THE DIAMONDS.
Mrs. Freeman Tracy was a faded, washed-out woman who had been very
pretty in her girlhood and who thought with the aid of dress and
cosmetics to retain a remnant at least of her former youth and beauty.
Celine, who understood make-ups to perfection, always did her best with
her older mistress, and Worth and New York modistes did the rest. On
this occasion her dress would have been suitable for Narraganset or
Saratoga, though even there it would have been noticed for its elaborate
elegance, but in plain Ridgefield it looked, with its sweeping train and
flounces and ribbons, as if designed for a ballroom rather than a
country tavern. But no such idea troubled her. She was vainer of her
looks, if possible, than her daughter, and a great deal more shallow.
She was proud of being Mrs. Freeman Tracy and the granddaughter of the
tallest monument in Ridgefield cemetery; proud of being the mother of
the most beautiful girl in New York, or any other city she had ever
visited, and very proud of the famous Tracy diamonds.
They had been brought from India by her husband’s uncle on his mother’s
side and given to her on her wedding day, with the understanding that
they were to go to her daughter, if she had one, on her bridal day.
There was a cross, with pin and ear-rings,—the whole representing a
fortune in itself. The ear-rings especially were of great value and once
seen could readily be identified. They were pear shaped, very large,
white and clear, and always attracted attention and excited comment when
she wore them. The care of these costly gems was the bane of Mrs.
Tracy’s life, and numberless and curious were their hiding places when
not in a downtown safe at her banker’s where she kept them during Lent
and at such times as she did not wear them. Helen had urged her leaving
them there when coming to Ridgefield, but she had refused to do so. The
bank might be robbed, or duplicates might be made of them in Paris where
the banker went every few months. She had heard of such things, and when
she was not in the city and liable to call for them every few days there
was no knowing what might be done. She should take them with her,
putting the boxes in a strong linen bag which Celine carried, with
instructions never to let it out of her possession a moment. At the
Prospect House it would be rather awkward for the girl to be walking
around with a bag hung on her arm, and during the night it had reposed
under Mrs. Tracy’s mattress and been forgotten until Sarah, when making
the bed, found it and took it to Mrs. Tracy. Evidently some place where
the jewels could stay must be found for them.
“I wonder if there is a safe in the house,” Mrs. Tracy thought, as she
opened one of the boxes and feasted her eyes upon her treasures. Then
she wondered where Helen and Alice were, and why everybody was out of
the way when she wanted them.
“Miss Tracy is on the north piazza talking with Mr. Mason,” Celine said,
“and Miss Alice most likely has gone on some errand for her. I saw her
going up the street.”
Mrs. Tracy nodded, and after a time decided to go herself to the north
piazza, or office, and inquire for a safe. She had not met Mrs. Mason
and felt rather anxious to do so. Nothing could be bluer or purer in her
estimation than the Tracy and Allen blood mixed, but the Mason blood was
nearly as blue, and she had a great desire to be allied with it through
a marriage of Helen with Craig. Consequently she was prepared to be very
gracious to the mother. The gown she wore was selected with some
reference to Mrs. Mason, who had been abroad and would recognize Paris
workmanship. As she was passing the foot of the stairs she heard the
sound of a footstep and saw a tall lady descending whom she knew must be
Mrs. Mason from her air of good breeding and the dignity with which she
bore herself.
“Good morning,” Mrs. Mason said. “We need not stand on ceremony here. I
know you are Mrs. Tracy, and I am Mrs. Mason.”
Craig, who knew his mother’s opinion of fashionable women like Mrs.
Tracy, would have been astonished at her cordiality, but Mrs. Mason was
a lady, and as such she would treat Mrs. Tracy when associated with her
in the same house. Mrs. Tracy was delighted and met her advance
effusively and told her where she was going.
“I think we shall find our young people there. Yes, here they are,” she
said, with a meaning smile as she turned the corner and saw them; Craig
in his usual place; Helen, who, on the pretext of getting out of the
glare of the noonday light, had moved her seat, sitting near him, and
Alice on the steps.
In a moment Craig arose and bowed to Mrs. Tracy, whom his mother
presented to him, and who sank into a chair, as if exertion of any kind
were too much for her delicate frame.
“Ar’n’t you going to introduce me to your mother?” Helen asked, as she
saw Craig resuming his seat.
“I beg your pardon for my thoughtlessness,” he said. “I must have lost
my head. Mother, this is Miss Helen Tracy.”
Mrs. Mason bowed to her a little stiffly, but Helen was not be ignored,
and talked on in a familiar, chatty way, until she saw from her mother’s
face that she was growing restless and anxious for a chance to speak.
“What is it, mamma?” she said at last. “Do you want anything?”
“Yes,” her mother replied. “I wish to see Mr. Taylor, or some
responsible person with regard to my diamonds. Do you know if he is in
the office?”
She looked at Craig, who arose at once and said he would inquire.
