The White Virgin Part 37

There was a tap at the door.

"Yes. Come in."

The Doctor's quiet, grave servant in spotless black, looking as if he had been up for hours, entered with a tray, bearing hot tea and dry toast, placing it upon the table without a word, and leaving at once.

"Take some tea, Clive, my boy," said the Doctor, going quietly now to his visitor, placing his hands upon his shoulders, and pressing him down into a chair. "Forgive me, my dear boy. No; of course, you could not do such a dishonourable act. I beg your pardon."

"Granted, Doctor."

"Confound the money, my boy! It's my savings, but I should never have spent a penny on myself. Let it go, I won't stir a peg about it, and I'll never try to save again. I can always earn guineas enough to pay my way, and that must do for the while I live. There; I'm better now,"

he continued, as he took a seat and helped himself to some tea.--"Hah!

capital cup this. I'm very particular about my tea. And so you're doing well down in Derbyshire?"

"Wonderfully, sir."

"That's right. I'm very glad of it. Clive, my boy, I've been studying up the digestive functions a good deal, and I've had to read a paper upon it. I'm getting honourable mention."

Clive looked at him wonderingly, and the Doctor saw it.

"It's all right, my boy. I have no business to dabble in money affairs.

That's all over now. I have too much to do in a.s.suaging human ills to think any more about my losses; but I'm afraid that some people among your father's old friends will be very hard hit."

"Good heavens!" cried Clive, starting up.

"What is the matter?"

"I have a friend down at the mine, who has bought pretty largely--for him--and if this cursed rumour reaches his ears,--here, I must go back by the next train. No, I cannot. I must stop in town, and have this report thoroughly contradicted by letters in the papers, and advertis.e.m.e.nts, as well as by personal visits to our old friends. Have you a telegram form?"

"Yes, plenty, my dear boy. There: in the drawer."

Clive hastily wrote a telegram for the Major, telling him that if any report reached him, or he saw anything in the papers respecting the stability of the "White Virgin" mine and its shares, he was to pay no heed whatever.

"Can your man take this for me?"

"Of course," cried the Doctor, ringing, and the quiet, grave-looking servant appeared.

"Take a cab and go to the Charing Cross Post Office. That is open all night. You will pay for a special messenger to ride or drive over with it at once. The town is ten miles from Major Gurdon's cottage. Quick, please: it is important."

He handed the man some money, and in two minutes the front door was closed.

"Hah! That is a relief," said Clive, with a sigh. "A quiet old officer who lives retired there, Doctor. He too has put his all into the mine.

We have become very intimate."

"And has he a pretty daughter, too, like this old fool?"

Clive started, and his cheeks flushed as he remained silent for a few moments.

"Yes, Doctor, he has a daughter."

Doctor Praed held out his hand, and shook Clive's warmly.

"I'm very glad, my boy," he said gently. "The wisest thing. I hope she is very nice. There, I will not ask you. It is quite right--quite right."

They sat sipping their tea for a few minutes, the Doctor looking perfectly content now, Clive thoughtful; and the black marble clock on the chimneypiece struck six.

"Doctor," said Clive at last, "I am bitterly grieved about this business: more so than I can express."

"Then now throw it over as far as I am concerned. It was an error. I committed it, and I am punished. I have too much to think about to worry any more; so have you."

"But I must make it up to you, sir."

"What! Give me the money?"

"Yes."

"Rubbish, boy! It is of no use to me. I should only go and lose that too."

"But I feel to blame."

"More fool you, sir. There, not another word. The money has gone.

Jolly go with it. I should like you to read my pamphlet."

"But, my dear sir--"

"Clive Reed, I will not have another word. Look here. I tell you what," he said, with a chuckle; "have you made your will?"

"No, sir; not yet."

"Make it then, and leave me to be paid at your death the amount I have lost. I won't poison you to get it, my lad. There, no more talk about money. Now then, go upstairs and have three hours' good sleep.

Breakfast at nine."

"No: I could not sleep," said Clive. "I'll go on now to Guildford Street. They will be getting up there by this time. Then I'm in for a busy day."

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

ALONE.

Breakfast-time at the cottage, and as a step was heard upon the stony path, Dinah rose quickly from her seat, then coloured and resumed her place, for she knew that it was impossible for her to receive letters so soon.

Then as the steps were heard receding, Martha entered bearing a packet of newspapers and a letter.

"Hallo! what a budget!" cried the Major. "Who can have sent these?"

He opened the letter first, a business-like looking doc.u.ment, and read:--

"Draper's Buildings, E.C., August 18--.

"To Major Gurdon, The Cottage, Blinkdale Tor.