Chapter X: A Gold Nugget and a Diamond Ring

When Celia went home for the Christmas holidays, it was as the betrothed of David Salmon. David had proposed to her one evening when they were at Mrs. Rosen’s house in Fitzjohn’s Avenue, and she had accepted him, on condition that he should not even introduce the subject of marriage to her for at least three years.

It was altogether a conditional engagement on her part. She was not sure if she really loved him, and she was not at all anxious to be engaged; but David seemed so bent on having his own way, that for the sake of peace she acceded to his request.

The first thing he did was to cast about for a diamond ring for his _fiancée_. He would have to beg, borrow, or steal one from somewhere. There were plenty in the jewellers’ shops, and he looked at them with longing eyes, but as he had no cash wherewith to purchase one, he was obliged to be content with looking only.

Presently, however, a bright idea struck him. Hailing a hansom, he betook himself to the aristocratic neighbourhood of Shoreditch, where there resided, at the sign of three balls, an old man who happened to be a second cousin of his father’s. Ikey Benjamin was scarcely a relative to be proud of, and on most occasions David conveniently forgot the relationship; but he chose to remember it now. The dingy little shop was filled with a conglomeration of old bric-a-brac, violins, books and jewellery, both antique and modern. Keeping the hansom waiting at the kerb, Salmon entered, and tendering the grubby little pawnbroker a familiar greeting, inquired politely after the health of his wife and family. Ikey Benjamin glanced at him suspiciously, and answered with short grunts. He was quite certain that the young swell had not driven all the way from Maida Vale to ask after Mrs. Ikey and all the tribe of Benjamin.

David produced his silver cigar-case, and proffered a choice Havana. The old man accepted it, sniffed at it approvingly, and finally clipped and lit it, whilst his face relaxed a little of its sternness.

“Tings looking up mit you, eh?” he queried, as his narrow eyes took in the fashionable cut of Salmon’s frock coat. “Done well in Sout’ Africa, I suppose, eh?”

“No, I lost every stiver I possessed,” answered David, as he made a casual survey of all the stock that the shop contained. “But I hope that I’m going to do well now. I’ve just got engaged to the daughter of one of the richest men at the Cape. You have heard of Bernie Franks, haven’t you, Ikey?”

“Heard of Bernie Franks? Have I heard of Queen Victoria!” said the old fellow with resentment. “Of course I have. I wish you _mazzletov_,[9] Dave, if you marry his daughter.”

“Thanks. Well now we’ll come to business.” David sat down on an overturned barrel, and produced a small piece of cardboard into which a circular hole had been cut. “I want a diamond ring for my young lady. And if you have one for sale cheap, you may as well have my money as any one else. Only it must be smart, and not too ancient.”

Mr. Benjamin shook his head. “Ain’t got nodings of the kind,” he said decisively. “My customers don’t go in for diamond rings. But I might be able to get you one in about a week.”

“That wouldn’t do. I must have it to-day. Miss Franks is going away to the north to-morrow, and I want her to take it with her.”

The old man was silent for a few seconds, whilst he puffed away at his cigar.

“Have you the cash right down?” he inquired, presently.

“No-o,” answered David, with hesitation. “But I’ll give you an I.O.U.; and I can guarantee the cheque--or its equivalent in solid gold--within a week. That’s good enough, isn’t it?”

But his cousin was not quite satisfied. He wanted some security, and the young man had none to offer. At length, however, they came to terms; and, calling to his son to mind the shop, Ikey Benjamin donned his Sabbath hat and overcoat, and jumped into the hansom accompanied by David.

They drove to Hatton Garden to interview a diamond merchant who was a close friend of Ikey’s; and after a long confabulation, and some amount of haggling, David became the possessor of a very pretty ring. He was so delighted with the transaction, that he wished to treat the two men to a bottle of _Kosher_ rum each, but as they happened both to be strict teetotalers, his offer was respectfully declined.

When he left them he hastened back to Maida Vale to present the ring to his beloved. Celia, however, was not at home, and Lottie informed him that she had been out all the morning with Enid and the Rev. Ralph Wilton.

