CHAPTER XXXIII
IDA IS FOUND
Ida was sitting alone in the dreary apartment which she was now obligedto call home. Peg had gone out, and, not feeling quite certain of herprey, had bolted the door on the outside. She had left some work for thechild--some handkerchiefs to hem for Dick--with strict orders to keepsteadily at work.
While seated at work, she was aroused from thoughts of home by a knockat the door.
"Who's there?" asked Ida.
"A friend," was the reply.
"Mrs. Hardwick--Peg--isn't at home," returned Ida.
"Then I will come in and wait till she comes back," answered the voiceoutside.
"I can't open the door," said the child. "It's fastened outside."
"Yes, so I see. Then I will take the liberty to draw the bolt."
Mr. John Somerville opened the door, and for the first time in sevenyears his glance fell upon the child whom for so long a time he haddefrauded of a mother's care and tenderness.
Ida returned to the window.
"How beautiful she is!" thought Somerville, with surprise. "She inheritsall her mother's rare beauty."
On the table beside Ida was a drawing. "Whose is this?" he inquired.
"Mine," answered Ida.
"So you have learned to draw?"
"A little," answered the child, modestly.
"Who taught you? Not the woman you live with?"
"No," said Ida.
"You have not always lived with her, I am sure?"
"No, sir."
"You lived in New York with a family named Harding, did you not?"
"Do you know father and mother?" asked Ida, with sudden hope. "Did theysend you for me?"
"I will tell you that by and by, my child. But I want to ask you a fewquestions first. Why does this woman, Peg, lock you in whenever she goesaway?"
"I suppose," said Ida, "she is afraid I'll run away."
"Then she knows you don't want to live with her?"
"Oh, yes, she knows that," said the child, frankly. "I have asked her totake me home, but she says she won't for a year."
"And how long have you been with her?"
"About three weeks, but it seems a great deal longer."
"What does she make you do?"
"I can't tell what she made me do first."
"Why not?"
"Because she would be very angry."
"Suppose I should promise to deliver you from her, would you be willingto go with me?"
"And you would carry me back to my father and mother?" asked Ida,eagerly.
"Certainly, I would restore you to your mother," was the evasive reply.
"Then I will go with you."
Ida ran quickly to get her bonnet and shawl.
"We had better go at once," said Somerville. "Peg might return, youknow, and then there would be trouble."
"Oh, yes, let us go quickly," said Ida, turning pale at the rememberedthreats of Peg.
Neither knew as yet that Peg could not return if she would; that, atthis very moment, she was in legal custody on a charge of a seriousnature. Still less did Ida know that in going she was losing the chanceof seeing Jack and her real mother, of whose existence, even, she wasnot yet aware; and that this man, whom she looked upon as her friend,was in reality her worst enemy.
"I will conduct you to my own rooms, in the first place," said hercompanion. "You must remain in concealment for a day or two, as Peg willundoubtedly be on the look-out for you, and we want to avoid alltrouble."
Ida was delighted with her escape, and with the thoughts of soon seeingher friends in New York. She put implicit faith in her guide, and waswilling to submit to any conditions which he saw fit to impose.
At length they reached his lodgings.
They were furnished more richly than any room Ida had yet seen; andformed, indeed, a luxurious contrast to the dark and scantily furnishedapartment which she had occupied since her arrival in Philadelphia.
"Well, you are glad to get away from Peg?" asked John Somerville, givingIda a comfortable seat.
"Oh, so glad!" said Ida.
"And you wouldn't care about going back?"
The child shuddered.
"I suppose," she said, "Peg will be very angry. She would beat me, ifshe got me back again."
"But she shan't. I will take good care of that."
Ida looked her gratitude. Her heart went out to those who appeared todeal kindly with her, and she felt very grateful to her companion fordelivering her from Peg.
"Now," said Somerville, "perhaps you will be willing to tell me what itwas Peg required you to do."
"Yes," said Ida; "but she must never know that I told."
"I promise not to tell her."
"It was to pass bad money."
"Ha!" exclaimed her companion, quickly. "What sort of bad money?"
"It was bad bills."
"Did she do much in that way?"
"A good deal. She goes out every day to buy things with the money."
"I am glad to learn this," said John Somerville, thoughtfully.
"Why?" asked Ida, curiously; "are you glad she is wicked?"
"I am glad, because she won't dare to come for you, knowing I can haveher put in prison."
"Then I am glad, too."
"Ida," said her companion, after a pause, "I am obliged to go out for ashort time. You will find books on the table, and can amuse yourself byreading. I won't make you sew, as Peg did," he added, smiling.
"I like to read," she said. "I shall enjoy myself very well."
"If you get tired of reading, you can draw. You will find plenty ofpaper on my desk."
Mr. Somerville went out, and Ida, as he had recommended, read for atime. Then, growing tired, she went to the window and looked out. Acarriage was passing up the street slowly, on account of a press ofother carriages. Ida saw a face that she knew. Forgetting her bonnet inher sudden joy, she ran down the stairs into the street, and up to thecarriage window.
"Oh! Jack!" she exclaimed; "have you come for me?"
It was Mrs. Clifton's carriage, just returning from Peg's lodgings.
"Why, it's Ida!" exclaimed Jack, almost springing through the window ofthe carriage in his excitement. "Where did you come from, and where haveyou been all this time?"
He opened the door of the carriage and drew Ida in.
"My child, my child! Thank God, you are restored to me!" exclaimed Mrs.Clifton.
She drew the astonished child to her bosom. Ida looked up into her facein bewilderment. Was it nature that prompted her to return the lady'sembrace?
"My God! I thank thee!" murmured Mrs. Clifton, "for this, my child, waslost, and is found."
"Ida," said Jack, "this lady is your mother."
"My mother!" repeated the astonished child. "Have I got two mothers?"
"This is your real mother. You were brought to our house when you werean infant, and we have always taken care of you; but this lady is yourreal mother."
Ida hardly knew whether to feel glad or sorry.
"And you are not my brother, Jack?"
"No, I am your guardian," said Jack, smiling.
"You shall still consider him your brother, Ida," said Mrs. Clifton."Heaven forbid that I should seek to wean your heart from the friendswho have cared so kindly for you! You may keep all your old friends, andlove them as dearly as ever. You will only have one friend the more."
"Where are we going?" asked Ida, suddenly.
"We are going home."
"What will the gentleman say?"
"What gentleman?"
"The one that took me away from Peg's. Why, there he is now!"
Mrs. Clifton followed the direction of Ida's finger, as she pointed to agentleman passing.
"Is he the one?" asked Mrs. Clifton, in surprise.
"Yes, mamma," answered Ida, shyly.
Mrs. Clifton pressed Ida to her bosom. It was the first time she hadever been called mamma, for when Ida had been taken from her she was tooyoung to spe
ak. The sudden thrill which this name excited made herrealize the full measure of her present happiness.
Arrived at the house, Jack's bashfulness returned. Even Ida's presencedid not remove it. He hung back, and hesitated about going in.
Mrs. Clifton observed this.
"Jack," she said, "this house is to be your home while you are inPhiladelphia. Come in, and Thomas shall go for your luggage."
"Perhaps I had better go with him," said Jack. "Uncle Abel will be gladto know that Ida is found."
"Very well; only return soon. As you are Ida's guardian," she added,smiling, "you will need to watch over her."
"Well!" thought Jack, as he re-entered the elegant carriage, and gavethe proper direction to the coachman, "won't Uncle Abel be a littlesurprised when he sees me coming home in this style! Mrs. Clifton's atrump! Maybe that ain't exactly the word, but Ida's in luck anyhow."