"BLUE IS THE SWEETEST."
The following correspondence may now, without any great breach of
confidence, be published:
"EGLOSILYAN, Monday morning.
DEAR MR. TRELYON: Do you know what Mr. Roscorla says in the
letter Wenna has just received? Why, that you could not get
up that ring by dredging, but that you must have bought the
other one at Plymouth. Just think of the wicked old wretch
fancying such things! As if you would give a ring _of emeralds
to any one_! Tell me that this is a story, that I may bid
Wenna contradict him at once. I have got no patience with a man
who is given over to such mean suspicions. Yours faithfully,
MABYN ROSEWARNE."
"LONDON, Tuesday night.
Dear Mabyn: I am sorry to say Mr. Roscorla is right. It was a
foolish trick--I did not think it would be successful, for my
hitting the size of her finger was rather a stroke of luck--but
I thought it would amuse her if she did find it out after an
hour or two. I was afraid to tell her afterward, for she would
think it impertinent. What's to be done? Is she angry about it.
Yours sincerely,
HARRY TRELYON."
"EGLOSILYAN.
Dear Mr. Trelyon: How could you do such a thing? Why, to give
Wenna, of all people in the world, an emerald ring, just after I
had got Mr. Roscorla to give her one, for bad luck to himself!
Why, how could you do it? I don't know what to say about it,
unless you demand it back, _and send her one with sapphires in
it at once_.
Yours, M.R.
P.S.--As quick as ever you can."
"LONDON, Friday evening.
Dear Mabyn: Why, you know she wouldn't take a sapphire ring or
any other from me. Yours faithfully,
H. TRELYON."
"MY DEAR MR. TRELYON: Pray don't lose any time in writing, but
send me at once a sapphire ring for Wenna. You have hit the size
once, and you can do it again; but in any case I have marked the
size on this bit of thread, and the jeweler will understand. And
please, dear Mr. Trelyon, don't get a very expensive one, but a
plain, good one, just what a poor person like me would buy for a
present if I wanted to. And post it at once, please: _this is
very important_. Yours most sincerely,
MABYN ROSEWARNE."
In consequence of this correspondence Mabyn one morning proceeded to
seek out her sister, whom she found busy with the accounts of the sewing
club, which was now in a flourishing condition. Mabyn seemed a little
shy. "Oh, Wenna," she said, "I have something to tell you. You know I
wrote to ask Mr. Trelyon about the ring. Well, he's very, very
sorry--oh, you don't know how sorry he is, Wenna--but it's quite true.
He thought he'd please you by getting the ring, and that you would make
a joke of it when you found it out; and then he was afraid to speak of
it afterward."
Wenna had quietly slipped the ring off her finger. She betrayed no
emotion at the mention of Mr. Trelyon's name. Her face was a trifle red:
that was, all. "It was a stupid thing to do," she said, "but I suppose
he meant no harm. Will you send him back the ring?"
"Yes," she said eagerly. "Give me the ring, Wenna."
She carefully wrapped it up in a piece of paper and put it in her
pocket. Any one who knew her would have seen by her face that she meant
to give that ring short shrift. Then she said timidly, "You are not very
angry, Wenna?"
"No. I am sorry I should have vexed Mr. Roscorla by my carelessness."
"Wenna," the younger sister continued, even more timidly, "do you know
what I've heard about rings?--that when you've worn one for some time on
a finger, you ought never to leave it off altogether: I think it affects
the circulation, or something of that kind. Now, if Mr. Trelyon were to
send you another ring, just to--to keep the place of that one until Mr.
Roscorla came back--"
"Mabyn, you must be mad to think of such a thing," said her sister,
looking down.
"Oh yes," Mabyn said meekly, "I thought you wouldn't like the notion of
Mr. Trelyon giving you a ring. And so, dear Wenna, I've--I've got a ring
for you--you won't mind taking it from me--and if you do wear it on the
engaged finger, why, that doesn't matter, don't you see?"
She produced the ring of dark blue stones, and herself put it on Wenna's
finger.
"Oh, Mabyn," Wenna said, "how could you be so extravagant? And just
after you gave me that ten shillings for the Leans!"
"You be quiet," said Mabyn briskly, going off with a light look on her
face.
And yet there was some determination about her mouth. She hastily put on
her hat and went out. She took the path by the hillside over the little
harbor, and eventually she reached the face of the black cliff, at the
foot of which a gray-green sea was dashing in white masses of foam:
there was not a living thing around her but the choughs and daws, and
the white seagulls sailing overhead.
She took out a large sheet of brown paper and placed it on the ground.
Then she sought out a bit of rock weighing about two pounds. Then she
took out the little parcel which contained the emerald ring, tied it up
carefully along with the stone in the sheet of brown paper: finally, she
rose up to her full height and heaved the whole into the sea. A splash
down there, and that was all.
She clapped her hands with joy: "And now, my precious emerald ring,
that's the last of you, I imagine! And there isn't much chance of a fish
bringing you back, to make mischief with your ugly green stones."
Then she went home, and wrote this note:
"EGLOSILYAN, Monday.
DEAR MR. TRELYON: I have just thrown the emerald ring you gave
Wenna into the sea, and she wears the other one now _on her
engaged finger_, but she thinks I bought it. Did you ever
hear of an old-fashioned rhyme that is this?--
Oh, green is forsaken,
And yellow's forsworn;
And blue is thesweetest
Color that's worn.
