish like a green bay-tree! No, Aunt Mary, it is a fallacy; they don't: I am sure I only wish they did. But I see the rehearsal is beginning. May I give you an arm to the hall?"

The offer was entirely disregarded, and it was with the help of mine that Lady Mary retired from an unequal combat, which she never seemed able to resist provoking anew, and in which she was invariably worsted, causing her, as I could see, to regard Charles with the concentrated bitterness of which a severely good woman alone is capable.

I soon perceived that Charles was on the same amicable terms with his father; that they rarely spoke, and that it was evidently only with a view to keeping up appearances that he was ever invited to the paternal roof at all. Between the brothers, however, in spite of so much to estrange them, a certain kindliness of feeling seemed to exist, which was hardly to have been expected under the circ.u.mstances.

The rehearsal now began, and Sir George Danvers, who had remained behind to put by the jewels, and lock them up in his strong-box among his papers, came and sat down by me, again thanking me for taking charge of them, though I a.s.sured him it had been very little trouble.

"Not much trouble, perhaps, but a great responsibility," he said, courteously.

"A soldier, Sir George," I replied, with a slight smile, "becomes early inured to the gravest responsibility. It is the air we breathe; it is taken as a matter of course."

He looked keenly at me, and was silent, as if considering something--perhaps what I had said.

I was delighted to find the play was one of those which I had seen acted during our pa.s.sage home. There is nothing I like so much as knowing a play beforehand, because then one can always whisper to one's companion what is coming next. The stage, with all its adjustments, had been carefully arranged, the foot-lights were lighted, the piece began. All went well till nearly the end of the first act, when there was a cry behind the scenes of "Mr. Denis!" Mr. Denis should have rushed on, but Mr. Denis did not rush on. The play stopped. Mr. Denis was not in the library, the improvised greenroom; Mr. Denis did not appear when his name was called in stentorian tones by Ralph, or in pathetic falsetto by Charles. In short, Mr. Denis was not forthcoming. A rush up-stairs on the part of most of the young men brought to light the awful fact that Mr. Denis had retired to his chamber, a prey to sudden and acute indisposition.

"Dear me!" said Charles to Lady Mary, with a dismal shake of his head, "how precarious is life! Here to-day, and in bed to-morrow. Support your aunt Mary, my dear Evelyn; she wishes to retire to rest. Indeed, we may as well all go to bed, for there will be no more acting to-night without poor Denis. I only trust he may be spared to us till to-morrow, and that he may be well enough to die by my hand to-morrow evening."

We all dispersed for the night in some anxiety. The play could not proceed without Mr. Denis, who took an important part; and Sir George ruefully informed me that all the neighboring houses had been filled for these theatricals, and that great numbers of people were expected. There was to be dancing afterwards, but the princ.i.p.al feature of the entertainment was the play. We all retired to rest, fervently hoping that the health of Mr. Denis might be restored by the following morning.

CHAPTER VI.

But far from being better the following morning, Denis was much worse.

Charles, who had sat up most of the night with him, and who came down to breakfast more cool and indifferent than ever, at once extinguished any hope that still remained that he would be able to take his part that night.

Great was the consternation of the whole party. A vague feeling of resentment against Denis prevailed among the womankind, who, having all preserved their own healths intact for the occasion (and each by her own account was a chronic invalid), felt it was extremely inconsiderate, not to say indelicate, of "a great man like him" to spoil everything by being laid up at the wrong moment.

But what was to be done? Denis was ill, and without Denis the play could not proceed. Must the whole thing be given up? There was a general chorus of lamentation.

"I see no alternative," said Charles, "unless some Curtius will leap into the gulf, and go through the piece reading the part, and that is always a failure at the best of times."

At that moment I had an idea; it broke upon me like a flash of lightning: _Valentine Carr_! I had seen him act the very part Denis was to have taken, in the theatricals on the steamer. How wonderfully fortunate that it should have occurred to me!

I told Charles that I had a friend who had acted that part only the week before.

"_You!_" cried Charles, losing all his customary apathy--"you don't say so! Great heavens, where is he? Out with him! Where is he at this moment? England, Ireland, Scotland, or Wales? Where is this treasure concealed?"

"Oh, Colonel Middleton! Oh, how delightful!" cried a number of gentle voices; and I was instantly surrounded, and all manner of questions put to me. Would he come? Was he tall? And oh! _had_ he a beard? He had not a beard, had he? because it would not do for the part. Did he act well?

When had he acted? Where had he acted?

Sir George interrupted the torrent of interrogation.

"Do you think he would come?" he asked.

"I am almost sure he would," I said; "he is a great friend of mine."