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- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «Timothy Crump's Ward: A Story of American Life by Jr. Horatio Alger (english novels to improve english txt) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
Mrs. Clifton seated herself quietly. She did not, as usual, offer him her hand. Full of his own plans, he did not notice this omission.
“How long is it since Ida was lost?” inquired Somerville.
Mrs. Clifton started in some surprise. She had not expected him to introduce this subject.
“Eight years,” she said.
“And you believe she yet lives?”
“Yes, I am certain of it.”
John Somerville did not understand her aright. He felt only that a mother never gives up hope.
“Yet it is a long time,” he said.
“It is—a long time to suffer,” she said. “How could any one have the heart to work me this great injury? For eight years I have led a sad and solitary life,—years that might have been made glad by Ida's presence.”
There was something in her tone which puzzled John Somerville, but he was far enough from suspecting the truth.
“Rose,” he said, after a pause. “Do you love your child well enough to make a sacrifice for the sake of recovering her?”
“What sacrifice?” she asked, fixing her eyes upon him.
“A sacrifice of your feelings.”
“Explain. You talk in enigmas.”
“Listen, then. I, too, believe Ida to be living. Withdraw the opposition you have twice made to my suit, promise me that you will reward my affection by your land if I succeed, and I will devote myself to the search for Ida, resting day nor night till I am able to place her in your arms. Then, if I succeed, may I claim my reward?”
“What reason have you for thinking you should find her?” asked Mrs. Clifton, with the same inexplicable manner.
“I think I have got a clew.”
“And are you not generous enough to exert yourself without demanding of me this sacrifice?”
“No, Rose,” he said, “I am not unselfish enough.”
“But, consider a moment. Will not even that be poor atonement enough for the wrong you have done me,”—she spoke rapidly now,—“for the grief and loneliness and sorrow which your wickedness and cruelty have wrought?”
“I do not understand you,” he said, turning pale.
“It is enough to say that I have seen the woman who is now in prison,—your paid agent,—and that I need no assistance to recover Ida. She is in my house.”
What more could be said?
John Somerville rose, and left the room. His grand scheme had failed.
CHAPTER XXVII. CONCLUSION.
“I AM beginning to feel anxious about Jack,” said Mrs. Crump. “It's almost a week since we heard from him. I'm afraid he's got into some trouble.”
“Probably he's too busy to write,” said the cooper.
“I told you so,” said Rachel, in one of her usual fits of depression. “I told you Jack wasn't fit to be sent on such an errand. If you'd only taken my advice, you wouldn't have had so much worry and trouble about him now. Most likely he's got into the House of Reformation, or somewhere. I knew a young man once who went away from home, and never came back again. Nobody ever knew what became of him till his body was found in the river, half-eaten by fishes.”
“How can you talk so, Rachel?” said Mrs. Crump, indignantly; “and of your own nephew, too!”
“This is a world of trial and disappointment,” said Rachel; “and we might as well expect the worst, because it's sure to come.”
“At that rate there wouldn't be much joy in life,” said the cooper. “No, Rachel, you are wrong. God didn't send us into the world to be melancholy. He wants us to enjoy ourselves. Now I have no idea that Jack has jumped into the river. Then again, if he has, he can swim.”
“I suppose,” said Rachel, “you expect him to come home in a coach and four, bringing Ida with him.”
“Well,” said the cooper, good-humoredly, “I don't know but that is as probable as your anticipations.”
Rachel shook her head dismally.
“Bless me!” said Mrs. Crump, in a tone of excitement; “there's a carriage just stopped at our door, and—yes, it is Jack, and Ida too!”
The strange (sic) fulfilment of the cooper's suggestion struck even Aunt Rachel. She, too, hastened to the window, and saw a handsome carriage drawn, not by four horses, but by two elegant bays, standing before the door. Jack had already jumped out, and was now assisting Ida to alight. No sooner was Ida on firm ground than she ran into the house, and was at once clasped in the arms of her adopted mother.
“O mother!” she exclaimed; “how glad I am to see you once more.”
“Haven't you a kiss for me too, Ida?” said the cooper, his face radiant with joy. “You don't know how much we've missed you.”
“And I'm so glad to sec you all, and Aunt Rachel, too.”
To her astonishment, Aunt Rachel, for the first time in the child's remembrance, kissed her. There was nothing wanting to her welcome home.
Scarcely had the spinster done so than her observant eyes detected what had escaped the cooper and his wife, in their joy.
“Where did you get this dress, Ida?” she asked.
Then, for the first time, all observed that Ida was more elegantly dressed than when she went away. She looked like a young princess.
“That Mrs. Hardwick didn't give you this gown, I'll be bound,” said she.
“Oh, I've so much to tell you,” said Ida, breathlessly. “I've found my mother,—my other mother!”
A pang struck to the honest hearts of Timothy Crump and his wife. Ida must leave them. After all the happy years during which they had watched over and cared for her, she must leave them at length.
Just then, an elegantly-dressed lady appeared at the threshold. Smiling, radiant with happiness, Mrs. Clifton seemed, to the cooper's family, almost a being from another sphere.
“Mother,” said Ida, taking her hand, and leading her to Mrs. Crump, “this is my other mother, who has always taken such good care of me and loved me so well.”
“Mrs. Crump,” said Mrs. Clifton, “how can I ever thank you for your care
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