“She seems to be quite taken up with the Wiltons and the Brookes,” Mrs. Friedberg complained. “And what she wants with that good-looking young clergyman, I’m sure I don’t know. I should put a stop to that friendship, if I were you, Dave. Put your foot down, and try to make her submit to your wishes.”

David put both feet down, and marched about the room with some impatience. The ring was burning a hole in his pocket, and, as he was dying to show it to some one, he gave Mrs. Friedberg the privilege of the first view.

She examined it with approval. “Celia ought to be pleased with that,” she said. “It’s a beautiful ring. But I hope you haven’t gone above your means, Dave?”

“Oh, that’s all right,” he answered reassuringly. “It did cost a fine penny, but I had to give her a decent one; and as she will practically pay for it herself, I suppose I mustn’t grumble.”

“But, my dear boy, you can’t possibly ask the girl outright to pay for her own engagement ring!” said Mrs. Friedberg, in astonishment. “Whatever would she think of you?”

“Of course I can’t,” he answered laughingly. “But I’ll manage it somehow, never fear.”

When Celia returned, he drew her aside into the back drawing-room; and after a short preliminary speech, which voiced some very excellent sentiments (according to his own ideas), he produced the ring. Celia blushed rosy red as he placed it on her finger; and her colour deepened still further when he sealed the compact with a hearty kiss. She hoped he did not intend to indulge in much lovemaking of this sort. She ought to have liked it, but she did not, and it made her feel quite uncomfortable.

“To think that, after to-morrow, I shall not see you for a whole three weeks!” he exclaimed, with a deep sigh. “How ever shall I be able to exist all that time without you?”

“The same as you did before you knew me, I suppose,” she answered, holding her left hand up, so that the diamonds caught the light and glittered in the sun. “By-the-by, David, I should very much like to give you a little present as a memento of this occasion, and I don’t quite know what to get for you.”

His eyes sparkled eagerly, and he almost made a hasty answer, but managed to control himself in time.

“As long as I have you, my darling,” he answered, pressing her hand, “I want nothing in the world besides. You have given me the best present possible, Celia--yourself.”

“And I admit I am a handful,” she returned, smiling. “But still I want you to accept a little souvenir, David, just to please me. What shall it be? An umbrella, or a card-case, or a pair of cuff-links?”

He rose from his chair at her side, and strode nervously about the room. Celia was still examining her ring, and did not see his face.

“Well, as you are so anxious to give me a present, dearest,” he said, after due consideration, “I should like something that has already been a sort of amulet to me--I mean your gold nugget. Of course, I don’t want it for its intrinsic value; but it is a curiosity, and has a history attached to it--it came from California, in the first place--and there is nothing you could give me that would please me more.”

If he had expected her to grant his request with alacrity he was mistaken. Sitting down to the piano she played a little _arpeggio_ passage; then veered round on the music-stool, and faced him.

“I’m so sorry, David,” she began, apologetically, “but I am afraid I cannot give you that. Isn’t there anything else you would like? You see it is so very valuable, and----”

“And I suppose it’s too good for me,” he put in hastily. “I am sorry I asked for it, but I thought you gave me my choice. And it isn’t really of any use to you, Celia, so you might as well give it to me as keep it locked up in Mr. Friedberg’s safe.”

“I would with pleasure,” she answered, “only---- Don’t look so cross, David, but sit down, and I will tell you just how it is. You know Miss Wilton’s brother, don’t you, or, at least, you’ve seen him? He is a clergyman in a very poor parish near Hoxton. The people there are horribly, sordidly poor. They are housed together like cattle instead of human beings, with the consequence that vice and misery are rife amongst them. Most of them couldn’t go to church even if they wanted to, because they haven’t any decent clothes to go in. Oh, I almost had the nightmare after Mr. Wilton had told me of some of the horrors of their daily lives! He would not have told me, only I asked him: for since I came to London, my eyes have been opened to all the miserable poverty and suffering there is in this great city, and I wanted to know more about it; I don’t think it’s right to close one’s eyes to these things. Mr. Wilton took me over his church and parish this morning; it is a dreadfully poor church, and not at all properly fitted up. Well, to come to the point, I thought that, having this nugget, which, as you say, is of no use to me, it would be a good thing to sell it and give the money to one of Mr. Wilton’s funds. I am sure my father would have no objection to my selling it for such a good cause; and Mr. Friedberg has promised to dispose of it for me. Don’t you think it a nice idea, David?”

