Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
CHAPTER VI.
THE DIAMOND EAR-RINGS.
Jane stepped into the passage, and Madame De Marke closed the door after
her. In the upper portion of the door was a narrow sash window, covered
inside with a faded, red valance, through which the light came with a
dull, lurid glow. It will be remembered that Madame De Marke had kindled
the end of a tallow candle after the entrance of her visitor, and thus
the meagre room was in some sort illuminated.
Jane naturally kept her eyes on this curtain, for all without was
profoundly dark. All at once she discovered a corner of the faded maroon
folded back, leaving a small, triangular corner of the glass uncovered.
To this corner the nurse bent her eye, and saw Madame De Marke half-way
under the bed, where she looked more like a bundle of old clothes
crowded away from sight, than a human being.
By her side, upon the soiled floor, stood an ink-bottle with its neck
choked up by the swaling stump of her candle. For a moment, the body of
Madame De Marke almost disappeared under the bed, then she crept slowly
backward, upon her hands and knees, dragging what had once been a small
soap-box, after her.
When once free from the bed, Madame De Marke arose softly to her feet,
crept toward the door, and tried the lock to be certain that it was
secure. Then she gave the valance a pull, which, fortunately for Jane,
rather increased the scope of vision, which, for the moment, she was
admonished not to enjoy.
After satisfying herself that all was right, Madame De Marke seated
herself on the floor, and drawing the ink-bottle close to her side,
unlocked one of the iron bands that had been fastened around the box,
and cautiously lifted the lid, raising the light in her left hand as she
proceeded. Again she looked over her shoulder, holding her breath and
half closing the lid. But perfect silence gave her confidence, and with
a slow movement, as if each motion were a pang, she began to count out
some gold pieces, which she laid in her lap with great caution, lest the
gold should clink, and thus reach the ears which she knew must be
listening outside the door.
All at once she stopped, held a half-eagle between her fingers, where it
began to quiver and gleam from the unsteady motion of her hand, while a
look of indescribable craft stole over her face. With both her eager
hands, she huddled the gold back into its repository, and in its place
drew forth a tattered morocco jewel-case that once had been purple, but
had now a most shabby appearance, till she unclosed the lid and revealed
a treasure that made Jane Kelly’s heart leap in her bosom.
The concentrated light of the candle fell within the casket, and she
knew by the rainbow gleams and sparkles flashing out, that jewels of
price were almost within her grasp.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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