"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."