THE STORY OF THE OPAL RING.
Suddenly the door opened and Amber entered the room.
The handsome brunette looked as gay and smiling as if she, and not
Violet, were the prospective bride.
“Ah, Violet, moping here all alone! What is the matter?” she cried,
lightly.
Violet turned her dark-blue eyes from contemplating the distant hills,
and fixed them on the smiling, treacherous face of her cousin, sighing:
“Ah, Amber, I am so unhappy!”
“Unhappy? When a few hours more will see you Cecil’s bride! I am
surprised at you, child.”
“Oh, Amber, there is a dreadful weight on my heart--a foreboding of
evil that I cannot reason away!”
“Perhaps you are repenting your promise to Cecil.”
“No, no!”
“You have had an interview with Mr. Castello. Perhaps his handsome
face and the splendid diamonds he gave you, combined with his ardent
pleadings, have caused your heart to waver between him and Cecil,”
continued Amber, in a bantering tone.
Violet looked at her reproachfully and cried:
“How can you dream of such a thing, Amber? I hate the man and his
jewels. Grandpapa forced me to go down and see him, but I told him
candidly how much I hated him, and that I would rather die than marry
him!”
“But he did not withdraw his suit for your hand?”
“No,” Violet answered, with a deep and heavy sigh, and again turned
her eyes toward the sky with a sorrowful look, while she restlessly
turned the opal ring upon her finger.
Amber’s eyes watched the gleaming jewel with interest and presently she
said:
“I am sorry you feel so blue, my dear, but I suppose it is the suspense
of waiting that makes you so nervous. But it is several hours yet
before we can start for Washington, so I will beguile your impatience
by telling you the story of the opal ring you wear.”
“Has it really a story, Amber?” the girl asked, listlessly.
“Yes, a very thrilling one. If I were a novelist, I could make a
charming story of it; but I have no talent that way, so I must put it
in plain words.”
Violet’s sad eyes began to look brighter. Everything about the Grants
interested her, because she loved Cecil so dearly.
“Ah, I see you are looking brighter already,” laughed Amber. “Well, now
I am about to begin. Once upon a time----”
“Yes,” Violet murmured, encouragingly, for her cousin had suddenly
paused thoughtfully.
“Well, once upon a time,” resumed Amber, “a girl as young and beautiful
as you wore that opal ring. Her name was Linda--Linda Grant--and she
was young and gay and romantic, and as she was so charming, she had
hosts of lovers; but, strange to say, none of them could win her favor.
They said her mind was filled with visions of an ideal lover, grander
and handsomer than any man she knew, and that for him she kept her
heart.”
“Just as I kept mine for Cecil,” murmured Violet, tenderly.
“Yes,” Amber answered, with a frown on her averted face. Then she
continued:
“Suddenly this beautiful Linda Grant, the boast of this whole country,
disappeared as strangely as if the earth had opened and swallowed her.”
“Oh!” breathed Violet, in sorrow and dismay.
“It was on a Hallow Eve,” went on Amber. “The Grants were rich in those
days, and there had been a grand party at Bonnycastle that night. They
said afterward that Linda Grant that night was gayest of the gay and
fairest of the fair. She wore pink brocaded silk in a court-train, with
white lace draperies looped with wild roses, little high-heeled pink
slippers, and pearl ornaments. On her finger glowed this opal ring, a
mysterious gift from some unknown lover who had sent it with a perfumed
note that declared himself to be the Prince Charming for whom Linda
was waiting. The mysterious unknown begged her to wear the opal as
their betrothal ring, until he came to claim her, which should be very
soon. This romantic proceeding delighted the young girl, and she wore
the opal ring for the first time at the Hallow Eve party. At midnight
she left her friends with a light excuse, promising to return in a few
minutes, and--was never seen again!”
“Her mysterious lover had claimed her,” breathed Violet, in a voice of
awe.
“So it was believed for a long time, when all search for her had proved
futile, but years passed away before it was learned that death itself
had claimed the romantic little beauty that night.”
“Death?” cried Violet, trembling.
“Her remains were found five years afterward in an old unused well,
and the explanation was perfectly clear. The romantic girl, believing
in the witcheries of Hallow Eve, must have slipped away at midnight,
when the moon was full, to look for her lover’s face in the old well.
She probably lost her balance and fell in, and the mystery of her fate
remained unknown all that time.”
“Poor Linda!” sobbed Violet, with tears upon her cheeks. “And the
lover, Amber--did he ever come to seek his betrothed?”
“No, never; and when Linda was found in the well, with the opal ring
on her skeleton hand, superstitious people shook their heads and
declared the ring was of evil origin, that the Evil One himself had
sent it to summon Linda to her dreadful death. Many, many strange
stories were told by the credulous country people, and especially the
silly slave-folk, but the one most generally credited was the story of
Linda’s singing.”
