WHICH MAKES FURTHER MENTION OF A RING
Ravenslee, strolling in leisurely fashion along Tenth Avenue, became
aware of a slender, pallid youth whose old-young face was familiar; a
cigarette dangled from his pale, thin lips, and his slender hands were
hidden in the pockets of his smartly tailored coat. On went Ravenslee,
pausing now and then to glance idly into some shop window until,
chancing to slip his fingers into a waistcoat pocket, he paused all at
once and, drawing thence a ring wrought into the semblance of two
clasped hands, drew it upon his finger. Now as he glanced at the ring,
his eye gleamed and, smiling as one who has a sudden bright idea, he set
off faster than before, striding on light and purposeful feet. But, as
he turned a corner, he noticed that the pallid youth was still close
behind, wherefore he halted before a shop window where, among other
articles of diet, were cans of tomatoes neatly piled into a pyramid. At
these he stared, waiting, and presently found the pallid youth at his
elbow, who also stared upon the tomato pyramid with half-closed eyes and
with smouldering cigarette pendent from thin-lipped mouth. And after
they had stared awhile in silence, cheek by jowl, Ravenslee spoke in his
pleasant, lazy voice:
"Judging by the labels these tomatoes are everything tomatoes possibly
could be."
"'S right!" murmured the pale one imperturbably.
"Fond of tomatoes?" enquired Ravenslee.
"Aw!" answered his neighbour, "quit foolin'--talk sense!"
"Certainly! Why do you follow me, Soapy?"
Soapy's eyes grew narrower, and the pendent cigarette stirred slightly.
"Know me, hey?" he enquired.
"Heaven forbid! 'T was a bolt at a venture--a shot in the dark."
"Talkin'--o'--shootin'," said Soapy, grimly deliberate, "peanuts ain't a
healthy profesh around here--not fer your kind, it ain't!"
"Oh, I don't know," answered Ravenslee, shaking his head gently at the
tomatoes, "I've heard of professions even more unhealthy."
"Aw--well--say what?"
"Well, talking of shooting--yours!"
Soapy's narrow eyes gleamed with an added viciousness, his pale nostrils
expanded, but the retort died upon his curling mouth, his puffy eyelids
widened and widened as he stared at the ring on Ravenslee's finger, and
when he spoke his voice was strangely hoarse and eager.
"Say, sport--where'd you--get that--ring?"
"Why do you ask?"
"'Cause I want to know, I guess."
"Think you've seen it before?"
"Sport, I don't think--I know. I seen it many a time. I'd know it in a
million, sure."
"Where did you see it before?"
"On M'Ginnis's mitt. It useter belong t' Bud."
"Ah!" exclaimed Ravenslee, scowling down at the ring, "you make me wish
more than ever that I had throttled him a little harder."
"Where'd you get that ring, sport?" Soapy repeated.
"From Maggie Finlay's father!"
Soapy turned away to stare at the tomato cans again.
"Meanin'?" he enquired at last, hoarser than before.
"That once upon a time it belonged to--her."
"Sport," said Soapy after an interval, still staring at the pyramid of
cans, "I useter know her once, an' I've jest nacherally took a fancy t'
that ring; if fifty dollars'll buy it, they're yours--right now."
"It isn't mine," answered Ravenslee, still scowling at the ring which
he had drawn from his finger. "I'm on my way to take it to--its owner.
But if that person doesn't want it, and I'm pretty sure--that
person--won't, you shall have it, I promise you. And now," said he,
pocketing the ring and turning, still scowling, on Soapy, "you are one
of M'Ginnis's gang, I fancy; anyway, if you see him you can tell him
from me that if he gives me another chance I'll surely kill him for the
foul beast he is."
"Sport," said Soapy, "I guess the Spider's right about you--anyway, you
ain't my meat. An' as fer killin' Bud--you sure ain't goin' t' get th'
chance--not while I have the say-so. S' long, sport!" and turning upon
his heel, Soapy lounged away.
At Times Square Ravenslee entered the subway and, buying his ticket, was
jostled by a boy, a freckled boy, round-headed and round of nose, who
stared at him with a pair of round, impertinent eyes.
Lost in happy speculation he was duly borne to One Hundred and Thirtieth
Street, where he boarded the ferry. Upon the boat he was again conscious
of a round head that bobbed here and there amid the throng of
passengers, but paid small heed as he leaned to watch the broad and
noble river and the green New Jersey shore. At Fort Lee, exchanging boat
for trolley car, he was once more vaguely conscious of two round eyes
that watched him from a rear seat; but as the powerful car whirled them
up-hill, plunged them down steep inclines, swung them around sharp
curves, through shady woods, past far-flung boughs whose leaves stirred
and whispered as the great car fleeted by, he fell again to dreaming of
Hermione and the future; and so reached Englewood, a small township
dreaming in the fierce midday sunshine. Here he enquired of a perspiring
butcher in shirtsleeves the whereabouts of the house he wanted and,
being fully directed and carefully admonished how to get there, set off
along the road. And remembering that her feet must often have traversed
this very path, he straightway fell to his dreaming again. Thus how
should he know anything of the round head that bobbed out from behind
bush or tree ere it followed whither he went? So Ravenslee came where
the road led between tall trees--to smooth green lawns beyond which was
the gleam of water and so at last to the house he sought.
