ten andeleven that night. "What girl's confidence am I to be worried, with?"
"No girl's confidence, as you are pleased to call it, George. Nowlisten. Our father must not see Mr Chillingfleet in the morning. He_must_ not--he _shall_ not. You, George, must prevent it."
"I must prevent it! Is that what you have kept me out of my bed to say?Upon my word, Rose, you are unreasonable. Pray tell me how I am tokeep my father from doing what he wishes."
"Oh! George, you are very clever, and you can find a way when I--Ican't, although I'd give all the world to. George, George! he must notsee Mr Chillingfleet, and this is the reason."
Then I told my story. I told it quite calmly and without any outwardshow of shame. I found as I talked that I had grown accustomed to thistragedy, that the first edge of its agony was blunted to me.
I was not prepared, however, for the effect it had on my brother. As mystory proceeded I saw all the colour leave George's large,healthily-tinted face; drops of perspiration stood on his forehead. Hetook out his handkerchief and wiped the moisture from his lips and brow.
When I ceased speaking he sank down on the nearest chair. I hadexpected a perfect storm of angry and bitter words. George did notutter one.
"Well?" I could not help saying at last.
"Well," he answered, "there's an end of everything, that's all. I meantto ask an honest girl with a nice little bit of money to be my wife. Ithought I'd ask her next Sunday. I love her, too, 'tisn't on account ofthe money; that's at an end. She shan't ever say she married thebrother of a thief!"
"Oh! George, don't be too hard on him. He was sorely tempted, and heis so young."
"Am I hard on him, Rose? Am I saying anything?"
"George, dear brother, I wish I could help you."
"You can't; I'm off to bed now."
"George, you will keep this from my father?"
"Rather!"
"You will manage that he shall not see Mr Chillingfleet?"
"I will manage that he never hears the story you have told me to-night.Good-night, Rose."
"Kiss me, George. Oh! George, I'm bitterly sorry for you."
I ran after him and flung my arms round his neck, and gave him what weused in the old childish days to call a bear's hug.
When I pressed my lips to his cheek I saw tears in his eyes.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
MY BROTHER'S SIN.
When George left my room I sat down near my dressing-table, and tocomfort myself after all the worries of the day, took out my ruby ringto feast my eyes on its beauty. I had a vision of George's face withthe queer pallor on it. I heard again his voice as he spoke of the girlwho had a little money, and whom he loved--the girl, however, who wouldnever now be asked to be his wife. My brother George was a hard man,but he was righteous, he was honourable. I respected him for his words;and at that moment I pitied the girl who would lose him because ofJack's sin.
"Oh, Jack, Jack, what have you done to us all?" I cried aloud.
How pitiable is weakness; how mean is cowardice; and of all things, howdreadful is that _moral_ cowardice which leads men into crooked ways.Oh, Jack, if only you had told us about Hetty, and not stooped to theftfor her sake.
I wiped some slow tears from my eyes. I was determined that my regretsshould not overmaster me. I looked down at the ruby ring on my finger;it had the usual effect upon me; banishing my anxieties, lifting my mindfrom the sordidness of my surroundings, and taking me with it into aland of dreams, loveliness, and hope.
I said to myself, "Now I will touch the secret spring. Now, littlering, you shall open your heart and show me the very depths of yoursecret life. First, however, I shall make an illumination in yourhonour." I opened my trunk; took out my bits of candles and lightedthem; turned the key in the lock of my door, and sat down again by thedressing-table. It did not take me long to discover the slight nick bythe serpent's eye. I pressed my finger lightly on the spring, and to myjoy the central splendid ruby revolved aside on its hidden hinge, andthe serpents with their brilliant flashing eyes moved apart like doors.The inner mechanism of the ring was bare; the tiny, hidden chamber wasopen.
