money to charity, and Sir George Marston, mounting his horse outside Westminster Hall, observed loudly:
"He stole them all the same!"
With this the story ended for the outer world. People were puzzled for a while, and then forgot the whole affair. But the Marstons did not forget it, and would not be consoled for the loss of their rubies. Neither did we, the Merridews, forget. We were very proud of our family honor, and we made a point of being proud of the colonel also, in spite of certain dubious stories which hung about his name. The feud persisted in all its bitterness. We hurled scorn at one another across the space that divided us; we were bitter opponents in all public affairs, and absolute strangers when we met on private occasions. My father, who succeeded his uncle the colonel, was a thoroughgoing adherent of his predecessor. Sir George's son, Sir Matthew, openly espoused his father's cause and accusation. Meanwhile no human eye had seen the Maharajah's rubies from the hour at which they had disappeared from the cabin of the East Indiaman "Elephant."
A train of circumstances now began which bade fair to repeat the moving tragedy of Verona in our corner of the world, I myself being cast for the part of Romeo. As I was following the hounds one day, I came upon a young lady who had suffered a fall, fortunately without personal injury, and was vainly pursuing her horse across a sticky plow. I caught the horse and led him to his mistress. To my surprise, I found myself in the presence of Miss Sylvia Marston, who had walked by me with a stony face half a hundred times at county balls and such like social gatherings. She drew back with a sort of horror on her extremely pretty face. I dismounted, and stood ready to help her into the saddle.
"My groom is somewhere," said she, looking around the landscape.
"Anyhow, I didn't steal the rubies," said I. The truth is that on each of the half hundred occasions I have referred to I had regretted that the feud forbade acquaintance between Miss Marston and myself. I was eager to assuage the feud as far as she and I were concerned.
My remark produced an extremely haughty expression on the lady's face. I stood patiently by the horses. The absurdity of the position at last struck my companion; she accepted my assistance, although grudgingly. I mounted with all haste and rode beside her. We were hopelessly out of the run, and Miss Marston turned homeward. I did the same. For two or three miles our way would be the same. For some minutes we were silent. Then Miss Marston observed, with a sidelong glance:
"I wonder you can be so obstinate about them."
"The verdict of the jury" I began.
"Oh, do let the jury alone," she interrupted, impatiently.
I tried another tack.
"I saw you at the ball the other night," I remarked.
"Did you? I didn't see you."
"I perceived that you were quite convinced of that."
"Well, then, I did see you, but how could I—well, you know, papa was at my elbow. "
I was encouraged by this speech, and quite reasonably.
"SHE LOOKED OVER HER SHOULDER ONCE BEFORE A TURN IN THE ROAD HID HER FROM MY SIGHT."