You can't tell what mischief that emerald ring might not have
done. But the sapphires that Wenna is wearing now are perfectly
beautiful; and Wenna is not so heartbroken that she isn't very
proud of them. I never saw such a beautiful ring. Yours
sincerely,
MABYN ROSEWARNE.
P.S.--Are you never coming back to Eglosilyan any more?"
So the days went by, and Mabyn waited with a secret hope to see what
answer Mr. Roscorla would send to that letter of confession and
contrition Wenna had written to him at Penzance. The letter had been
written as an act of duty, and posted too; but there was no mail going
out for ten days thereafter, so that a considerable time had to elapse
before the answer came.
During that time Wenna went about her ordinary duties just as if there
was no hidden fire of pain consuming her heart; there was no word spoken
by her or to her of all that had recently occurred; her mother and
sister were glad to see her so continuously busy. At first she shrank
from going up to Trelyon Hall, and would rather have corresponded with
Mrs. Trelyon about their joint work of charity, but she conquered the
feeling, and went and saw the gentle lady, who perceived nothing altered
or strange in her demeanor. At last the letter from Jamaica came; and
Mabyn, having sent it up to her sister's room, waited for a few minutes,
and then followed it. She was a little afraid, despite her belief in the
virtues of the sapphire ring.
When she entered the room she uttered a slight cry of alarm and ran
forward to her sister. Wenna was seated on a chair by the side of the
bed, but she had thrown her arms out on the bed, her head was between
them, and she was sobbing as if her heart would break.
"Wenna, what is the matter? what has he said to you?"
Mabyn's eyes were all afire now. Wenna would not answer. She would not
even raise her head.
"Wenna, I want to see that letter."
"Oh no, no!" the girl moaned. "I deserve it: he says what is true. I
want you to leave me alone, Mabyn: you--you can't do anything to
help this."
But Mabyn had by this time perceived that her sister held in her hand,
crumpled up, the letter which was the cause of this wild outburst of
grief. She went forward and firmly took it out of the yielding fingers:
then she turned to the light and read it. "Oh, if I were a man!" she
said; and then the very passion of her indignation, finding no other
vent, filled her eyes with proud and angry tears. She forgot to rejoice
that her sister was now free. She only saw the cruel insult of those
lines, and the fashion in which it had struck down its victim. "Wenna,"
she said hotly, "you ought to have more spirit. You don't mean to say
you care for the opinion of a man who would write to any girl like that?
You ought to be precious glad that he has shown himself in his true
colors. Why, he never cared a bit for you--never!--or he would never
turn at a moment's notice and insult you."
"I have deserved it all; it is every word of it true; he could not have
written otherwise." That was all that Wenna would say between her sobs.
"Well," retorted Mabyn, "after all, I am glad he was angry. I did not
think he had so much spirit. And if this is his opinion of you, I don't
think it is worth heeding, only I hope he'll keep to it. Yes, I do. I
hope he'll continue to think you everything that is wicked, and remain
out in Jamaica. Wenna, you must not lie and cry like that. Come, get up,
and look at the strawberries that Mr. Trewhella has sent you."
"Please, Mabyn, leave me alone, there's a good girl."
"I shall be up again in a few minutes, then: I want you to drive me over
to St. Gwennis. Wenna, I _must_ go over to St. Gwennis before lunch; and
father won't let me have anybody to drive. Do you hear, Wenna?"
Then she went out and down into the kitchen, where she bothered Jennifer
for a few minutes until she had got an iron heated at the fire. With
this implement she carefully smoothed out the crumpled letter, and then
she as carefully folded it, took it up stairs, and put it safely away in
her own desk. She had just time to write a few lines:
"DEAR MR. TRELYON: Do you know what news I have got to tell you?
Can you guess? The engagement between Mr. Roscorla and Wenna
_is broken off_; and I have got in my possession the letter
in which he sets her free. If you knew how glad I am! I should
like to cry 'Hurrah! hurrah!' all through the streets of
Eglosilyan; and I think every one else would do the same if only
they knew. Of course she is very much grieved, for he has been
most insulting. I cannot tell you the things he has said: you
would kill him if you heard them. But she will come round very
soon, I know: and then she will have her freedom again, and no
more emerald rings, and letters all filled with arguments. Would
you like to see her, Mr. Trelyon? But don't come yet--not for a
long time: she would only get angry and obstinate. I'll tell you
when to come; and in the mean time, you know, she is still
wearing your ring, so that you need not be afraid. How glad I
shall be to see you again! Yours most faithfully,
"MABYN ROSEWARNE."
She went down stairs quickly and put this letter in the letter-box.
There was an air of triumph on her face. She had worked for this
result--aided by the mysterious powers of Fate, whom she had conjured to
serve her--and now the welcome end of her labors had arrived. She bade
the hostler get out the dog-cart, as if she were the queen of Sheba
going to visit Solomon. She went marching up to her sister's room,
announcing her approach with a more than ordinarily accurate rendering
of "Oh, the men of merry, merry England!" so that a stranger might have
fancied that he heard the very voice of Harry Trelyon, with all its
unmelodious vigor, ringing along the passage.