The Argosy — page 277: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

260 The Missing Rubies. It was the work of a few seconds to put on a light overcoat, wrap a silk muffler round his neck, hiding the lower part of the face, and quietly leave the room. He went swiftly and noiselessly downstairs —so swiftly and noiselessly that he almost came into collision with a lady who was just coming up. Mrs. Milton’s house was always weil lighted, and the encounter took place under a gas-lamp which illumined the space at the bottom of the stairs. Vordenberg, as he stepped aside and murmured an apology, had a full and distinct view of Madame Valerot. Paulina Valerot was one of those womer who defy all analysis. There were moments in her life when she looked almost as old as she really was. But to-night she had enjoyed herself, and her beautiful brown eyes were still radiant with the light of pleasure. Her soft round cheeks were flushed ; a fleecy white shawl was folded so carelessly over the full bust that one could see the blaze of gems upon her neck. Bracelets were flashing on her plump white arms; she wore a pale blue satin gown, that glistened in the gaslight. The childish head, with the short auburn hair, was uncovered ; the dark eyes looked up at Vordenberg with a startled, innocent glance. She went her way up to her rooms, and he passed out into the street, to wander for a little while under the light of the stars. So that woman—so brilliant, so sumptuous—was little Paulina Lorenski, whose father (if he were still alive) was wearing out his days in the Siberian mines. It was not pleasant to think of her, with all those gems on her neck and wrists. He would have been better pleased to have seen a wimple on the bright head, and a crucifix upon her breast. Do men ever think of the price that women pay for jewels ? Some of them do; and (even while they bestow the baubles with a lavish hand) they feel that souls are worth more than diamonds. Walking slowly under those quiet stars, Vordenberg thought of the two girls who were fated to be the chosen loves of his life. One of them, torn suddenly’ from earth and bliss, had been a saint in heaven for many a year; and the other, lying up there, in that room where a light was burning, was breaking her heart for the sake of another man. Yet far better was such a lot as theirs than that of the woman he had just seen. He turned back to the house again with a bitter little laugh; and a stray verse from Owen Meredith came drifting into his head as he opened the door :— ‘ Could we find out her heart through that velvet and lace: Can it beat without rumpling her sumptuous dress ? She will show us her shoulder, her bosom, her face ; But what the heart’s like, we must guess.”’ (To be continued. ) COMICEOOOKS.C© '