Loe raamatut: «A Ring of Rubies», lehekülg 3

My mother smiled and said no more. I left the room, knowing that she would make no opposition to my going to town on the following morning.

When the day broke, I got up early, for I felt too restless to sleep. I wore my best dress when I came down to breakfast; and when my father and brothers were ready to start for London, I accompanied them.

On the way up I noticed how ill Jack looked. He had a much nicer face than George, and I could have been fond of him had he ever shown the slightest desire to win my regard. But from his babyhood he was reserved and morose, and shared my father’s ideas with regard to women. Jack was serving his time to a solicitor in the City. At present he was earning no money, but the happy day when he could add to the family purse, and so relieve some of the dreadful burden of penury and scanty living, was not far distant. In two months’ time he was to earn sufficient to pay his weekly mite to the household exchequer.

George, who was three years older than Jack, was doing quite comfortably as a clerk at Lloyd’s, and already spoke of taking a wife, and having a home of his own. I used to wonder what sort of a girl George would marry. I must frankly say I did not envy her her husband.

This morning I found myself seated by Jack’s side in the railway carriage.

“How is your headache?” I whispered to him.

He looked round and favoured me with an almost glassy stare. He knew I spoke to him, but had not heard my question. I repeated it.

“Oh, better, better,” he said hurriedly. “Don’t speak of it, there’s a good girl,” and he lay back against the cushions and closed his eyes.

I felt sure at once it was not better, but it was like Jack to shut himself out from all sympathy.

We got to Paddington in good time, and I once more found myself in an omnibus which would convey me to Regent Circus. Presently I got there. I had made all my plans beforehand. I was a curious mixture of the practical and romantic, and I thought it best not to rely entirely on myself in choosing the jeweller who would value my ring. I wanted to get at the real value, and a jeweller who naturally would suppose I wished him to be a purchaser, would think it his province to run the ring down. I knew a girl from our village, who was serving her time now to a dressmaker in Great Portland Street. The girl’s name was Susan Ford. She had often helped me to turn my dresses, and was a very sensible, matter-of-fact, honest sort of girl. I knew she would do anything for me, and as she had been over a year in London, she must have a tolerably wide experience to guide her.

Regent Circus was only a few steps from Madame Leroy’s address. The house bore the customary brass plate on its door. I pulled the bell, and a boy in buttons answered my summons.

“Is Susan Ford in?” I asked.

The boy stared at me from head to foot, and made a supercilious and irrelevant reply.

I saw at once that people who called to see the apprentices must not expect politeness from the buttons. Nevertheless I held my ground, and said firmly that I wished to see Susan Ford if she could be spared to speak to me.

“I’ll take up your name, and inquire,” Buttons finally condescended to say.

I said I was Miss Lindley, from Thorpdale. I was then requested to wait in the hall, where I sat and shivered for quite five minutes. At the end of that time Susan, jubilant with smiles, joined me.

“Oh, Miss Rosamund, how kind of you! How very kind – I am delighted!”

“Susan, I particularly want to ask your advice. Would it be possible for you to come out with me for a little?”

“Oh, miss, I’d like to, awfully, but I’m afraid it’s against the rules. Still, it would be a treat to take a walk with you, miss, and Madame Leroy is very good-natured. I have a good mind to try if she’d spare me for an hour; we are not particularly full of orders just now.”

“All right, Susan, do your best, for I really want your help,” I answered.

Susan nodded and disappeared. In an incredibly short space of time she returned, wearing a very smart jacket and stylish hat. Oh, how dowdy I looked by her side!

“I’m just given an hour, Miss Rosamund,” she said.

The moment we got into the street I told her what I wanted.

“I have got a curious old ring with me,” I said, “very old-fashioned; I want to find out what it really is worth. Do you know an honest jeweller who will tell me the truth, Susan?”

Susan’s eyes sparkled.

“There’s lots of jewellers in Oxford Street, miss,” she said.

“I don’t wish to go to one of them. They will fancy I want to sell, and will run my ring down.”

“Then,” proceeded Susan, “there are men, Jews, most of them, who lend ornaments to my missis, which she hires out to her ladies.”

Susan’s eyes shone very brightly when she revealed this little secret to her country friend.

“Another time you shall tell me more about these jewellers,” I replied. “But they surely would be the least honest of all, and could not help us to-day. Susan, you must think again.”

“I know an apprentice,” said Susan. “And he’s very clever, and – and – wonderful on stones, Miss Rosamund.”