Returning in a moment he brought Mark with him, saying Mr. Taylor was
not in, but Mr. Hilton would perhaps do as well, if she were thinking of
the safe. Mrs. Tracy’s face showed that she would rather deal with the
proprietor, and she finally said so. She had opened the boxes and put
them upon the table where the jewels shone and flashed in a bit of
sunlight which fell across them.
“Jeff said you wanted me. Here I be,” came at that moment from Uncle
Zach, who was followed by his wife with her big kitchen apron on, her
sleeves above her elbows and a patch of flour on her face. “Wall, I’ll
be dumbed,” he began, when he saw the diamonds. “These must be the
stones I’ve hearn tell on,” he said, taking one of the ear-rings from
its satin bed and turning it in the sun until a hundred sparks of light
danced on the wall and on the floor. “I reckon these cost
money,—hundreds, maybe.”
“Hundreds!” Mrs. Tracy repeated scornfully, “Thousands are nearer the
truth.”
“You don’t say so,” and Uncle Zach gasped as he looked at the stones and
wondered where the money was in them.
Holding the jewel up to his wife’s ear he asked how she would like to
wear it.
“Don’t be a fool,” she said, “and put the ear-ring back before you drop
it and break it and have it to pay for.”
At this everyone laughed except Mrs. Tracy, who was too intent upon
business to think of the absurdity of breaking her diamond.
“They are in a way heirlooms,” she said, “brought from India and given
to me on my wedding day. They are to be my daughter’s when she marries.”
She was looking at Craig who did not seem as much impressed as Mark. To
him there was a fascination about those diamonds, which seemed like so
many eyes confronting him, and he was glad when Mrs. Tracy closed the
box and shut them from his sight.
“You want to put ’em in the safe, do you?” Uncle Zacheus said, “Wall,
there ain’t no better one in the state than mine. Burglar proof unless
they blow it up, and Mark would hear ’em before they got very far at
that.”
“Does he sleep in the office?” Mrs. Tracy asked, and Uncle Zach replied,
“No, ma’am; but in the room j’inin’. That linter you may have noticed is
his bedroom.”
“How many know the combination?” was Mrs. Tracy’s next question, and
Uncle Zach replied, “Nobody but Mark and me, and—yes, one more,—Dot. She
had to know, but land sakes, she can no more unlock it than a child. I
have tough work at it myself. Mark is your man.”
Mark had a feeling that Mrs. Tracy distrusted him, and he suggested that
she might feel safer if her diamonds were in the vault of the bank.
“No,” she answered quickly. “I prefer to have them where I can assure
myself of their safety any moment.”
“Forty times a day if you want to. Mark will unlock it for you,” Uncle
Zach suggested. “Won’t you, Mark?”
The young man did not answer. He was standing with his arms folded and a
somber look in his eyes, until they rested upon Helen, who was close to
him, and who, with a shrug of her shoulders, said in a low tone, “Don’t
mind mamma. She is so fussy about her diamonds that she will scarcely
trust them with any firm in New York. _I_ should let them lie around
loose.”
Wrapping the boxes in several folds of tissue paper Mrs. Tracy handed
them to Mark, saying “I hold you responsible for them.” She saw them
placed in the safe, and decided that if she dared she would some day ask
the high and mighty clerk to show her how to unlock it herself. She had
taken a dislike to Mark for no reason at all except that he was made too
much of, and as a hotel clerk had no business to be so gentlemanly and
fine looking and hold himself in so dignified a manner towards her as if
he felt himself to be her equal. The dislike was mutual, for Mark had
decided that she was a proud, exacting, frivolous woman, whom it would
be hard to please.
“Mamma, I think you were very uncivil to Mr. Hilton, and acted as if you
were afraid to trust your diamonds with him,” Helen said when they were
alone in their room.
“To tell you the truth I was,” Mrs. Tracy replied. “I really don’t know
why, but I have a queer feeling with regard to him. Mr. Taylor makes
quite too much of him. I trust you will teach him his place if he tries
to step out of it. I saw him looking at you with those queer eyes of his
in a way I didn’t like. They have a singular trick of moving round, and
you can’t help following them.”
“Oh, mamma, a cat may look upon a king, and Mr. Hilton may surely look
at me,” Helen said, knowing perfectly well what her mother meant by
Mark’s eyes, which compelled you to meet them, whether you would or not.
She had met them readily,—in fact had rather challenged them to look at
her, and then had sent back a glance which made Mark’s blood tingle. No
woman had ever affected him as she did and after he knew dinner was over
in the salon he found himself constantly watching for a sight of her, or
the sound of her voice. Two or three times he went round to the north
piazza hoping to find her there, but Craig sat alone poring over
Browning and listening occasionally for the trail of a skirt round the
corner. He still had upon the table the lily Alice had given him, but it
was shrivelled and faded and he scarcely knew it was there. The rose had
overshadowed the lily and Alice was forgotten.