That Stick ...

Nothing could be done but to pursue the mother p. 259to a village about five miles off, where she was traced out with some difficulty, and persuaded to refer to her son George’s letter, where he mentioned the safe arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Sam, but without a word about their bringing a child with them.  This omission seemed to dash all former hopes, so as to show Frank how strong they had been, and besides, there had been more than time for Herbert to have written after reaching Toronto.

However, the one step of knowing George Jones’s address had been gained, and with no more than this, they had to return, intending to see whether Ida had any notion as to what was to be done.

It was evening when Lord Northmoor came in.  Mrs. Morton was alone, and as she looked up, was answered by his air of disappointment as he shook his head.

‘Oh, it is so dreadful,’ she exclaimed, ‘it is all over the place!  We met Mr. Brady and his sisters, and they cut Ida dead.  She is quite broken-hearted, indeed, she is.’

‘Then she has told you all?’

‘She could not help it.  Mrs. Rollstone came to ask me if it was true—as a friend, she said, I should say it was more like an enemy, and Mrs. Hall came too, wanting to see Ida, but I saw her instead.  The wicked woman to have given in!  And they have gone and told every one, and the police will be after my poor child.’

‘No, they would not interfere unless I prosecuted, and that I certainly should not do unless it proved the only means of tracing my child.  I came home intending to ask Ida if she gave any directions p. 260about him.  It seems certain that he was not brought to Toronto.’

‘Indeed!  She made sure that he would be there!’ exclaimed Mrs. Morton, much dismayed.  ‘Let me go and see.  She is so much upset altogether that she declares that she cannot see you this evening.’

Mrs. Morton went, and presently brought word that Ida was horrified at hearing that little Michael was not with the Joneses.  She had trusted Louisa to treat him kindly, and only dispose of him to some of those Canadian farmers, who seemed to have an unlimited appetite for adopted children, and the last hope was that this might have been the case, though opportunities could have been few on the way to Toronto.

Ida had cried over the tidings.  It must have been worse than she had ever intended that the child should be treated; and the shock was great both to her and to her mother.

Mrs. Morton really seemed quite broken down, both by sorrow and fear for the boy, and by the shame, the dread of the story getting into the papers, and the sense that she could never go on living at Westhaven; and her brother-in-law quite overwhelmed her by saying that he should do all in his power to prevent publicity, and that he entirely exonerated her from all blame in the matter.

‘Ah, Frank dear,’ she said, ‘you are so good, it makes me feel what a sinful woman I am!  I don’t mean that I ever gave in for a moment to that nonsense of poor Ida’s which was her only bit of excuse.  No one that had ever been a mother could, p. 261you know; but I won’t say that I did not grumble at my boy losing his chances.’

‘I don’t wonder!’

‘And—and I never would listen to you and Mary about poor Ida.  I let her idle and dress, and read all those novels, and it is out of them she got that monstrous notion.  You little know what I have gone through with that girl, Frank, so different from the other two.  Oh! if I could only begin over again!’

‘Perhaps,’ said Frank, full of pity, ‘this terrible shock may open her eyes, and by God’s blessing be the beginning of better things.’

‘Oh, Frank, you are a perfect angel ever to bear the sight of us again!’ cried the poor woman, ever violent in her feelings and demonstrations.  ‘Hark!  What’s that?—I can’t see any one.’

‘Please, ma’am, it’s Miss Rollstone, with a letter for his Lordship.’

p. 262CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE CLUE

‘BEST OF ROSES,—