THE SILVER RING.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXX, Issue XI, 14 March 1903, Page 700

THE SILVER RING.

By

THOMAS COBB.

"1 am certain,” said Sophia, “that there is something on your mind.” “Now, how did you find that out?” "Of course, I can always tell,” she said, with a charming air of confidence. “But how?” I persisted. “Whilst you are talking to me,” she answered, “you are thinking of somebody else.” “It is usually the other way about,” I assured her. “What do you mean?” asked Sophia. “Whilst I am talking to anyone else 1 am thinking of you.” “Tell me what it is,” she exclaimed. “Well,” I said, “you remember that ring ” "Which ring?” asked Sophia, with a blush. "The ring I gave to you ” “Did you ever give me a ring?” she inquired, with an expression which suggested that she was making a valiant effort to recollect. “It was the Christmas before last ’ "Then you surely don’t expect me to remember anything hbout it,” said Sophia. “Anyhow, I was staying with you at Stembridge, and your Aunt Hilda wanted a ring to put in the Christmas pudding.” “Such an absurd custom!” cried Sophia. “Nobody seemed eager to take off her wedding ring.” I continued. “Had you come provided with one?" she asked. “Of course not. But 1 wore a curious kind of silver ring—a plain band, with a dragon engraved on it. I was foolish enough to regard it as a sort of talisman.” "You lent it then?” asked Sophia. “It subsequently fell to your share,” 1 reminded her. “Then, according to the superstition.” she said, “I ought to have been married within the year.” “That, no doubt, would have been the ideal arrangement,” I admitted, and Sophia stared pensively out of the window. “I wonder,” she answered, “what mv husband would have been like?” “I wish you would look at me— —’’ "O—oh!” exclaimed Sophia. “While I am talking to you,” 1 eon tinned. "1 don’t know whether you recollect that you wanted me to take back the ring.” "My memory is dreadful,” she said. “But I wouldn’t have it back ” "Why not?” asked Sophia. “You may be certain I had a reason." "A very ridiculous one, no doubt,” she a nswered. “Anyhow, I urged you to keep it, and you said you would ” “But.” exclaimed Sophia, with her face as red as a peony, “I told you I should never wear it.” “Then memory is beginning to return,” 1 suggested. “V ery faintly,” she answered, and 1 fancied that Sophia had lost some of her customary calmness. “Of course,” I continued, “it was not the sort of ring you could wear; besides, it was far too big—you let me try it on your finger, you know.” “At the dinner table?” she asked, with an ingenuous expression. “Oh, dear, no. It was on the stairs.”

“After all,” said Sophia, “ a ring you can’t wear isn’t of much use!” "Still,” 1 cried, “I didn’t think you would give it away.” “1 didn’t give it away.” she exclaimed. "Well, it’s an odd thing,” 1 said, when she interrupted me hastily. “My allowing you to leave it with me ?” "Not at all. But 1 happened to be at Talbot’s rooms the other evening—you know Talbot?” “I have met him. of course,” said Sophia. “Rather often,” I suggested. “Freddie is such a nice boy.” she murmured. “I saw the ring on his mantelshelf,” 1 said, and Sophia was apparently astonished. “You—you saw my ring on Freddy Talbot’s mantelshelf?" she cried, sinking into the nearest chair. “Yes.” “You were not foolish enough to tell him—” “1 merely inquired how he got it.” “What did he say ?” she asked eagerly. "He insisted that he hadn’t the slightest notion —he had simply seen it lying lihe>-e>f* “If I had given it to him.” answered Sophia, “he would scarcely have forgotten.” “Yet,” I suggested, “you had forgotten that I gave it to you.”

