CHAPTER IX
MR. ELY HAS A LETTER
Mr. Ely took a cab into the city. On the road he stopped to buy aring. He was the kind of man whose determination is intensified byopposition. He had been half in love with Miss Truscott before he methis German friend; now, in his own peculiar way, he was quite. MissRuth Rosenbaum was the youngest and most prepossessing of the six, andthat there had been certain passages between them he was well aware.But in any case her father's attempt to force his daughter down histhroat would have had the effect of making him fly off at a tangent inquite another direction. Now the effect it had upon him was to sendhim off helter-skelter to purchase Miss Truscott an engagement-ring.But he was the man of business even then. The jeweller found somedifficulty in meeting his requirements. What Mr. Ely wanted was anarticle of the greatest value at the smallest cost. For instance, fora ring priced at a hundred and fifty guineas he offered fifteenpounds--and this with such an air of making a first-rate bid that thetradesman did not know whether to treat it as an insult or a jest.Finally he expended twenty pounds, and had his value for it, restassured.
Directly he entered the Stock Exchange he encountered Mr. Ash.
"I had your wire," began that gentleman. "I congratulate you, my dearboy."
"Yes." Mr. Ely looked the other straight in the face, which was atrick he had when there was something which he particularly wished tosay. Then he slipped his arm through Mr. Ash's, and drew thatgentleman aside. "She's a fine girl, Ash--finer than I thought shewas. Finest girl in England, in the world, by George she is!"
Mr. Ash was a little surprised at his friend's enthusiasm. But he letno sign of this escape him.
"She's a good girl too, my boy."
"Best girl ever yet I came across."
"And she's true--true as a die."
"Truer--truest girl ever yet I saw."
"And when she says she loves a man----" Mr. Ash paused. He glanced athis friend. Mr. Ely gave no sign. "When she says she loves a man, youmay be quite certain that she does."
Mr. Ely looked down at his toes, then up at Mr. Ash.
"I've bought the ring."
"What! The wedding-ring!"
"The wedding-ring! Good gad, no! I never thought of that. It's theengagement ring I've got."
"The other one comes after, eh?"
"I gave twenty sovereigns for it."
"That's a pile." What the smile meant in Mr. Ash's eyes it would bedifficult to say.
"He wanted forty-five. I beat him down. Said I'd seen its own brotherat Attenborough's for ten." There was a pause. Then Mr. Ely beganagain. "I say, Ash, when do you think the wedding could come off?"
"In a hurry? Well, what do you say to twelve months, my boy?"
"Twelve months! Twelve months be hanged! A month's enough for me."
"A month! The girl won't have time to turn herself round. And you've ahouse to take, and all the rest of it."
"You say the word, and I'll have a house by to-morrow night, and getit furnished in a week."
"But, my dear boy, you don't seem to be aware that the lady generallyhas a voice in that kind of thing."
"You say a month, and I'll make it right with her."
"You may marry her to-morrow for all I care.
"I should like to marry her to-morrow," said Mr. Ely candidly; "but--Isuppose it'll have to be a month."
But even a month was not an impassable space of time. Mr. Elyreflected that there were a good many things which must be done--itshould be a lunar month, he decided in his own mind--his time would bemuch occupied, the days would quickly pass, and then--then the maidwith the big eyes, the finest girl in the world, the best and thetruest, would be his bride.
His happiness was consummated on the following morning. It had neveroccurred to him to suggest that there should be any correspondence. Hewas not a man who was fond of writing himself, and a love-letter--theidea of a sane man writing a love-letter!--was an idea which up to thepresent moment had never entered his mind. And that in spite of acertain unfortunate document which was in the possession of Miss RuthRosenbaum. So when he found upon his breakfast table the followingmorning a large square envelope, addressed to "Frederic Ely, Esq." inan unmistakably feminine hand, the postmark of which was Shanklin, hisheart gave quite a jump.
It was from Miss Truscott, as sure as fate: the first letter from hislove?
The Woman with One Hand, and Mr. Ely's Engagement Page 20