AT LOVE'S COST.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 11692, 29 June 1901, Page 3 (Supplement)

AT LOVE'S COST.

" BX CHARLES GAR VICE, Author of "Love, the Tyrant," "A Heritage of Hate." "Nell of Shorae Mills," " Heart for Heart," " She Trusted Him,", ' Etc., Etc.:

CHAPTER XXXVll.—(Continued). Mr. WordljEY was outside Laburnum Villa with the velocity of a whirlwind, and was" half-way on his road to the station before lie could get his breath or regain his self-pos-session. Being a lawyer, he, of course, went straight to the police; but he was shrewd enough not to go to Scotland Yard, but to the po'dce station near the terminus; for it seemed to him that it would be easier to trace Ida from that spot.. , Fortunately for him, he found an inspector in charge who was both intelligent and zealous. He listened attentively to the detailed statement and description which the lawyercalm enough now—furnished him, and after considering for a minute or two, during which. Mr. Word Icy waited in legal silence, asked: " Young lady any friends in London, sir?" Mr. WorcLley replied in the negative. " Think she has gone to a situation?" "No," replied Mr. Word ley; "she left suddenly; and I do not know what situation she could find. She is a lady, and 'unaccustomed (to earning her bread in any way." ' / " Then she has met with an accident, • 4 f /. \ said the inspector, with an air of convic- 1 tion. " God bless my soul, my good man!" exclaimed Mr. Wordley. "What makes you think that?" , •, " Experience, sir," replied the inspector, calmly. "Have you any idea how many accidents there are in a day in London? ; I suppose not. You'd be surprised if I told you. What was the date she was missing?"

Mr. Wordley told him, and he turned to a large red book like a ledger. " As I thought, sir," he said. "Young lady knocked down by a light van in Goodestreet, Minories. Dark hair, light eyes. Height, five feet nine. Age, about twentyone or two. Name on clothing, "Ida Heron".' " , _ Mr. Wordley sprang to his feet. "It is she!" he exclaimed. "Was she much hurt, isis she alivewhere is she? I must go to her at once." " London Hospital," replied the inspector, succinctly, as he turned to a subordinate. "Call a cab 1 !" It was not a particularly slow hansom, and it did not take very long to get from the police station to the hospital; but to Mr. Wordley the horse seemed to crawl, and the minutes to grow into days. He leapt out of the hansom, and actually, ran into the hall. " You've a patient—lda Heron," he panted to the hall porter. The man turned to his book. " Yes, sir," he said. " Discharged yesterday." Mr. Wordley staggered against the glass partition of the porter's box and groaned. " Can you tell me— he began. "Has she.left any address? I— am her solicitor. Excuse my being hurried: I want her par- . ticularly." The porter looked at him sympathetically —everybody as sympathetic at a hospital, from the head physician and that puissant lady, the matron, down to the boy who cleans the brass plate. "Won't you . sit down, sir?" he said. " The young lady was discharged yesterday, and I can't tell you where she's gone; in fact, though I remember her being brought in—run-over casel don't remember her going out. Perhaps you'd like to step upstairs and see the sister of the ward she was in, the Alexandra?" While he was speaking, and Mr. Wordley was trying to racover command of himself, a black-dad figure came down the hall, and pausing before the large tin box provided for contributions, dropped something into it. Mr. Wordley watched her absently; she raised her head, and he sprang forward with "Miss Ida!" on his lips. Ida uttered a cry and staggered a little; for she was not yet as strong as the girl who used to ride through Herondale, and Mr. Wordley caught her by both hands and supported her. "Thank God! thank God!" was all he could exclaim 1 for a minute. " My dear child! my dear Miss Ida. Sit down He drew her to one of the long benches and sat down beside her. To his credit, be it stated, that the tears were in his eyes, and for a moment or two he was incapable of speech; indeed, it was Ida who, womanlike, first recovered her self-possession. , "Mr. Wordley! Is it really you? How did you know? How - did you find me? I am so glad: oh, so glad She choked back the tears that sprang to her eyes and forced a laugh for again, woman-like, she saw that he was more upset than even she was. He found his voice after awhile, but it- was a very husky one. "My dear girl, my dear Miss Ida," he said, "you are not more glad than I am. I have been almost out of my mind for the last few hours. I came to London all in a hurry. Most important news—went to your cousin's— Oh, Lord! what a fool that man is! Heard you had run away— at all surprised. Should have rim away myself long before you did. Came up to London in search, of youjust heard you'd gone from here." ... "I ought to have gone yesterday," said Ida, " but they let me stay." ' . ./ " God bless them he panted. " But how jpale you look-r-and. thin., You've been, ill,