“Ah, I thought you were the girl for me to come to, Susan. This apprentice is just the person whom we want. Where does he live?”

“Well, miss, if you’ll come with me now we’ll catch him just before he goes to his dinner. Sam is honest, if you like, miss, blunt I call him.”

“Take me to Sam without a moment’s delay,” I said.

We walked quickly, and presently found ourselves in Hanway Street. We turned into a small shop. A lad of about twenty was selling a china cup and saucer to an old lady.

The shop was full of all kinds of dirty, quaint, curious things. It reminded me a little bit of Cousin Geoffrey’s house. The lad had red hair; he winked at Susan, and I saw at once that I was in the presence of Sam.

Presently the lady customer left the shop in a considerable huff, and without the cup and saucer.

“She’ll come back fast enough, I’ve hooked her,” said Sam. “The old ’un’ll be pleased. I most times hook a couple of customers in the morning, and the old ’un is always delighted. Your pleasure, ladies? How do, Susan?”

All the favourable opinion I had formed of Susan Ford was abundantly verified by her conduct during this interview. Sam examined the ruby ring from every possible point of view, he squinted frightfully over it. He turned on the gas, and caused its rays to pierce through the heart of the gems. They leaped up as if with living fire.

Presently he said that it was his bounden duty to consult the old ’un. Before I could expostulate he had vanished with the ring into an inner sanctum. He came back in the course of ten minutes.

“How will you take it, miss?” he said. “In notes or gold?”

For a moment I felt too petrified to speak.

“What do you mean?” I presently gasped. “I don’t want to sell the ring.”

“Oh, come now, miss, that’s a good ’un! You know better than that. Don’t she, Miss Ford?”

Susan bridled and got very red when she was addressed as Miss Ford. But, being my staunch friend, she came quickly to the rescue.

“Miss Lindley knows her own mind, Sam,” she said severely. “She don’t want to sell the ring, only to value it.”

Sam, looking intensely mysterious and amused, darted once more into the back room.

“I wish he would give me back my ring,” I said to Susan.

“Oh, it’s all right, you let Sam manage it his own way,” retorted Susan.

After what seemed an interminable five minutes, Sam returned. His face was now quite pale, and his voice had an awe-struck sound about it.

“I never knew anything like it,” he said, “never in all my life, but it’s true for all that. The old ’un’ll give you one hundred and fifty pounds for the ring, miss.”

I was nineteen years old, and I had never in the whole course of my life possessed ten pounds at a time. The idea, therefore, of walking out of that shop with one hundred and fifty pounds in notes and gold, all my own, my very own, was something of a temptation. Nevertheless I stood firm.

“I don’t mean to sell the ring,” I said, “whatever it is valued at. I know now that it is worth not only one hundred and fifty pounds, but a considerable sum more. I cannot, however, get the exact value out of your master, as he wants to become the purchaser. I will, therefore, say good-morning. Come, Susan.” Susan, casting a somewhat withering glance at Sam, followed me into Hanway Street, and we presently found ourselves back again at the large house in Great Portland Street.

“Good-bye, miss,” said Susan. “I wish with all my heart I could ask you in, but I can’t, and there’s an end. I’d be delighted to help you in any other way, miss, about the ring, and if ever you do want to sell, I have no doubt Sam and his master will still hold to their offer.”

“Yes, but I shall never want to sell my ring,” I replied somewhat proudly. Then I bade Susan a hearty good-bye and returned to Oxford Street.

I had some idea of calling on Mr Gray, of taking him into my confidence, of asking him to advise me as to the best means of becoming a pupil at the Slade School. But I abandoned this idea for the present, and decided to take the next train home to my mother. Before doing this I went into Peter Robinson’s, and purchased two yards of delicate pearl-grey ribbon to put in her best cap.

“Sweet, pretty mother!” I said to myself. “How I should like to buy real Honiton lace to trim that cap, and a pearl-grey silk dress to match this ribbon; and how I should love to give her the daintiest food and the most beautiful luxurious home, and to take away that coarse darning, and that rough horrid mending, and that grinding poverty for ever.”

I could do a great deal if I sold Cousin Geoffrey’s ring. A great deal, but not all, and I must not part in a hurry with a legacy which was not only beautiful, but had such a substantial money-value.

I popped my bit of ribbon, therefore, into my pocket, looked sadly at the few remaining shillings in my purse, and took the next train back to Thorpdale.

I arrived at Ivy Lodge in time for an afternoon cup of tea with my mother. I was very hungry, for I had not ventured on the extravagance of lunch in town, and while I ate, I regaled her with the account of my morning’s adventures. She was by no means astonished when she heard that the old Jew dealer had offered me one hundred and fifty pounds for the ring.

