A Ring of Rubies

I have often been asked to tell the story of the Ruby Ring, and I now do so for the sake of my children. It may instruct them a little; it will certainly amuse and interest them. I am nearly thirty now, but when the story of the ring happened, I was between nineteen and twenty. It is not so long ago, therefore, and all the events stand out quite clear and strong in my memory. We lived in the country, about thirty miles away from London. There were plenty of quick trains, even ten years ago, and my father and brothers used to go to town every morning, and return in time for a sort of mixed meal between dinner and supper, at night. My mother and I had rather a dull life; the only event of any moment in the twenty-four hours being the evening meal when the men of the family were at home. I was the only girl, and the youngest of the family. I was not petted nor made much of in any way; ten years ago girls were not fussed over as they are now. My father had none of the advanced ideas with regard to women; he thought the less girls were heard of outside their homes, the better. He was a very good, honourable man, but a great autocrat. What he said and thought was echoed both by my mother and brothers. They all preached to me from morning till night the doctrine of staying quietly at home, of doing nothing, and of waiting until your fortune dropped into your lap.