Now beside this house, separated by a wide stretch of lawn, was a small
wood and, lured by its grateful shade, he turned aside into this wood
and began pushing his way through the dense undergrowth, which presently
thinned to form a small clearing, roofed and shut in by leaves and full
of a tender green light. Here he paused, and espying a fallen tree hard
by, sat himself down and began to fill his pipe. And now, remembering
his shabby person, he felt disinclined to go up to the house and demand
to see Miss Chesterton. Yet see her he would--but how? He was frowning
over this problem when it was resolved for him quite unexpectedly;
roused by the sound of a snapping twig, he glanced up--and Hermione was
before him. She was coming down a narrow path that wound amid the
leaves, and because she wore no hat, the sunlight, filtering through the
branches, made a glory of her hair as she passed. Her head was bowed,
and she walked very slowly as one in thought; she had brought sewing
with her, but for once her busy hands were idle, and, as he looked upon
her beauty, scarce breathing, he saw again that look of wistful sadness.
As he rose, she glanced up, and seeing him, stood utterly still. Thus
for a long moment they gazed upon each other, then, even as he hastened
to her, she came to him on swift, light feet, and, flushing, tremulous,
quick-breathing, gave herself into his arms.
"Oh, Hermione, my beloved!" he murmured, his voice tense and eager,
"didn't I say enough, last time? Don't you know I love you--worship
you--hunger and yearn for you? I want you with every breath I draw.
When will you be my wife--oh, when will you marry me, Hermione?"
For answer she reached up her arms, sudden, passionate arms that clung
about him close and strong; so they stood thus, heart beating to heart,
thrilling at each other's nearness yet drawing ever closer until,
lifting her head, she gave her lips to his.
"Oh, my dear, my dear," she whispered, "is it right to love you so,
I wonder? I never thought it could be--like this. It frightens me
sometimes, because my love is so great and strong and I--so powerless.
Is it right? I--Oh!" she broke off breathlessly, "how can I speak if--if
you--"
"Kiss you so much?" he ended, "you can't speak, so--don't speak, my
Hermione!" But now, all at once, he started and glanced up among the
leaves above them.
"Dear," she whispered, "what is it?"
"That tapping sound," he answered, still gazing upward.
"It's only the woodpecker."
"Why, of course!" he laughed. "It's strange, but I dreamed a scene like
this--yes, the great tree yonder, and you in my arms--though it seemed
so impossible then, and--"
But uttering a sudden, low cry of alarm, Hermione broke from his clasp
and fled from him along the leafy path while he stared after her, lost
in amazement; then he ran also and caught her upon the edge of the
little wood.
"What frightened you, Hermione--who was it?"
"I--I thought I saw some one crouching behind a bush--watching us!"
"Not--M'Ginnis?" he demanded, fierce-eyed.
"No--no, I'm sure it wasn't!"
"I'll go and look," said Ravenslee, clenching his fists. But now, as he
turned away, two round arms were about him again, soft and compelling,
and she was looking up at him, all shy-eyed, passionate tenderness; and
before the revelation in that look, he forgot all else in the world.
"Hermione--when will you marry me?"
Now, softened by distance, there floated to them the mellow booming of
a gong.
"That means I must go!" she sighed.
"Hermione--when will you marry me?"
"Good-by--good-by--I must run!"
But his long arms only clasped her the closer.
"Hermione, when will you be my wife?"
"Oh, please, please let me go; if I'm late--"
"When, Hermione?"
"When I--come home, if--you really--want me--Oh, now my hair's all
coming down, I know. Good-by!"
Reluctantly he loosed her and stood to watch until, reaching the
verandah of the house, she paused to glance back to where he stood among
the leaves ere she vanished between the screen doors. Then Ravenslee
turned, and remembering her sudden fright, looked sharply about him,
even pausing, now and then, to peer behind bush and thicket; but this
time he did not think to glance upward, and thus failed to see the round
eyes that watched him from amid the leaves of the great tree.
So he came again to the dusty highway and strode along, throbbing with
life and the lust of life, revelling in the glory of earth and sky and
quite unconscious of the small, furtive figure that flitted after him
far behind.
And it was not until he sat in the ferryboat that he remembered he had
forgotten to give her the ring, after all.