“It is worth a good deal more than that,” she said. “I know the centre ruby has been priced at a very high figure by more than one connoisseur. Nevertheless, you are not going to sell the ring, are you, Rosamund?”

“It would pay my expenses at the Slade,” I said somewhat mischievously.

My mother was about to reply when we were both startled by hearing the sound of a latch-key in the hall-door lock. I opened the door of the little drawing-room and peeped out.

“Jack!” I exclaimed. “What has brought you back at this hour?”

“My headache is worse,” he replied, “I could not stay in town, so I came home.”

“Oh, I am sorry,” I said. “Mother, Jack has come home with a bad headache.”

My mother stepped into the hall.

“You are looking very ill indeed,” she exclaimed.

Jack growled in that peculiarly ungracious way which always drove me wild when it was addressed to our mother.

“I am not ill,” he said. “What a fuss women make! I have just got a beastly headache.”

“Come into the drawing-room, and have a cup of tea, my dear boy.”

“I could not sit up, thank you, mother. I’ll go to my room, and see what a stretch on the bed and a nap will do for me. If Rosamund likes to be good-natured, she can bring me up some tea in half an hour.”

I did not particularly wish to be good-natured; nevertheless, at the time specified I took the tea to Jack. He sat up when I entered the room; there were feverish spots on his cheeks.

“Bother that tea!” he exclaimed. “Put it down, and shut the door, Rosamund. Now come over, and sit near me. If I don’t tell you what is the matter, I shall go mad.”

Chapter Four
Borrowed!

I sat down at once by Jack’s bedside.

“What are you going to tell me?” I asked.

“How prosaic you are, Rose.”

“Well, you never like me to make a fuss.”

“That is true, and no doubt you will act sensibly in the present emergency. It is nice to be pitied, and affection is of value, but sense, oh yes, unquestionably common sense comes first of all.” I could not help gazing at Jack with wide-open round eyes while he was speaking.

“You never in your whole life asked me to show feeling or affection,” I managed to gasp out. “What do you mean by regretting it now? Your head must be wandering.”

“Well, well, Rose, perhaps it is. It certainly aches badly enough to account for any vagaries in my speech. But now to business – or rather to the kernel of the matter. Rose, I am going to be very ill, very dangerously ill – do you understand?”

“I hope I don’t, Jack. You have a bad headache, which will soon get better.”

“I repeat, I am going to be dangerously ill. I have taken fever. I know the symptoms, for I have watched them in another.”

“In another? Whom do you mean? When have you been with a fever-stricken patient?”

“You will start when you hear my next words. I have been nursing my wife through fever.”

“Jack – your wife! Are you married? Oh, Jack!”

“Well, go on, Rosamund. Get over your astonishment. Say, ‘Oh Jack!’ as often as you like, only believe in the fact without my having to repeat it to you. I am married. My wife has scarlet fever; I have nursed her till I could hold up no longer, and now I have taken it myself.”

I looked full into my brother’s face. It was flushed now, and his brown eyes were bright. He was a big fellow, and he looked absolutely handsome as he sat up in bed with the fever gleam shining through his eyes, and a certain sad droop about his still boyish mouth. I own that I never found Jack so interesting before. He had behaved very badly, of course, in marrying any one secretly, but he was the hero of a romance. He had feeling and affection. I quite loved him. I bent forward and kissed him on his cheek.

“Go on,” I said. “You want me to help you. Tell me all the story as quickly as you can.”

“But you will shrink from me when you know all.”

“No, I promise that I won’t. Now do go on.”

“I believe I must tell you quickly, for this pain rages and rages, and I can scarcely collect my thoughts. Now then, Rosamund, these are the bare facts. Six months ago I fell in love with Hetty. Her other name doesn’t matter, and who she was doesn’t matter. I used to meet her in the mornings when she walked to a school where she was teaching. We were married and I took her to some lodgings in Putney.”

“But you had no money.”

“Well, I had scarcely any. I used to make an odd pound now and then by bringing home work to copy, and Hetty did not lose her situation as teacher. She still went to the school, and she told no one of her marriage. I meant to break it to you all when I began to get my salary, for you know my time of apprenticeship will expire at Christmas. Things wouldn’t have turned out so badly, for Hetty has the simplest tastes, poor little darling, if she had not somehow or other got this horrible scarlet fever. She was so afraid I’d take her to the hospital; but not I! – the landlady and I nursed her between us.”