“That.” she retorted, “was more than eighteen months ago.” “If you didn’t give it to him—” "I didn’t,” answered Sophia. "Then how did it come into his room ?” “Perhaps it wasn’t the same ring,” Sophia remarked. “I am certain,” I insisted. “But—how can you tell?” she demanded. “1 had scratched my initials inside,” 1 said, “and I noticed that you had scratched yours.” “I always like to mark my things,” answered Sophia, staring at the window again. “So that if you didn’t give—” “I have told you I did nothing of the k ind! ” “Or you may have lent it —” “I never prevaricate,” said Sophia, in her most dignified manner. “Well.” I cried, “I can’t understand how Talbot got possession of the thing.” “It does appear mysterious,” she admitted, “but it is not of the remotest consequence.” "Still. I should like to clear the matter ip.” "You never will.” said Sophia. “Where used you to keep the ring?” 1 asked. 1 had never seen her with such a constant colour. “Oh. I—l daresay it was in my jewel ease.” she answered casually. "When did you see it last?” “I decline to be cross-examined.” she exclaimed, a little impatiently. “But,” I persisted, “did you know that Talbot had the ring?” “Of course not.” “It is true it was of very little value,” I suggested. “Then.” she cried, “why do you make such a fuss about it?” “You see. I hoped you might keep it until—” “Until when?” asked Sophia. “Oh, well, just for another year.” “Is anything likely to happen within the next vear?” she demanded.

”1 hope so,” I answered. “You see I am beginning to make my way a little.” “1 always knew you would make your way,” said Sophia, with pleasant promptness. “Still,” I suggested, “it’s dangerous to count one’s chicks ” “I always count mine,” she returned. "Doesn’t it lead to occasional disappointment?” I asked. “Not exactly disappointment.” “What, then?” "Oh, well,” said Sophia, "a watched pot seems so long in boiling, y. u know.’ "Still,” I exclaimed, “I should lik • t . know how the ring got out of your jew I ease!” "Suppose we talk of something else,’ she said. "Perhaps.” she suggested, “it wasn’t in there!” - "Then you don’t re ly know where it was?” 1 asked. “No,” she murmured. "At least ” “And you didn’t care!” 1 cried, as I rose. “Oh, dear!” said Sophia, "how persistent you are to-day.” “1 can’t help thinking,” 1 answered, "that you know all about it.” “You will be judicious to go before you make me angry.” she eried. “Angry!” “How many times haven’t I told you 1 had no suspicion that Freddy had the ring?” “Still,” I insisted. “1 believe you could clear up the mystery.” "Oh, that is very likely,” said Sophia. “Well,” I urged, "you may as well lie merciful and spare me a sleepless night.” “No.” was the answer, “I don’t intend to tell you.” "Why not?” "You would be sure to misunderstand ” “To misunderstand!” “You know you always do misunderstand that kind of thing,” said Sophia. “A few minutes ago.” I answered, ‘‘you said you had no idea ”

