Ashtabula telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1874-1880, 1878-03-15
A BRILLIANT ADVENTURE

Inc time was ABOUT 1orJnlgnC DeIOIS
Christmas. There was not many trav-
elers, and I had a compartment in the
early tidal train to myself Ny destina-
ton was Paris, my errand to convey from
my father "a London jeweler and silver
mith) to his agent in that city very
valuable diamond ring. "The diamonds
in it are worth five hundred pounds if
they are worth penny, my father had
said to me so 1 hope you viii take spec
ial care of the ring, Ned, and neither
lose it on the way nor allow yourself to
be robbed of it. l smiled a little su-
perciliOusly as my father spoke. As if
It were at all likely that I should either
lose it or allow it to be stolen from me !
I was Just turned one-and-twenty, and
my father had no right to speak to me
as if l were still boy
I had got the ring safe in an inner
pocket of my waistcoat, as l took care to
assure myself from time to time. 1 had
not seen it since my father put it into
the little velvet-lined box In which it
was still shut up. When 1 had finished
my first cigar and had got through the
morning news, the thought struck me
that might as well have another look
at the ring. There could be no harm
in that, you know. I took the box out
of its hiding-place and opened it. My
eyes were dazzled as I looked. There
lay tie darling in It's nest of purple vel
vet. Who could have resisted the
pleasure of taking it out and trying it
on2 Certainly not 1. First on one
finger and then on another [ tried it.
Had it been made for the third finger of
nv right hand it could not have fitted
me better. 1t looked simply exquisite.
Now I came to think Of it, was thefe
or could there be a safer hiding place
for the ring than my finger? 1 had
only to keep my glove on and not soul
would know anything about it. 1t was
far safer there than in my pocket. In
such case to hesitate was folly. I
placed the ring on my finger, and put
the empty box back into my pocket. As
was alone there was no occasion to put
on my glove just then; so I unused and
smoked, and watched the many-colored
rays of light that flashed from the bril-
liants, and wondered what great swells
finger the ring was destined to decorate
How I wished that 1 could call it mine
There was no harm In dazzling the
eyes of the ticket-colleetor with it. He
was only railway official. But I took
care to pull on my glove and button it
before alighting from the train. A quar-
ter of an hour later we were steaming
swiftly out of Dover harbor.
There were not more than a dozen
passengers on deck. The day was cold
and clear, with just enough sea on to
make the voyage unpleasant for bad sail
ors. Only two ladies were visible. One
was stout middle-aged person, who was
eating and drinking nearly the whole way
amoss-evidently an old salt. The other
was well, simply the most charming
creature I hadeVerset eyes on. In point
of fact, 1 could not keep my eyes off her.
l passed her and repassed her as I paced
the deck from end to end, and every time
that l passed her l looked at her. What
lovely gray eyes, What superb yellow
hairI But as for her complexion, it would
need poet to describe its wild-rose tints.
Once or twice her eyes met mine just for
a moment, and it struck me they were
full Of q wlstfuI sadness. so far as L
could ju lge, she was entirely alone. We
were about halfway across when, as l
passed her for the fiftieth time, she spoke.
Would monsieur have the goodness to
ask the steward to bring me a little
cognac ?" She spoke in French. As
the song says, "Her voice was low and
sweet. l was too huttered to answer
her. l could only bow and grin, and
make bolt for the stewards den. Of
course l took the cognac to her myself.
You should have seen how prettily she
thanked me. She slipped it as canary
might do if that bird were in the habit of
drinking brandy. "I hope that madem-
oiselle is somewhat revived" ventured
to observe presently.
"Yes, very much revived, thanks to
monsieur. But 1 am not mademoiselle.
1 am madame. 1 am a widow" She
pressed her handkerchief to her eyes as
she spoke. How interesting, nay, how
touching, was this simple confession /!
The wistful sorrow in her eyes was at once
accounted for. Would that it had been
my happy lot to comfort her!
There was a camp-stool close by.
Presently ventured to draw it little
nearer and to sit down on it, blushing at
my temerity as I did 50. She did not
seem at all offended, and we were pres
emily in the midst of an animated and in
teresting conversation. There was no
hauteur about madame. On the contra
~ che xUoe oondor itsalf Gha hod oDi,,