“But, Jack, where did you get the money?” The heavy flush got deeper on my brother’s brow. He turned his head away, and his manner became almost gruff.

“That’s the awkward part,” he growled. “I – I borrowed the money.”

“From whom?”

“Chillingfleet.”

“Mr Chillingfleet? He’s the head of your firm, isn’t he?”

“Yes, yes. I went into his room one day. His private drawer was open; I took four five-pound notes. That was last Monday. He won’t miss them until next Monday – the day he makes up his accounts. I thought Hetty was dying, and the notes stared me in the face, and I – I borrowed them. He has tens of thousands of pounds, and I – I borrowed twenty.”

“Jack – Jack – you stole them!”

I covered my face with my hands; I trembled all over.

“Oh, don’t, Rose! call me by every ugly name you like – there, I know I’m a brute.”

“No, you’re not,” I said. I had recovered myself by this time. I looked at his poor flushed face, at his trembling hands. He was a thief, he had brought disgrace upon our poor but honest name, but at this moment I loved him fifty times better than George.

“Listen to me, Jack,” I said. “I won’t say one other word to abuse you at present. What’s more, I will do what I can to help you.”

“God bless you, Rosamund. You don’t really mean that? Really and truly?”

“I really and truly mean it. Now lie down and let me put these sheets straight. This is Friday. Something can be done between now and Monday. Are you quite sure that Mr Chillingfleet will not find out the loss of the notes before Monday?”

“Yes, he always banks on Monday, and he makes up his accounts then. Rose, you have got no money; you cannot save me.”

“I have certainly got no money, Jack, but I have got woman’s wit. Have you spent all the twenty pounds?”

“Every farthing. I owed a lot to Mrs Ashton, Hetty’s landlady.”

“Now you must give me Hetty’s address.”

“Oh, I say, Rose, you are a brick! Are you going to see her?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Are you going to-day?”

“I’ll go, if I possibly can.”

“You must be very gentle with her, remember.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And for goodness’ sake don’t frighten her about me.”

“No.”

“You must make up some kind of excuse about me. You must on no account let out that I have caught this horrible thing. Do you understand, Rosamund, if Hetty finds this out it will kill her at once.”

“I’ll do my very best for you, Jack. I won’t do anything to injure Hetty. I don’t know her, but I think I can promise that. Now, please, give me her address.”

“Twenty-four, Peacock Buildings, fourth story, care of Mrs Ashton. When you get to Putney, you turn down Dorset Street, and it’s the fifth turning to the right. Can you remember?”

“Yes, yes. Now lie still. I am going to send mother to you.”

When I reached the door, I turned and looked back. Jack was gazing wistfully after me, his eyes were full of tears.

“Rose, you’re a brick,” said the poor fellow; and then he turned his face to the wall. I closed the door very softly and went down to the drawing-room where mother sat.

I went up to her, and took the mending out of her thin, white hands, and bending down kissed her.

“What is the matter, Rose, my dear?” she said. We were not a family for embraces, and she wondered at this mark of demonstration. When she raised her eyes to my face, she could not restrain a little cry, for with all my efforts I did not absolutely conceal the marks of strong emotion.

“Mother,” I said, “you must put away your mending for the present.”

“Why so, my dear? I am particularly anxious to get on with this invisible darning, for I wish to begin to refront Jack’s shirts to-morrow.”

“The shirts must keep, mother. Jack wants you for something else just now – he is very ill.”

“Ill? Poor fellow, he did look as if he had a bad headache.”

“Yes, I think we ought to send for Mr Ray.”

“What! For the doctor? Because of a headache? Rose, dear, are you getting fanciful?”

“I trust not, mother, but I really think Jack is ill, and I am afraid it is more than a headache that ails him.”

“What do you know about illness, child?”

“Well, mother dear, go up yourself and see.” My mother went softly out of the room. Her light footsteps ascended the creaking stairs. I heard her open Jack’s bedroom door and shut it behind her. In about five minutes she had rejoined me in the drawing-room.

“Rose, will you put on your hat, and go round to Mr Ray, and ask him to call at once.”

My mother now spoke as if the idea of fetching the doctor had originated with herself.

“Jack is very ill, Rose,” she said, looking at me, pathetically.

“Yes, mother, I fear he is. Now, listen to me, please; if you are going to nurse him, you are not to be tired in any way; you are to have no anxieties down-stairs. When I go out, mother, I am going to fetch in Jane Fleming as well as Mr Ray.”

