The White Virgin Part 38

"Dear Sir,--As we have frequently done business for you, we esteem it our duty to let you know of the very great fall which has taken place in the mining shares which--as you will remember in opposition to our advice--were bought by you a short time since. We send herewith seven of the daily papers that you may see how serious the business is, and we should strongly advise you either to come up and confer with us, or to telegraph your instructions.

"Of course there may be nothing in these reports, but we felt that an old client residing in so remote a part of England, where he might not hear of the rumour, ought to be advised.

"We are, your obedient servants,--

"Caley and Bland."

The Major groaned.

"Father, dear, is it very bad news?" cried Dinah, rising to go to his side.

"No, no, my dear," he said bitterly. "Not so very bad. Read."

"What--what does this mean?" cried Dinah, changing colour.

"Only ruin once more, my darling," he said bitterly. "Bankrupt in honour and reputation, now I am a bankrupt in pocket."

"Oh, father! But--but surely it is not through this mine."

"Yes, my dear, through my folly in believing in a stranger. Bah, I have always been a fool, and as age creeps on I grow more foolish."

"But I don't understand, dear," cried Dinah piteously. "A stranger!

You do not mean Mr Reed?"

"Yes," he said angrily, "I mean Mr Clive Reed. I have let him inveigle me into this speculation, and now nearly every penny I have is swept away."

"Oh, impossible!" cried Dinah, flushing now. "Clive would never have advised you but for your good."

"Pish!" cried the Major, tossing the letter upon the table; "here is a proof of it. Caley and Bland, the experienced brokers, who sold for me, and advised me not to put money in the speculation, show me that it is hopeless."

"But Clive told me it meant fortune, dear; and he could not err."

The Major laughed harshly.

"Of course not--in your eyes, child. There, I am not going to be a brute to you, my dear. He has deceived us both."

"He has not deceived us both," cried Dinah, drawing herself up proudly.

"Clive is incapable of deceit."

"No, not quite--self-deceit, then. He meant well, perhaps, but, like all these mining adventurers, he was too sanguine."

"Oh, but, father, it is impossible. It must be a false report."

"False!" cried the Major, with a mocking laugh, as he glanced at a paper. "Look here--ruin--collapse--a bogus affair, got up to sell shares in an exhausted mine. You can read the opinions of the press, my dear, and the letters of indignant, ruined shareholders."

"It is a false report," cried Dinah indignantly. "Let them say this-- let the whole world say it. Clive Reed is my betrothed husband, and he is an honourable gentleman. I say it is false from beginning to end."

"Hah!" sighed the Major, as he gazed sadly at the flushed, defiant face before him; and taking his child's hand, he drew her to him, and kissed her tenderly.

"Your mother's child, my darling," he said huskily. "Eighteen years ago she stood up like that in my defence, when the world said that I was a dishonourable scoundrel. She fought the fight upon my side, and fell wounded to the death, Dinah, true to her convictions that I was an innocent man; but it killed her, dear."

Dinah laid her hands upon her father's shoulders, and gazed into his eyes, but he met her fixed, inquiring look without a quiver, and his face grew proud and stern.

"Yes, dear; she was right," he cried, drawing himself up. "I was--I am--an honourable man. But the world has never cleared me, and I have lived a recluse, waiting for the time to come when it should confess the wrong it did me. But it never will, Dinah--it never will."

"It shall, father, some day," she cried pa.s.sionately, as she flung her arms about his neck and kissed him again and again. "Yes, my dear, n.o.ble, self-denying father shall stand in his high place amongst men, and they shall be as proud of him as I am of Clive. For this, too, is all false, father. He could not have deceived us."

"Well, perhaps not willingly, dear," said the Major sadly.

"No, no, no. It is a false report."

"But it has ruined me, my child. Well, fate has worked her worst. She can do no more," he added bitterly, "unless my child deceives me too."

Dinah sprang from him as if he had struck her a deadly blow, and stood there white as ashes, her eyes dilated and lips quivering till he caught her in his arms.

"No, no," he said huskily. "Forgive me, my darling. My words were too cruel. Nothing could come between us two. Forget what I said. The words were wrung from me by my sufferings. It is so hard, dear, to find one's all swept away through my greedy folly, and at my time of life."

Dinah uttered a low piteous sigh, and her face went down upon her father's shoulder, while her lips moved as she said the words in her shame, misery, and despair, the words which she had long wished to confide to him. But they were inaudible--he did not hear, and at last, after a tender, pa.s.sionate embrace, he placed her in a chair.

"Well," he said firmly, "I must act like a man."

"What are you going to do?" she said, looking up now excitedly.

"Go up to town, and save what I can out of the wreck."

"But, father, it must be a false report. Wait till we hear from Clive.

He will be back soon."

The Major shook his head.

"Perhaps not."

"But I am sure. What evidence have you but this letter--these reports?"

"The telegram last night. His agitation on receiving these guarded words. I'll agree, my dear, that the poor fellow meant honourably by us, but he is ruined as well as I. Dinah, my dear, you must be firm.

So must I."

"And you will go?"

"Directly."

"Take me too, father," said Dinah excitedly.

"Impossible. No; wait patiently. I must go and see the brokers at once, you see, you know there is no other course open."

"But you will go straight to Clive, dear."

"No," said the Major firmly. "A man in my frame of mind, and with my hot temper, must not meet him for some time to come. It will be better not." Dinah drew in a long deep breath, and remained silent as the Major hurriedly swallowed a little breakfast, and ten minutes later stood by the river path, bidding his child farewell.