The White Virgin

“Clive Reed!” cried the Major, bringing his fist down so heavily upon the table that the pens leaped out of the tray; “this may be a slight matter to a mining adventurer who lives by gambling, but do you grasp the fact that it is utter ruin to me and my child?”

“My dear sir, no, I do not; and as soon as I found out what was the matter, I sent off a telegram, and paid for a horse messenger to ride over and set you at your ease.”

“Set me at my ease!” cried the Major, tugging the end of his great moustache into his mouth and gnawing it. “How can a man, sir, be at his ease who has lost his all – who sees his child brought to penury?”

“My dear sir,” began Clive.

“Silence, sir!” cried the Major, giving vent to the pent-up wrath which had been gathering. “Silence! Hear what I have to say. I received you at my home, believing you to be an honourable man – a gentleman. I did not draw back when I found that my poor child had been won over by your insidious ways, and I was weak enough to let you draw me into this cursed whirlpool, and persuade me to embark my little capital to be swept down to destruction.”

“Did I, sir?” said Clive quietly.

“No: I will be just, even in my despair. That was my own doing, for I was blinded by your representations of wealth to come. I know: I was a fool and a madman, and I am justly punished: but I did think, sir, that you would have met me differently to this. It is a trifle perhaps to you speculators, you mining gamblers. Your way of living here in this house shows that a few thousands more or less are not of much consequence to you.”

There was a look of grave sympathy in Clive’s face as he listened patiently to the angry visitor’s words: and twice over he made an effort to speak, but the Major furiously silenced him.

“Let me finish, sir,” he cried, speaking now almost incoherently, his face flushed, and the veins in his temples knotted. “I came here, sir, meaning to speak a few grave words of reproach – to tell you of the contempt with which you have inspired me; but – but – I – but I – oh, curse it all, sir, how could you let me fall into this pit – how could you come to me and win my confidence – my poor child’s confidence, and behave like a scoundrel to one who met you from the beginning as a friend?”

He ceased, and Clive rose from his chair, crossed to where he had thrown himself down, and laid a hand upon his shoulder.

“Major Gurdon – father, – what have I ever done to make you think me such a scoundrel?”

“Don’t – don’t speak to me,” cried the Major hoarsely.

“I must, – I shall,” said Clive quietly. “You are terribly upset by this news; but did I not send you a message – have I not told you that there is no cause for anxiety?”

“What, sir, when all London is ringing with the collapse of your scheme, and people are selling right and left for anything they can get.”

“Poor fools! yes,” said Clive calmly. “They will smart for it afterwards.”

“What!” cried the Major, trying to rise from his seat, but Clive pressed him back. “I tell you all London is ringing with the bursting of the bubble.”

Clive smiled.

“With the miserable, contemptible rumour put about by some scheming scoundrel to make money out of the fears of investors.”

“What! There, sir, it is of no use. I know what you will say – that the shares will recover shortly. Bah! Nonsense! Some of you have made your money by your speculation; and poor, weak, trusting fools like me, as you say, must smart for it.”

“Major Gurdon,” said Clive sadly, “you ought to have had more confidence in the man you made your friend.”

“Confidence! I gave you all my confidence, and you have ruined me.”

“No.”

“Then stood by calmly and seen me ruined.”

“No.”

“What, sir?”

“My dear Major, life among the Derby Dales has made you extremely unbusiness-like.”

“Yes, sir, an easy victim,” cried the Major angrily. “To panic: yes. There, let us end this painful business.”

“Yes, sir, I understand,” cried the Major, springing up; “let us end this painful business. I understand, and I am going. God forgive you, Clive Reed, for I never can.”

“You have nothing to forgive,” said Clive gravely, as he met the Major’s angry gaze with his clear, penetrating eyes. “Once for all, believe me; this is a rumour set about by schemers. The ‘White Virgin’ is immaculate and growing richer day by day.”

“But my brokers assured me that the case was hopeless.”

“Your brokers, sir, derived their information on ’Change. I, who speak to you from my own experience, and from that of my dear dead father, give you my opinion based upon something tangible – the mine itself. Does poor Dinah know of all this?”

“Sir, I have no secrets from my child.”

“What did she say?”

“Say? What would a weak woman say?” cried the Major contemptuously. “You have done your work well there.”

“She trusted me and told you to believe?”

The Major’s brows knitted tightly.

“God bless her!” cried Clive, with his face lighting up, and his eyes softening. “I knew she would; and come, sir, you will trust me too. I am so sorry. One of my dearest old friends has ruined himself over the wretched business.”

“You are right, sir,” said the Major. “I have.”

“I did not mean you,” said Clive, smiling; “but Doctor Praed. He actually accepted the news as true, let himself be swept along on the flood of the panic, and sold out to some scheming scoundrel who, for aught I know, may be at the bottom of all this.” The angry flush began to die out of the Major’s face, leaving it in patches of a clayey white.

“If I could only bring it home to the scoundrel – but it would be impossible. I hear that he has been buying heavily and for a mere nothing. But I’m glad you came to me first. Stop – you said you had heard from your brokers.”

“Yes, sir; I went to my brokers at once.”

“Major!” cried Clive excitedly, as a sadden thought flashed through his brain. “Good Heavens! Surely you have not sold your shares?”

The Major was silent, for at last the younger man’s tones had carried conviction.

“You have?”

The Major nodded, and looked ghastly now.

“Then you have thrown away thousands,” cried Clive angrily. “There was not a share to be had when you bought. They were mine – my very own, that no other man in England should have had at any price. Why didn’t you come to me? How could you be so mad?”

“Then – then it really is a false report?” faltered the Major.

“False as hell,” cried Clive, who now strode up and down the room in turn, his brow knit, and eyes flashing. “How could you be so weak – how could you be so mad? The scoundrels! The cowardly villains. Oh, Major, Major, you should have trusted me.”

There was a tap at the door, and the Major took out his handkerchief, and made a feint to blow his nose loudly, as he surreptitiously wiped the great drops from his brow.

“Come in,” cried Clive; and the servant entered with a number of newspapers.