Jane Fleming was a very capable woman who lived in the village; she could take the part of housekeeper, nurse, cook, dressmaker, as occasion offered. She was quiet and taciturn, and kept herself, as the neighbours said, “to herself.” I felt that Jane would be a safe person to listen to Jack’s wanderings, and that my mother might safely sleep while Jane watched by the sick man’s side.

Accordingly I said, “I will fetch in Jane Fleming,” and I turned a deaf ear when my mother murmured the word expense.

“If the worst comes I will sell the ruby ring,” I thought to myself, “but I won’t sell it unless all other resources fail me.”

I put on my hat and jacket and went out. The shades of evening were already falling. I was dreadfully afraid that I might meet my father and George. I did not wish to see them at that moment. I felt that their coldness and want of sympathy would unnerve me. They would have every reason to be cold, for why should they fuss themselves over Jack’s bad headache? and yet I, knowing the tragedy which lay beneath that apparently commonplace pain, felt that I could not stand the slight sneer of indifference which would greet my announcement at that moment. Jack, compared to George and my father, was a very black sinner indeed. The cardinal sin of theft could be laid at his door. He was guilty of gross deception; he was weak, he was imprudent, nay more, he was mad, for by what sacred right had he bound his own life to that of another, when it was impossible for him to fulfil the vows he had taken?

And yet, Jack, I loved you better than I had ever done before in my whole life at that moment; now in your pain, your helplessness, your degradation, I would spare you even from a sneer. You trusted me, Jack, and I resolved to prove myself worthy of your trust, and, if possible, if in any way within my power, to save you.

I walked down the village street, and reached Jane Fleming’s house. She was ironing some collars in her neat kitchen.

“Jane,” I said, “my brother Jack is ill, and mother wants you to go up and help to nurse him.”

“Yes, Miss Rosamund,” replied Jane, in her quiet, unsurprised way. “Am I likely to be required for the night, miss?”

“Yes, Jane, you certainly are.”

“I’ll be at Ivy Lodge in ten minutes, miss,” replied Jane Fleming.

I left the house without another word. Mr Ray lived a little farther off, but I was lucky in finding him also at home. I asked him to call to see Jack at once, and then I turned off in the direction of the railway station. I must be really wary now, for it would be fatal to Jack’s peace of mind were my father and George to see me going to town at that hour. I managed to elude them, however, and going into the ladies’ waiting-room scribbled a little note to my mother.

“Dear mother,” I said, “you must not be at all anxious. I am going to town on important business for Jack. Don’t on any account tell father and George, and expect me home some time to-morrow.”

I gave my note to a small boy who was lounging about outside the station. He was to deliver the little note into Jane Fleming’s hands. No one else was to get it. I knew Jane sufficiently well to be sure she would give it to my mother unobserved.

Shortly afterwards my train came up, and I found myself being whirled back to London in a second-class compartment. Fares were cheap on our line, and I was relieved to find that I had five shillings still untouched in my purse. I got to Paddington in a little over half an hour, – the train I travelled by was an express, – and then stepping into an omnibus I was carried slowly, and with many provoking delays, to Regent Circus. I had never been in London by night before, and the dazzling lights and pushing crowds would have nonplussed me considerably another time. Under ordinary circumstances I might have felt uncomfortable and even a little afraid. Every idea of strict propriety in which I had been brought up would have protested against the situation in which I had placed myself. I was a lady, a very young lady, and it was not correct for me to perambulate these gaslit streets alone.

As it turned out, however, I had no time for fear, nor was there the smallest cause for alarm. No one noticed the plainly, almost dowdily dressed girl, as with dull apprehension in her eyes, and a queer reserve fund of fortitude in her heart, she hurried along.

I soon reached the house I had visited early in the morning, and almost gave Buttons an electric shock by once more inquiring for Susan Ford. I knew that it was necessary to propitiate Buttons, and poor as I was I expended sixpence on that worthy.

“Go and tell Susan that I must see her without fail, and at once,” I said.

Buttons stuck his tongue into his cheek, very nearly winked at me, but refrained, and promising to do his best, vanished.

Susan was evidently busy at this hour. I sat for nearly a quarter of an hour in that cold stone-flagged hall waiting for her. She came down at last, looking perplexed and even cross.

“My missis is in a temper, Miss Rosamund. Of course I’m delighted to see you, miss, but I can’t stay; I really can’t. We’re all in no end of confusion up-stairs. Oh, Miss Rosamund, you do look cold and white! I wish I could take you up to my room, but I just daren’t. Is there anything I could do for you, miss? Please say it as quick as you can.”

