CHAPTER XXXII
A PROVIDENTIAL MEETING
"By gracious, if that isn't Ida!" exclaimed Jack, in profound surprise.
He had been sauntering along Chestnut Street, listlessly troubled by thethought that though he had given Mrs. Hardwick into custody, he wasapparently no nearer the discovery of his young ward than before. Whatsteps should he take to find her? He could not decide. In his perplexityhis eyes rested suddenly upon the print of the "Flower Girl."
"Yes," he said, "that is Ida, fast enough. Perhaps they will know in thestore where she is to be found."
He at once entered the store.
"Can you tell me anything about the girl in that picture?" he asked,abruptly, of the nearest clerk.
"It is a fancy picture," he said. "I think you would need a long time tofind the original."
"It has taken a long time," said Jack. "But you are mistaken. That is apicture of my sister."
"Of your sister!" repeated the salesman, with surprise, half incredulous.
"Yes," persisted Jack. "She is my sister."
"If it is your sister," said the clerk, "you ought to know where she is."
Jack was about to reply, when the attention of both was called by asurprised exclamation from a lady who had paused beside them. Her eyesalso were fixed upon the "Flower Girl."
"Who is this?" she asked, in visible excitement. "Is it taken fromlife?"
"This young man says it is his sister," said the clerk.
"Your sister?" repeated the lady, her eyes fixed inquiringly upon Jack.
In her tone there was a mingling both of surprise and disappointment.
"Yes, madam," answered Jack, respectfully.
"Pardon me," she said, "there is very little personal resemblance. Ishould not have suspected that you were her brother."
"She is not my own sister," explained Jack, "but I love her just thesame."
"Do you live in Philadelphia? Could I see her?" asked the lady, eagerly.
"I live in New York, madam," said Jack; "but Ida was stolen from usabout three weeks since, and I have come here in pursuit of her. I havenot been able to find her yet."
"Did you call her Ida?" demanded the lady, in strange agitation.
"Yes, madam."
"My young friend," said the woman, rapidly, "I have been much interestedin the story of your sister. I should like to hear more, but not here.Would you have any objection to coming home with me, and telling me therest? Then we will together concert measures for recovering her."
"You are very kind, madam," said Jack, bashfully; for the lady waselegantly dressed, and it had never been his fortune to converse with alady of her social position. "I shall be glad to go home with you, andshall be very much obliged for your advice and assistance."
"Then we will drive home at once."
With natural gallantry, Jack assisted the lady into the carriage, and,at her bidding, got in himself.
"Home, Thomas!" she directed the driver; "and drive as fast as possible."
"Yes, madam."
"How old was your sister when your parents adopted her?" askedMrs. Clifton.
Jack afterward ascertained that this was her name.
"About a year old, madam."
"And how long since was that?" asked the lady, waiting for the answerwith breathless interest.
"Seven years since. She is now eight."
"It must be," murmured the lady, in low tones. "If it is indeed, as Ihope, my life will indeed be blessed."
"Did you speak, madam?"
"Tell me under what circumstances your family adopted her."
Jack related briefly how Ida had been left at their door in her infancy.
"And do you recollect the month in which this happened?"
"It was at the close of December, the night before New Year's."
"It is, it must be she!" ejaculated Mrs. Clifton, clasping her hands,while tears of joy welled from her eyes.
"I--I don't understand," said Jack, naturally astonished.
"My young friend," said the lady, "our meeting this morning seemsprovidential. I have every reason to believe that this child--youradopted sister--is my daughter, stolen from me by an unknown enemy atthe time of which I speak. From that day to this I have never been ableto obtain the slightest clew that might lead to her discovery. I havelong taught myself to think of her as dead."
It was Jack's turn to be surprised. He looked at the lady beside him.She was barely thirty. The beauty of her girlhood had ripened into thematurer beauty of womanhood. There was the same dazzling complexion, thesame soft flush upon the cheeks. The eyes, too, were wonderfully likeIda's. Jack looked, and as he looked he became convinced.
"You must be right," he said. "Ida is very much like you."
"You think so?" said Mrs. Clifton, eagerly.
"Yes, madam."