“Her singing!” Violet echoed, in affright.
“Yes, she had an exquisite voice, and sang like a nightingale, ’tis
said, and after her death she assumed the part of a banshee at
Bonnycastle. It is said that whenever trouble or death hovers over that
household, a phantom voice is heard singing over the old tower, in
tones so sweet and sad and ghostly, that the very blood of the listener
is curdled in the veins.”
Violet shuddered and looked with new interest at the ring on her
hand--the mysterious betrothal ring of poor romantic Linda, who had met
so terrible a fate.
“Does it frighten you to wear the ring now that you know its gruesome
history?” inquired Amber, adding: “I am not a coward myself, but
nothing could induce me to wear that ring. For one thing, the opal is
always considered unlucky, and you must acknowledge that it brought
misfortune to poor Linda Grant. Besides, I should always be wondering
if it really had an evil origin, and it would frighten me to remember
the years in which it was hidden from sight in the old well on that
dead girl’s skeleton hand.”
She expected to see Violet tear the magnificent jewel from her finger,
and cast it away in horror, but she was disappointed, and chagrined,
for the fair young girl raised it to her lips and kissed it as though
it were sacred.
“How different we are, Amber,” she said, softly. “All that you have
told me only makes this ring dearer. My heart aches for poor dear
Linda, and the lover who could never claim her for his own. I am sure
he was a real, living lover, and probably her disappearance broke his
heart. Their ill-fated love makes it sacred to me; and, besides, I
must always remember that it is a pledge of my Cecil’s love, and that
so long as it keeps its radiance undimmed, his love for me remains
unchanged.”
And as she had kissed the ring first for the sake of hapless dead
Linda, she kissed it again for Cecil, her noble lover, with the
love-light in his dark, tender eyes, and the music in his wooing voice.
Amber was chagrined and baffled in her longing to see Violet cast the
ring away in fear and disgust. So far her clever plot for possessing
herself of the jewel had utterly failed, and her hazel eyes flashed
malignantly under their drooping lashes.
Trying to keep the bitter anger out of her voice, she added:
“I will tell you how that old story was recalled to my mind to-day.
Phebe told me that she met Mrs. Grant’s old servant, Uncle Bob, down
the road this morning, and the old darky was in a state of excitement
because the ghost had been singing over the tower last night, and
Mrs. Grant was almost in hysterics to-day looking for some dreadful
misfortune to befall the family.”
“May Heaven watch over that beautiful lady and her noble son, my
beloved, and keep them from misfortune!” breathed Violet, turning her
sweet, blue eyes heavenward.
Amber gave a low, sarcastic laugh, and exclaimed:
“It would seem as if the Grant’s family ghost considers your
approaching marriage to Cecil in the light of a misfortune.”
“Ah, Amber, do not say such a thing, even in jest, for it would break
my heart to bring trouble to my darling Cecil!” almost sobbed Violet,
in nervous alarm.
“Of course I was jesting, child, although I fancy that the proud Mrs.
Grant might be better pleased if her son had married some rich heiress,
who could help him redeem the family estates, than a poor girl who will
be only a burden to them both. But it cannot be helped, since Cecil
has chosen you, and I consider that the banshee showed bad taste in
bewailing the affair,” Amber rejoined, in a tone of delicate sarcasm.
“Oh, Amber, I do not believe that Cecil’s mother is at all mercenary,
for I have heard it several times hinted that she refused our rich
grandfather several years ago.”
“She must be a very silly woman if she did, for grandpapa’s money would
have restored old Bonnycastle to its original splendor. But perhaps she
thought Cecil would be sure to marry an heiress. Won’t she be furious
when he brings home Judge Camden’s disinherited granddaughter as his
bride!” said Amber, determined to torture her cousin all she could in a
sly way.
She was succeeding well, for Violet burst into low, nervous sobbing,
hiding her lovely face in her little white hands.
“Pshaw, Violet, do not cry like a baby. I was only teasing you, and if
I did not approve of the marriage, I certainly would not have proposed
the elopement,” Amber cried, reprovingly, and added:
“Do you know it is but two hours now until we start? You had better lie
down and get a little sleep, Violet, so as to look fresh and pretty for
the wedding. I will leave you now; and, remember, I will be back in two
hours for you; you must be ready in your traveling dress and hat, and
we will slip away without any one knowing.”
She went away, and Violet lay down as she was bidden, but sleep refused
to visit her eyes.
Amber’s artful innuendoes had made her cousin ten times more unhappy
than before. The shadow of a lowering sorrow, heavy but inexplicable,
hovered with black vulture-like wings over her heart, filling it with a
nameless terror. Frightened and despondent, she rose and knelt down to
pray instead of sleep, asking her heavenly Father to be good to her and
Cecil.