I clutched hold of Susan’s shoulder.

“You know the ring,” I said.

“Oh yes, miss; you don’t want me to go back to Sam with it now, miss?”

“No, no, no! I am not going to sell my precious ruby ring; but, Susan, you said to-day that your mistress sometimes hired out jewels. Fine ladies, who wanted to look extra fine, borrowed jewels. Of course, when they borrowed, they paid. Look at my ring once again, Susan. See! Here under the gas-lamp, does it not sparkle? Would not the gems look well on a small, fair hand?”

While I was speaking Susan remained motionless, but I noticed that she began to breathe hard and quick.

“I do believe that this will set everything right,” she said, “I do most positively believe it. You give me the ring, miss, and stay here. I’ll be back in a minute; don’t you stir till I come back to you, Miss Rosamund.”

“Listen, Susan, I must have money for the ring, money down. The more you can get the better, and I’ll hire it out for one night only. Remember that, Susan, I only hire out the ring for one night.”

“All right, miss, give me the ring at once. This may set matters straight again. There ain’t no saying. I’ll attend to all you want, Miss Rosamund, never you fear.”

Susan almost snatched the old-fashioned little case out of my hand, sprang up the stairs three steps at a time, and vanished.

I waited in the great, cold, empty hall with no other companion than my fast-beating heart.

I had a curious sense of loneliness and even desolation, now that I had parted with the ring. It seemed to me that Cousin Geoffrey was near, and that he was looking at me reproachfully. I almost regretted what I had done; if I had known where to find Susan I would have rushed after her, and asked her for my ring back.

As it was, I had to restrain my impatience as best I could. Perhaps Susan would be unsuccessful; perhaps in a moment or two she would bring me back the ring. She did nothing of the kind. She kept me waiting for a quarter of an hour, then she came back with five pounds in her hand.

“My missis is awfully obliged to you, Miss Rosamund, and – and here’s five sovereigns, miss. I couldn’t get more, I couldn’t really.”

“And my ring, Susan, my ring?”

“You’ll have it back to-morrow, miss.”

“But is my precious ring safe? Is it in the house? Where is it?”

“Where is your ring, Miss Rosamund?” Susan stared at me, and spoke almost pettishly. “Didn’t you say you wanted to hire the ring out, miss? Well, and haven’t I done it? The ring is out – it’s seeing company to-night, that ruby ring; it’s having a fine time; it belongs to grand folk for the night, and it’s seeing life, that’s what it is. Oh, I wish I was it! I think, Miss Rosamund, that ring is going to have a lovely time.”

“And you’re sure I shall have it back by to-morrow?”

“Why, of course, miss. You come here about twelve o’clock. I shouldn’t be surprised if Madame wanted to do another hire with it; she seemed mighty taken with the big ruby, and I dare say the young lady who wears it to-night may want it again. But of course that’s as you please, miss.”

“Of course, Susan. Well, I am very much obliged to you, and I will call to-morrow at noon.” I slipped the five sovereigns into my purse, shook hands with Susan, and left the house. I felt wonderfully independent; the touch of the gold had done this. It was marvellous with what a sense of power I now looked around me. I felt at that instant what a gulf there was between the rich and the poor. With five shillings I could be timid; with five pounds I could be wonderfully calm, collected, and brave.

I walked as composedly down the gaslit streets as if I had done so every evening of my life. I entered a grocer’s shop and bought half a pound of tea, very good tea. I also bought sugar, Brand’s meat jelly, and a pound of paraffin candles. As I was leaving the shop I thought how fond mother was of rusks when she was ill. I turned back and got some. I was now quite laden with parcels, and as I knew I must purchase several more, and could not possibly carry them all in my hands, the next thing was to secure a basket. I was not long in discovering a sort of bazaar, where miscellaneous articles of every description were to be had. I chose a serviceable basket, paid for it, popped my groceries in, and went out. I soon added to the store a chicken, two pounds of beef for beef-tea, a loaf of bread, and some fresh butter. Finally I placed on the top of the basket a bunch of fine hothouse grapes, two or three lemons, some oranges, and, lastly, a great lovely bunch of chrysanthemums.

Now, I felt that I was ready for Putney.

I retraced my steps to Regent Circus, and after a little delay found myself in an omnibus which would finally land me at Victoria.

I need not describe my brief journey to Putney; I had no adventures on the road. No one spoke rudely to me, or stared at me, or molested me in any fashion. The train was punctual, and my fellow-passengers civil.