( / 7 ——".I.ip: - ■ very. ill; and youVo been unhappy, " 'and' I ' K ' Ifc lfc " t * fool;iS to let lill you go! It was all my fault! I ought to have • : known better than to have frosted vou to - that sanctimonious idiot;; vMy dearl've- ■ ' great news for you!" . 1 ' - " 4 " Have you?" said Ida,' patting hi 3 IssMg soothingly— had caught something of ''' & the gentle, soothing way of the sister and ~ " nurses. "Must you tell mo now? You are' • tired and upset." -* "• £ " I must tell yoa this " very minute 1 or I shall burst," said Mr. Wordley. "My dear child, prepare yourself for the most astound-. j ' >";? ing, the most wonderful news. " I don't want. ' ■ to startle you, but I don't; feel as though 1:4 could keep it for another half-hour. Do you ; "** think I could'have-a glass of water?" The porter, still' sympathetic, at a sign -'.0 from. Ida, produced the glass of .water and '•*, discreetly retired. " . : . "Now," said Mr. : Wordley. with intense gravity, " prepare to be startled. Bo calm,. " my dear child, as I 'am; you see I am quite Jf--;:" calm!' He was perspiring at every pore, ii'f,:' and was mopping his forehead with a huge AO/; "," silk handkerchief. "I have just made : a'-.v/ .x great discovery." Yon are aware that Herondale, the whole estate, is heavily mortgaged, and that there was a foreclosure; that means that the whole. of it would have passed away from you." ":Vv Ida. sighed. "Yes, I know," she said, in a low voice. " Very well, then. I went over to the house the other day to —well, to look out ' , any little thing which I thought you might ■ like to buy at the sale—" . Ida pressed his hand and turned her head away., _ ' ■ - "It was a sad business, sad, very sad! and. ' I wandered about the place like alike a" lost spirit. I was almost as fond of it as you are, my dear. After I had been , over . ■ the house I went into the grounds and fe.nnd ■ : - myself in the mined chapel. Donald and V/' Bess followed me, and Bess—what a sharp •: little thing she is, bless I—she began to , rout about, and - presently she began to dig ' , with her claws in a corner under the ruined window. I was so lost in thought- that I stood and watched her in an absent kind of >: way; but presently I heard her bark, and saw her tearing away like mad, as if she had found a rat or a rabbit. I went up to where she was clawing and saw— do you % think—" .< " Ida shook her head and smiled. "I don't know; was it a rabbit?" "No!" responded Mr. Wordley, with sunpressed excitement. "It was the top of a ' tin box—" - ' . "A tin box echoed Ida. " Yes," he said, with an emphatic nod. "1 . called Jason to bring a spade; hut I could scarcely wait, and I found myself clawing ' ,' like—like one of the dogs, my dear. . Jason. . came and we had that box up and I opened y it. And what do you think I.found?" s ;V Ida shook her head gently; then she i ' " started slightly, as she remembered the •' night Stafford and she had watched her . . ... father coming, in his sleep, from the. ruined ' chapel. t/'jM " Something of my father's?" • Mr. Wordley nodded impressively. " Yes, it was something of your father's.. ' It was a large box, my dear, and it con- " ' tained— do you think?" \ -li '. w " Papers?"- ventured Ida. , " Securities, my dear Miss Ida, securities Jj -i. for a very, large amount! The box was full •' of them; and a little farther off wo found another tin case quite as full. They. were • .V? securities in some of the best and' soundest ' ' companies, and they are worth « in enormous sum of money!" • Ida stared at him, as if she did not realise - the significance of his words. : Vi "

"An enormous sum of money," he repeated. All the while—God forgive me!— ' I was under the impression that your father v. was letting things slide, and was doing nothing to save the estate and, to provide lor . - you, lie was speculating and investing and • "doing it with a skill and shrewdness which ■ , could not have been surpassed by the most • ; astute and business-like of men. His judg- . ment was almost infallible; he seems scarcely r ever to have made a mistake. : It was one . ; . ■ of those extraordinary cases in which every- ■ thing a man touches tunis to gold. There .=-/•■ •are mining shares there which I would not have bought at a. farthing apiece; but your - father bought them, and they've every one of them, or nearly every one of them, turned 'i up trumps. Some of them which he bought . . " J for a few shillingsgold and diamond shares —aro worth hundreds of pounds 'hundreds?- ;■> thousands! My dear," he took her hand and - patted it as ii' ho were trying to break the ; * shock to her; "your poor father, whom we ' all regarded as an insolvent bookworm, . actually died by far and away the richest man in the county!" ' * Ida looked at him as if she did not even yet quite understand. She passed her thin . - hand over her brow and drew a long breath. "Do you meando you mean that. I am no longer poor, Mr. Wordley?" she asked. : Mr. Wordley laughed so suddenly and* • loudly that lie quite startled the hall porter in his little glass box. i > " My dear child;" lie said; slowly and impressively, " you are rich,: not poor; im- ; mense-ly . rich! I do not myself yet quite know how much..you are worth;, but you r may take it from me that it is a very large '' sura, a very large sura indeed; -:.. Now, you . .'r are not going to faint, my dear 1" For Ida's 1 'ir eves had closed and her hands had clasped each other spasmodically. - "No, no," she said in a low voice. "But V it is so sudden, so unexpected, that I cannot ;. ; realise it. It seems to me as if I were lying 7 in the cot up-stairss and dreaming. No, I ;; - cannot realise that I can go hick to Heron- . dale; I suppose I can go back?"she asked, with a sudden piteousnesa that very nearly ? brought the tears to Mr. ' Wordley's eyes. " Go back, my dear!" he exclaimed. ' Of course you can go back! The place belongs . . .. to you. Why, I've already giver notice that lam going to pay off the mortgages. You •. --. will get every inch of the land back you will be the richest lady in the county —yes, v in the whole county ! The old glories of the dear old house can be revived; you can ■ ; .- queen it there as the Her of old used to '• queen it. And everybody will bo proud and delighted to see you doing it! As for me, Ij am ashamed to say that 1 have almost lost ' my head over the business, and have be- . haved like—well, anything but like a staid and sober old solicitor."

