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Updated: May 22, 2025
Poor Haldane was but one uncertain lodger, and here were a dozen or more "regulars" arrayed against him. The sagacious woman was not long in climbing to the door of the obnoxious guest, and her very knock said, "What are you doing here?" Haldane's first thought was, "She is a woman; she will not have the heart to turn me away."
M'Cabe having obeyed, the man of business, whose solicitude in the affair had no concern with the young man's immeasurable loss, but related only to his own money, immediately felt in Haldane's pockets for the envelopes which had contained the thousand dollars in currency.
Arnot excitedly; "what can this mean? Who is me?" he next asked loudly. "Me is Pat M'Cabe, sure; the same as tidies up the office and does yer irrinds. Mr. Haldane's had a bad turn, and I've brought him home." As Mr. Arnot swung open the door, a man, who seemingly had been leaning against it, fell prone within the hall. Laura gave a slight scream, and Mrs.
It was his comfort to-day, out of all the ruck of his artificial self-reproach, that Ida had never known as he said how he felt toward her. "She never knew," he repeated often, "she never knew. She couldn't, I'm sure. Thank God for that!" What she had never known was, in Haldane's mind, his real idea of her as his wife.
I know that I should do worse anywhere else, and my self-respect and conscience both require that I should fight the battle of my life out here where I have suffered such disgraceful defeat." About three weeks after the occasion upon which Haldane's human nature had manifested itself in such a disastrous manner as he had supposed, Mrs. Arnot, Dr. Barstow, and Mr.
Haldane's eyes strayed to the little, cheap desk again, and for a moment the distress of the afternoon was renewed. But he resolutely threw off the accusing mood he so feared. There was a pile of letters lying there letters that he had had neither the time nor the heart to look into for the past week. He picked them up now with relief at finding something tangible to be done.
At that instant there was a blinding flash of lightning, and the appalling thunder-peal followed without any interval. Both Mrs. Poland and Amy gave a faint and involuntary cry of alarm, but Haldane's eyes were fixed on the little smiling face that he held so near to his own. The smile did not fade.
Instinctively Haldane knew how dear these matters were to her, and he went over them faithfully, effacing his own bitterness of memory as best he might. When Mrs. Locke hesitatingly asked him one evening if if Ida had had said anything left any message for her, Haldane's heart ached for her; Ida had left no message. He softened it as best he might.
She had taken up 'This Morning's Gossip' from The Daily Mail, and she began in the soft, low, distinct voice reading from The Rambler: 'Lord Redesdale says that when Lord Haldane's scheme for a Territorial Army was on foot he took it to the Aylmer stopped her. 'No not that' 'Shall I read you a novel? 'I think I should like to hear some poetry today, he answered.
Arnot held her dying head she whispered, "Tell him that it was his tears of honest sympathy that first gave me hope." That message had a vital influence over Haldane's subsequent life. Indeed these words of the poor dying waif were potent enough to shape all his future career.
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