"What a secret I could put in here!" I said to myself. "Some hairsfrom a beloved head might be buried here along with thousands ofbrilliant hopes. Love itself could lie hidden here to leap into lifeand fulness when the right moment came." I wondered if love, with histhousand hopes and fears, could ever in such a sense come to me.Scarcely likely. I was one of the women who, in all probability, wouldnever marry. I should have a strong life and plenty to do. I shouldhave a courageous life and many battles to fight; but it was scarcelylikely that my portion in the book of fate could also include thepassionate lover, the tender and devoted husband, and the clinging, softlove which would come from baby lips, and enter into my heart throughsweet child voices.
I expected none of these things, and yet the trembling desire to graspthem all, to claim them all, to cry to fortune, "Give, give, give fully,give abundantly; don't starve _me_, but feed me until my whole nature issatisfied," swept over me as I looked into the heart of the ruby ring.
As I did so I noticed for the first time that the little recess, whichappeared at the first glance to be quite empty, contained a tiny pieceof paper, which might have been placed there as a bed on which to lay atreasure. The paper was white, of the finest texture, exquisitely cutto fit the exact shape of the chamber. There was nothing whateverwritten on the paper. I touched it with the point of my small finger,it did not move; I pressed it, it did not stir.
I was about to close the ring, but something induced me to look againmore narrowly at the paper. Why was it put there? Why did it take upspace so minute, so valuable?
I put my hand into my pocket, and taking out a penknife, opened thesmallest blade and inserted the point delicately under the paper. Aftera very slight resistance, I detached it from the base of the littlesecret chamber. I took it out of the ring, and laid it on the palm ofmy hand. There was no writing on the upper surface of the paper. Ilooked underneath and saw, to my amazement, that something was faintlyciphered there. The writing was perfect, but so minute that I could notpossibly read it with my naked eye. My mother possessed amongst hertreasures an old microscope.
I guessed shrewdly, although she never told me so, that this microscopehad been given to her by Cousin Geoffrey. My mother kept her microscopeon her own little work-table in the drawing-room.
The house was quiet now; all its inhabitants, with the exception ofmyself, asleep and in bed. I knew there was little chance of sleep forme that night.
Placing the treasured morsel of paper under a glass on mydressing-table, I slipped off my shoes, softly unlocked my door, and randown-stairs. I felt provoked with the small and poor cottage stairs forcreaking so desperately. I reached the drawing-room, however, withoutdisturbing any one, found the microscope, and brought it back in triumphto my room.
Again I locked my door, and opening the microscope, took out thestrongest lens it possessed. I arranged the lens as I had seen mymother do; steadied the candles until I managed to secure a powerful rayof direct light; placed the morsel of paper under the magnifier, andapplied my eye to the glass.
The minute writing was now magnified some hundreds of times. So largelywas it increased that I could not see the whole of the writing at once.In large type I read, however, the following words:
"Look in the--"
I felt myself trembling all over. Where was I to look? Why was I tolook? Was the ruby ring going to tell me a secret? Was it going toconfide to me--to me, the mystery of Cousin Geoffrey's unknown heir?
With great difficulty, and with fingers that trembled, I moved themorsel of paper until I got the microscope to bear on the remainingwords of the sentence. They came out clear at last. Clear and largethey flashed upon my vision.
The conclusion of the sentence was as follows:
"Chamber of Myths."
The ruby ring had given up its secret; it had
brought me a message.
"Look in the Chamber of Myths."
"Yes," I said, "I will look there to-morrow."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
GEOFFREY RUTHERFORD'S KEYS.
It is scarcely to be wondered at when I say that I did not close my eyesthat night. I arose early the following morning, determined to lose notime in seeking Mr Gray, and receiving a renewed order to visit CousinGeoffrey's house. I rose long before dawn, dressed myself neatly, andwent down-stairs. I felt far too excited to remain in bed any longer.It was still dark when I entered our tiny drawing-room, but I busiedmyself in helping our one servant to clean and tidy the littlesitting-room. She polished the grate and laid the fire, and I put amatch to it and caused it to blaze up merrily.
"Oh, Miss Rosamund, you are