He • laughed, and blew his nose, and nodded with a shamefaced joy which af- ; £-, fectcd Ida even more than his wonderful news had done. . : "How can I thank you for all your good- ' ness to me," she murmured, a little Vok- *. enly. . "Thank me! Don't you attempt to thank ; ' me, or I shall break down altogether; for I've been the stupidest and most• woodenheaded idiot that ever disgraced a noble profession.., I ought to have seen through your father's affectation of miserliness . and 'indifference. Anybody but a silly old numskull would have done so. ~ But. my dear, r \ why are we staying here, why don't ire go away at . once You'd like ,to go back" to ..; Herondale by the first train? You must bate the sight of this place, I should think." '* "No, no," said Ida, gently. "Yes, I would like to go back to Herondo.leall, yes, as soon as possible. But I should like to" see someone before I go— sister, the nurse, who have been so good to me. You are —she paused and went on. shyly, " you are sure that there is no mistake, that I have some money, am rich?" "Rich as Croesus, my dear child," he responded, with a laugh. She blushed still more deeply. "Then, have you— you any money with you, Mr. Wordley? I mean quite a . . - large sum of money?" "Not a very large sum, my dear," he replied, rather puzzled. "About twenty or . thirty pounds, perhaps." A.Ida's face fell. . " Oh, that is iiot nearly enough," she mur- • mured. ' "Eh?" lie asked. "But I've got my cheque-book with me. How much do you want? And, forgive me, my dear Miss Ida, but may I ask what you want it for?" "Can I have a cheque for five hundred pounds?" Ida asked, timidly. - . Five thousand, fifty thousand, _my dear !' .j he responded promptly, and with no little s;; i pride and satisfaction. ■ '• i, " Five hundred will do—for the present, she said, a little nervously. - the porter will let you draw it out. , Still puzzled, Mr. Word ey went into the , porter's box and took out his cheque-beoic. ,• " Make -it payable to the hospital—and give* it to me, please," said Ida, in a low V °The old mau's face cleared, and he nodded. ' 5 "Of coarse,) of course! God bless you, my dear I might]have known what, was in mat good, grateful heart of yours. £«e here Ive made it out;for a thousand-pounds. Thais v. . five hundred for . you and, five hundred • for • meand don't.you:say a word to stop mo;- , < for I'm only, too. grateful for. the. idea-,, •

-will cool me down; and upon my word, I 'v. -]feel; so excited, so above, and beyond myself, ithat I want some safety-valve like this, or I " . should fall to dancing in the hall and so disgrace .myself and the noble profession to .which I belong." -, •With ;the folded cheque in. her hand Ida -. took him up the many stone steps ,in the . Alexandra ward. The gentle-°,yed sister, ' who had parted from her so reluctantly, was naturally surprised :to see her return so soon, ' • and accompanied by a fatherly and prosperous old gentleman; who kept close to her as if he were afraid she might be spirited , from him. , "I have come back to—to say good-bye sister," said Ida, her voice faltering ■ a°little, but her eyes beaming as they had not beamed for many a day; "and I want to give you something, something for the hospital— is from my dear friend here, Mr. Wordley. who has just found me. And I want you not to open it until we have gone say, for half an hour. And I am going to write to you as I promised; and yon can ■write to me if you will be so kind; for I can give you the address now. It is on the back of the cheque." She had written it in the porter's box. "I am going—home. Something has happened. But I will write and tell you; now I can only ,sav" her voice broke and trembled " good-bye, again, and thank you .with til my heart." She drew the sister to her and kissed her ; : and Mr. Wordley shook the sister's hand,, and blew his nose so loudly that the patients, who had been watching tifcm eagerly, nodded to each other and exchanged significant glances, and there was a suppressed excitement in the ward which found adequate expression when, half an hour afterwards, the sister, with flushed cheek and quavering voice, made them acquainted with Ida's gift. , 11 And now," said Mr. Wordley, alter he had shaken hands with several of the officials. including the porter, " and now, my dear Ida, .for Herondale and Home! Hi, cab!" (To be continued on "Wednesday next.)