She looked into his eyes, half appealingly, hoping to read therein approval and sympathy; but his brow had knit into a frown during her recital, and the expression on his face was one of ill-concealed displeasure.

Celia was, in reality, a tender-hearted, large-souled child; David considered her in this respect a silly little fool.

“I am quite sure your father would object,” he said decidedly. “The nugget has been in your family for years, and it would be a pity to sell it, unless you were absolutely driven to do so, which you never will be. Besides, what do you want to bother yourself about Mr. Wilton’s church for? If you have such charitable inclinations, why do you not interest yourself in the Jewish poor? Surely our own people should come first?”

“I am interested in the Jewish poor,” the girl answered seriously. “But they are in the minority, and are mostly well looked after. What does it matter, though, whether they be Jews or Gentiles; are they not all _God’s poor_? The reason I am particularly interested in Mr. Wilton’s parish, however, is because Ralph Wilton himself is such an energetic man, and so enthusiastic over his work. Enid told me that he actually set to and white-washed his church himself, because there were no funds to pay for it. And do you know why the men in Hoxton respect him? Not for his pulpit eloquence, nor for his straight living, but simply because they knew that, if it came to it, he could fight and rout any one of them--he is a ’versity man, and was one of the Oxford eight. Those are the sort of people he has to deal with--men who admire mere brute force a great deal more than the highest moral or spiritual qualities,--and it is Ralph Wilton’s vocation to tame the savage instincts within them, to raise their standard of the chief aim of life. That is why it would be such a pleasure to me to help on, if it were ever so little, what I consider such really noble effort.”

“I suppose it’s the Wiltons themselves who have imbued you with these high-flown notions,” said David, with annoyance, whilst he made up his mind to try and gain entire control over her fortune when they were married. “I should certainly not advise you to waste any money in that way, Celia. Don’t you see, how ever much you can give, it is only a drop in the ocean; and surely you have other things to think of instead of worrying yourself about the poor? What is the use of bothering your head about things that can’t be altered? There always have been poor people, and I suppose there always will be, and it’s my opinion that they are a great deal better off than those poor devils--beg pardon--of the ‘middle’ class, who are obliged to keep up an appearance on next to nothing a year.”

The girl was silent, whilst her fingers meditatively pressed the keys, and wandered off into a little minor melody of her own improvisation. She was fond of musing to the accompaniment of a sequence of chords played _pianissimo_; they helped her to think, or at least she imagined they did.

“David,” she said presently, as her fingers paused over an interrupted cadence, “have you ever realized the _responsibility of existence_, of being a human creature with mental capacity and a soul? I have, since I came to London; and at times it weighs heavily upon me--the burden and the stress of life.”

He glanced at her moodily, and murmured something under his breath which sounded not unlike “Rats!”

Aloud he said, “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand what you mean.”

That was just it; he did not understand! Celia sighed. Already there existed the little rift within the lute. She was beginning to find out that, although at first he had professed to be so entirely in sympathy with her, there was something in their two natures which did not altogether harmonize. Either he was too superficial for her, or else she was too serious for him: she was not sure which.

But David thought they had wandered too far away from the subject of the nugget.

“You wouldn’t refuse me the first little favour I have ever asked you, would you, darling?” he said, striving to introduce a tender inflection into his voice. “Why, Celia, if you were to ask me for everything I possessed, I would give it you without a moment’s hesitation.”

She rose from the piano, and regarded her ring contemplatively.

“Do you want the nugget so much as all that, David? Well, you shall have it. I don’t want you to think me selfish or unkind. I dare say Herbert will advance me the money I have promised to Mr. Wilton’s fund--he wouldn’t like me to break a promise, I know. Remind me to ask Mr. Friedberg for it to-night, and I will give it to you then.”

He took her in his arms, and thanked her effusively. It was a weight off his mind. Within a week the nugget was in pawn at Ikey Benjamin’s shop. David would not sell it outright at present, in case Celia should ask to see it at any time; but his cousin had given him sufficient money to pay for the ring, and with that he had perforce to be content. He considered that he had managed the affair very smartly.

It is not every man who can get his _fiancée_ to pay for her own ring.