"You must think 1 am very stupid,” she eried. "Then you did know ” "Of course." said Sophia, "1 knew J had lost the ring, but 1 didn't dream that —that Freddy had —had found it.” "He didn’t find it.” "Oh. well!” she exe aimed. "He told me he merely saw it lying on his mantelshelf.” "Then.” said Sophia, "it must have dropped out.” "Dropped out ” "Yes,” she repeated, "it must have dropped out.” “Out of what?” 1 demanded. “You recollect,” she cried, "it was al ways several sizes too large.” "You refused to let me have it made smaller." "The idea of such a thing!” said Sophia. "It was not as if I ever dreamed of wearing it.” "Well, 1 am still quite in the dark,” J answered. “You are sure Freddy doesn’t suspect?” she asked. "Suspect what?” “Why, that the ring dropped out of my glove!” "Then,” I exclaimed, going towards Sophia’s ehair, “you must have worn it!” "Yes,” she said, thoughtfully, "that must have been how it happened.” “But,” I suggested, "you haven’t been to Talbot’s rooms!” "Why,, of course not,” she exclaimed, indignantly. “ Then how in the world could it drop from vour glove to his mantelshelf?” “A glove,” said Sophia, "need not always be on a person’s hand.” "Now I begin to understand." 1 answered. and I buttoned my coat. "I am positive you don’t.” "You gave Talbot your glove,” 1 cried. Sophia did not answer. She walked to the’-window and stood staring out at the street. “Good-bye,” I said, standing a few yards ofl. "Good-bye,” cried Sophia, and 1 opened the door. As I was in the act of crossing the threshold, however, she called me back. "I felt certain you would misunderstand,” she exclaimed, with an air of triumph. "Oh. it is all perfectly clear,” 1 protested. "I think you are very ridiculous,” she said. "I admit that I have been.” "Then you see that I didn’t give Freddy ” “Didn’t you?” I asked. “Although I have a perfect right to do as I please with my own property,” she insisted. “How did he get it?” I demanded, and Sophia returned to her chair. “You will be more comfortable on the sofa,” she suggested, as I shifted mine to her side. “I won’t bother to move,” I said. "Oh, very well!” Sophia exclaimed, and, rising again, she sat down on the sofa at the other side of the room. “You know,” she continued, “ I met Freddy at Lady Weston’s dance about a week ago.” "He told me that.” “Of course,” sad Sophia, “he is very ridiculous, but he dances really very nicely.” "How many times?” I asked. “Three, I think —three or four. His step suits mine perfectly. Besides,” Sophia added, “Freddy is such a boy!” “He can’t be a day more than twentysix,” I suggested. “Well,” cried Sophia, “he doesn’t look twenty-six.” “About the glove,” I hinted. “Just as we were coming downstairs to the carriage,” she explained, “Mrs. Venables’ dress was trodden upon. Mrs. Venables is my chaperon just now, you know. She asked me to pin her up. so I took off one of my gloves.” “Which glove?” I enquired. “How fond you are of details,” cried Sophia. “As if it could matter! I suppose I put it on the hall table, but when I finished pinning Mrs. Venables T couldn’t see it anywhere.” “Well?” T said. “Mrs. Venables was so impatient,” Sophia continued, “that I had to go without it, and I—l suppose —Freddy Talbot was foolish enough to take it.” “A man doesn’t do that sort of thing ” “Of course. I didn’t know for certain, said Sophia.

"Without encouragement!” I answered. Sophia looked suddenly indignant. “How eould 1 encourage him to steal my glove?” she demanded. “Of course I couldn’t make myself positively objectionable.” “I don’t think you could,” I felt bound to admit. “Some persons ean,” said Sophia. “Anvhow,” I exclaimed, “you wore my ring!” “I suppose I must have done,” she returned, in a dubious tone. “Although you protested that you wouldn’t,” I suggested. “How stupid it is to make a vow,” said Sophia, with a sigh. - “Was it the first time?” “Of course,” she continued, “I didn’t

intend to take off my glove. And 1 dared not wait to look for it, although I called next morning to see whether it had been found.” “Which glove was it?” “Let me see!” murmured Sophia. “Let me,” I eried, rising to examine her hands the better. Sophia iminedi ately held them behind her. “I fancy it must have been the left.” she said. “Sophia!” I cried. “I hate to talk to anvone who frowns at me,” she exclaimed. • “I assure you I didn’t intend to frown ” “Please sit down!” “I want to know why you wore the ring,” I urged. “Didn’t I tell you?” “No.” I answered. “My gloves were rather—rather loose. Sometimes I fancy they must put the wrong sizes on them! 1 feel certain those must really have been six and a half.” “So you wore the ring because the gloves were too big!” “Of course, I didn’t imagine anyone would know,” said Sophia: “I shall make Freddy give it back ”

“1 shouldn't do that!" "Not ask for my ring?” “It might lead to an awkward explanation.” "How?” she asked. “You would have to admit the knowledge that he purloined your glove.” “Still,” she iissisted, “1 should like to have my ring back.” “In ease another pair of gloves should be too large?” “At all events. I should like to have it,” she said. I put my thumb and finger in my waistcoat pocket. “Here it is!” I cried, holding it up for her inspection. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “surelv vou didn’t tell Freddy ” “Not a word.” “Then how did you ”

"Get hold of it,” I answered. “You must have stolen it from Freddy’s room!” “As it was my own already, you can scarcely call it stealing,” I protested. “No,” said Sophia, “it was mine.” “Is it verv much too large?” I asked. “A little.” “Let me see,” 1 said, standing by her side, and Sophia held forth her left hand “Which finger did you wear it on?” 1 asked. “I fancy it must have been—yes, I think it was the third.” Sophia answered. “But, of course,” she added. “I shall never dream of wearing it again.”