The cooper put on his spectacles, and hunted slowly down the columns of the paper, till he came to these beautiful lines of Tennyson, which he read aloud,—­

  “I hold it true, whate’er befall;
  I feel it when I sorrow most;
  ’Tis better to have loved and lost,
  Than never to have loved at all.”

“There, wife,” said he, as he laid down the paper; “I don’t know who writ them lines, but I’m sure it’s some one that’s met with a great sorrow, and conquered it.”

“They are beautiful,” said his wife, after a pause; “and I dare say you’re right, Timothy; but I hope we mayn’t have reason to learn the truth of them by experience.  After all, it isn’t certain but that Ida will come back.  We are troubling ourselves too soon.”

“At any rate,” said the cooper, “there is no doubt that it is our duty to take every means to secure Ida if we can.  Of course, if her mother insists upon keeping her, we can’t say anything; but we ought to be sure, before we yield her up, that such is the case.”

“What do you mean, Timothy?” asked Mrs. Crump, with anxious interest.

“I don’t know as I ought to mention it,” said her husband.  “Very likely there isn’t anything in it, and it would only make you feel more anxious.”

“You have already aroused my anxiety,” said his wife.  “I should feel better if you would tell me.”

“Then I will,” said the cooper.  “I have sometimes doubted,” he continued, lowering his voice, “whether Ida’s mother really sent for her.”

“And the letter?” queried Mrs. Crump, looking less surprised than he supposed she would.

“I thought—­mind it is only a guess on my part—­that Mrs. Hardwick might have got somebody to write it for her.”

“It is very singular,” murmured Mrs. Crump, in a tone of abstraction.

“What is singular?”

“Why, the very same thought occurred to me.  Somehow, I couldn’t help feeling a little suspicious of Mrs. Hardwick, though perhaps unjustly.  But what object could she have in obtaining possession of Ida?”

“That I cannot conjecture; but I have come to one determination.”

“And what is that?”

“Unless we learn something of Ida within a week from the time she left here, I shall go on to Philadelphia, or send Jack, and endeavor to get track of her.”

CHAPTER XV.

Aunt Rachel’s mishaps.

The week which had been assigned by Mr. Crump slipped away, and still no tidings of Ida.  The house seemed lonely without her.  Not until then, did they understand how largely she had entered into their life and thoughts.  But worse even, than the sense of loss, was the uncertainty as to her fate.

When seven days had passed the cooper said, “It is time that we took some steps about finding Ida.  I had intended to go to Philadelphia myself, to make inquiries about her, but I am just now engaged upon a job which I cannot very well leave, and so I have concluded to send Jack.”