Tin-Types Taken in the Streets of New York | Page 3

held it to my bosom, have I bedewed it with my tears--"
"Oh, yes," interrupted Becky, with a satirical smile, "that's what's made

the colors so fine, I suppose."
"Becky, do not taunt me," Mr. Ricketty answered, reproachfully. "This
is a sad hour to me. What'll you give for it?"
"Where did it come from?" asked Becky, shrewdly. "We like to know
what we're doing when we buy pearl necklaces at retail."
"It was my mother's," replied Mr. Ricketty, touching his handkerchief
to his eyes. "When she breathed her last she placed these pearls about
my neck. 'Stephen,' she said, 'keep them for my sake.'"
Becky hesitated. Not that she was at all impressed with this story of
how the necklace came into Mr. Ricketty's possession. She was fully
alive to the risk she ran in entering into any bargain with gentlemen of
Mr. Ricketty's appearance, but the luster of the pearls burned in Becky's
eyes.
"Well," she said, with a vast assumption of indifference, "I'll give you
fifty dollars for them."
Mr. Ricketty cast forth at her one long, scornful look and then started to
go out.
"Oh, well," she called after him, "I'll be liberal. I'll make it a hundred."
"No, Becky, you wont. You'll not get that glorious relic for the price of
a champagne supper. I will die. I will take my pearls and go and jump
off the bridge, and together we'll float with the turning tide out into the
blue sea. Adieu, Rebecca, so beautiful and yet so cold, adieu! How
could Heaven have made thy face so fair, thine eyes so full of light, thy
ruddy lips so merry, but thy heart so hard! I press thy hand for the last
time, fair Rebecca--"
"Well, I like that," cried Becky; "seeing that it's the first. You're very
gay for a man of your years, and you'd best keep your fine words for
them that wants 'em,--I don't"; and Becky withdrew her hand, detaining,
however, the pearls within it.

Becky was not ill-favored. Her black, silky hair, as fine as a Skye
terrier's, curled around a comely head. Her complexion was soft and
dark, and her figure light and easy in its movement. These peculiarities,
together with her way of fondling the pearls, did not escape Mr.
Ricketty's calculating observation.
"Becky," he began blandly.
"Who told you to call me 'Becky'?" she angrily demanded.
"Daughter of Canaan, lend me thine ear, itself as fair as any of these
gems of the Southern Sea."
"Oh, come off!" said Becky.
"It has cost me many pangs to bring these jewels here--"
"And you're going to sell them at so much the pang, I s'pose."
"For hours together have I walked up and down the Bowery, trying to
rouse my feeble courage. But when I would stop under the three golden
balls, I seemed to see a sneer on every passer's lips. They were all
saying, 'There goes Steve Ricketty, about to sell his fond mother's
pearls.' The thought choked me, Becky, it burned my filial heart."
"Don't seem as if it did your cheek no harm," observed Becky dryly.
"But when I saw your face through the window there, so beautiful and
sympathetic, I said to myself, 'There is a true woman. She will feel for
me and my grief.' Suppose we make it two hundred and fifty. Come,
Becky, the pearls are yours for two hundred and fifty."
"I wont."
"Am I deceived? No, no, it can't be true. I will not believe--"
"I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you two hundred to get rid of you."
Mr. Ricketty picked up a little hand-glass that lay upon the counter and

placed it before her face.
"Look there," he said, "and tell me what it is that makes Rebecca so
heartless. Not those lustrous eyes, so frank and warm; not that--"
"Oh, now, stop that."
"Not that sensitive, shapely nose--"
"Well, I thank goodness it's got no such bulge on it as yours."
"Not those refined lips, arched like the love-god's bow and many times
as dangerous; not those cheeks--those soft peach-tinted cheeks, telling
in dainty blushes--"
"Oh, six bright stars!"
"Of a soul pure as a sunbeam--"
"Now, I want you to stop and go 'way. I wont take your old pearls at
any price."
"Not that brow--that fair, enameled brow--nor yet that creamy throat.
Think, sweet Becky, just how these pearls would look clasped with
their diamond catch about that creamy throat. I fear to show you lest
their luster pale. But yet, I will! See!" and catching up the jewels he
threw them about her neck and held the glass steadily before her.
Becky looked. It was evidently not a new idea to Becky. She had all
along been considering just the situation Mr.