The Osceola times., 1880-01-24
A BRILLIANT ADVLNTuR RE.

The time was about a fortnight before
Christmas. There were not many trav-
elers, and had a compartment in the
early tidal train to myself My destina-
ton was Paris, my errand TO convey
from my father Ia London ieweler and
silyersmith) to his agent in that city a
very valuable brilliant ring. "The dia-
monds in it are worth $500 if they are
worth penny" my father had said to
me- $50 | hope you will take special ca re
Of the ring, Nel, and neither lose it on
the way nor allow Yourself TO be robbed
of it," ! smiled little superciliously as
father spoke. As if it were at all likely
that ! should either lose it or allow it to
be stolen from me! ! was just turned
one and twenty, and my father had no
right to speak TO me as If were still
boy.
/ had got the ring safe in an inner
pocket of my waistcoat, as ] took care to
assure myself from time to time. ] had
not seen it since my father put ii into a
little velvet-lined box, in which it was
still shut up. When had finished my
first cigar, and had got through with 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. took the box out of
its hiding-place and looked at it. My
eyes were dazzled as | looked. There
laid the darling in its nest Of purple
velvet. Who could have resisted the
pleasure Of taking it out and trying it
on2 Certainly not |, FRS, on one fin
ger and then on another | tried it. Had
II been made for the third finger Of the
right hand it could not have fitted me
better. 1t looked simply exquisite!
Now Icame to think Of it, was there,
or could there be, a safer hiding-placc
than on my finger? ! had only TO keep
my glove on, and not a sot.l would know
ANYTHING about it. IL was far safer there
than in my pocket. In surh a case 70
hesitate was folly. placed the nng on
my finger, and put the empty box into
my pocket. A. ! was alone, there was
no occasion 10 put my glove on just then,
50 | mused and smoked. and watc.ed the
many-coiored rdvs Of light that flashed
from the brilliants, and wondered what
great sweis finger il was destined to
decorate. How | wished that could
cIll it mine.
There was no harm in dazzling the
eyes of the ticket collector with it. He
was only a railway official. But | took
care TO pull on my glove and button 1t
before alighting from the train. 4 quar-
ter OF an hour later we were steaming
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
sailors, Only TWO ladies were visible.
One was stout. midde-aged person,
who was eating and drinking nearly all
the way across-evidcntlv an old salt.
The other one was--wcll, simply the
most charming creature had ever set
my ewes on. In point of fact, | could
not keep my eyes off her. passed
her and re-passcd her. as ! paced the
deck from end to end, and every time l
passed her looked at her. What love
" gray cyesl What superb yellow hair.
And as for complexion it would need a
poet to describe its wild-rose tints.
Once or twice her eyes met mine for
Just a moment, and it struck me that
they were full of a wistful sadness. so
far as | could judge she was entirely
alone. We were about half way across
when, as passed her for the fiftieth
time, she spoke. "Would Monsieur have
the goodness to ask the steward to bring
me little cognac?" She spoke In
French. As the song says, Her voice
was low and sweet" ! was too tlattered
to answer, and could only bow and grin,
and make bolt TO the stewards den.
OF course took the cognac to her my
self You should have seen how prettily
she thanked me. She slipped at it as a
canary might do if that bird were i'll the
habit of drinking brandy.
Il hone That Mademoiselle is some
what revived" | ventured to observe,
presently.
ayes; very much revived. thanks to
Monsieur. But | am not Mademoiselle.
| am Madame. | 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 1t had
only been my happy lot to comfort her'
There was a camp-stool close by.
Presently ventured to draw little
nearer, and to sit down on 1t, blushlng
at my temCrily as | did so. She did not
seem at all offended, and we were pres
emily in the midst OF an animated and
interesting conversation. lncre was HO
hauteur about Madame. On the contra
ry, she was candor itself. She had only
been three days, she told me, in London.
She had been staying with Sir Henry
Fitz Evans, who had charge of her late
husbands interests in England. She
was now going into seclusion-going
back to the little cottage in which she
had dwet ever since her husbands
death. She would not be able to 90 for
ward by the tidal train, she told me,
having business call to make in Calais.
She would 90 forward by the evening
train.
All tins was told me with charming
frankness. There was no reason WHY ]
should not wait and 90 forward with her
by the evening train-if she would only
allow the to do so. When | threw out a
hint to that effect she offered no objec-
tion. She admitted at once that she was
fond of society, and then she looked at
me and-well, could almost have sworn
that she blushed. ! had already told