"I had a picture--a daguerreotype--taken of Ida just before I lost her;I have treasured it carefully. I must show it to you when we get to myhouse."
The carriage stopped before a stately mansion in a wide and quietstreet. The driver dismounted and opened the door. Jack assisted Mrs.Clifton to alight.
Bashfully our hero followed the lady up the steps, and, at her bidding,seated himself in an elegant parlor furnished with a splendor whichexcited his admiration and wonder. He had little time to look about him,for Mrs. Clifton, without pausing to remove her street attire, hasteneddownstairs with an open daguerreotype in her hand.
"Can you remember Ida when she was first brought to your house?" sheasked. "Did she look anything like this picture?"
"It is her image," answered Jack, decidedly. "I should know itanywhere."
"Then there can be no further doubt," said Mrs. Clifton. "It is my childyou have cared for so long. Oh! why could I not have known it before?How many lonely days and sleepless nights it would have spared me! ButGod be thanked for this late blessing! I shall see my child again."
"I hope so, madam. We must find her."
"What is your name, my young friend?"
"My name is Harding--Jack Harding."
"Jack?" repeated the lady, smiling.
"Yes, madam; that is what they call me. It would not seem natural to becalled John."
"Very well," said Mrs. Clifton, with a smile which went to Jack's heartat once, and made him think her, if any more beautiful than Ida; "as Idais your adopted sister--"
"I call her my ward. I am her guardian, you know."
"You are a young guardian. But, as I was about to say, that makes usconnected in some way, doesn't it? I won't call you Mr. Harding, forthat would sound too formal. I will call you Jack."
"I wish you would," said our hero, his face brightening with pride.
It almost upset him to be called Jack by a beautiful lady, who every dayof her life was accustomed to live in a splendor which it seemed to Jackcould not be exceeded even by royal state. Had Mrs. Clifton been QueenVictoria herself, he could not have felt a profounder respect andveneration for her than he did already.
"Now, Jack," said Mrs. Clifton, in a friendly manner which delighted ourhero, "we must take measures to discover Ida immediately. I want you totell me about her disappearance from your house, and what steps you havetaken thus far toward finding her."
Jack began at the beginning and described the appearance of Mrs.Hardwick; how she had been permitted to carry Ida away under falserepresentations, and the manner in which he had tracked her toPhiladelphia. He spoke finally of her arrest, and her obstinate refusalto impart any information as to where Ida was concealed.
Mrs. Clifton listened attentively and anxiously. There were moredifficulties in the way than she had supposed.
"Can you think of any plan, Jack?" she asked, anxiously.
"Yes, madam," answered Jack. "The man who painted the picture of Ida mayknow where she is to be found."
"You are right," said the lady. "I will act upon your hint. I will orderthe carriage again instantly, and we will at once go back to the printstore."
; An hour later Henry Bowen was surprised by the visit of an elegant ladyto his studio, accompanied by a young man of seventeen.
"I think you are the artist who designed 'The Flower Girl,'" said Mrs.Clifton.
"I am, madam."
"It was taken from life?"
"You are right."
"I am anxious to find the little girl whose face you copied. Can yougive me any directions that will enable me to find her?"
"I will accompany you to the place where she lives, if you desire it,madam," said the young artist, politely. "It is a strange neighborhoodin which to look for so much beauty."
"I shall be deeply indebted to you if you will oblige me so far," saidMrs. Clifton. "My carriage is below, and my coachman will obey yourorders."
Once more they were on the move. In due time the carriage paused. Thedriver opened the door. He was evidently quite scandalized at the ideaof bringing his mistress to such a place.
"This can't be the place, madam," he said.
"Yes," said the artist. "Do not get out, Mrs. Clifton. I will go in, andfind out all that is needful."
Two minutes later he returned, looking disappointed.
"We are too late," he said. "An hour since a gentleman called, and tookaway the child."
Mrs. Clifton sank back in her seat in keen disappointment.
"My child! my child!" she murmured. "Shall I ever see thee again?"
Jack, too, felt more disappointed than he was willing to acknowledge. Hecould not conjecture what gentleman could have carried away Ida. Theaffair seemed darker and mere complicated than ever.