"Are you strong enough to bear a great shock, Bernardine?" he whispered,involuntarily gathering the slender figure to him.
The girl grew pale as death.
"Is it something about father? Has anything happened to him?" shefaltered, catching her breath.
He nodded his head; then slowly, very gently, he told her of the fire,and that he had seen her father perish--that he was now forever beyondJasper Wilde's power.
Poor Bernardine listened like one turned to stone: then, without a wordor a cry, fell at his feet in a faint.
At that opportune moment the old nurse returned.
Doctor Gardiner soon restored her to consciousness; but it made hisheart bleed to witness her intense grief. She begged him to take her tothe ruins, and with great reluctance he consented.
Ordering a cab at the nearest stand, he placed her in it, and took aseat by her side, feeling a vague uneasiness, a consciousness that thisride should never have been taken.
She was trembling like a leaf. What could he do but place his strong armabout her? In that moment, in the happiness of being near her, he forgotthat he was in honor bound to another, and that other Sally Pendleton,whom he was so soon to lead to the altar to make his wife.
The girl he loved with all the strength of his heart was so near tohim--ah, Heaven! so dangerously near--the breath from her lips waswafted to him with each passing breeze, and seemed to steal his verysenses from him.
Oh, if he could but indulge in one moment of happiness--could clasp herin his arms but a single moment, and kiss those trembling lips justonce, he would be willing to pay for it by a whole life-time of sorrow,he told himself.
Ah! why must he refuse himself so resolutely this one draught ofpleasure that fate had cast in his way?
He hesitated, and we all know what happens to the man who hesitates--heis lost.
At this moment Bernardine turned to him, sobbing piteously:
"Oh, what shall I do, Doctor Gardiner? Father's death leaves me allalone in the world--all alone, with no one to love me!"
In an instant he forgot prudence, restraint; he only knew that hisheart, ay, his very soul, flowed out to her in a torrent so intense nohuman will could have restrained it.
Almost before he was aware of it, his arms were about her, straining herto his madly beating heart, his passionate kisses falling thrillinglyupon her beautiful hair and the sweet, tender lips, while he cried,hoarsely:
"You shall never say that again, beautiful Bernardine! _I_ loveyou--yes, I love you with all my heart and soul! Oh, darling! answerme--do you care for me?"
The girl recoiled from him with a low, wailing sob. The words of thefashionably attired young girl who had called upon her so mysteriouslyon that never-to-be-forgotten day, and taunted her with--"He isdeceiving you, girl! Doctor Gardiner may talk to you of love, but hewill never--never speak to you of marriage. Mark my words!"--wereringing like a death-knell in her ears.
"Oh, Bernardine!" he cried, throwing prudence to the winds, forgettingin that moment everything save his mad love for her--"oh, my darling!you are _not_ alone in the world! _I_ love you! Marry me, Bernardine,and save me from the future spreading out darkly before me--marry mewithin the hour--_now_! Don't refuse me. We are near a church now. Therector lives next door. We will alight here, and in five minutes youwill be all my own to comfort, to care for, to protect and idolize, toworship as I would an angel from Heaven!"
He scarcely waited for her to consent. He stopped the coach, and fairlylifted her from the vehicle in his strong arms.
"Oh, Doctor Gardiner, is it for the best?" she cried, clinging to himwith death-cold hands. "Are you _sure_ you want me?"
The answer that he gave her, as he bent his fair, handsome head, musthave satisfied her. Loving him as she did, how could she say him nay?
They entered the parsonage, and when they emerged from it, ten minuteslater, Bernardine was Jay Gardiner's wedded wife.
And that was the beginning of the tragedy.
"I shall not take you to the scene of the fire just now, my darling," hedecided. "The sight would be too much for you. In a day or two, when youhave become more reconciled to your great loss, I will take you there."
"You know best, Doctor Gardiner," she sobbed, as they re-entered thevehicle. "I will do whatever you think is best."
"Where to, sir?" asked the driver, touching his cap.
"We will go to Central Park," he answered; then turning to Bernardine,he added: "When we reach there, we will alight and dismiss this man. Wewill sit down on one of the benches, talk matters over, and decide whatis best to be done--where you would like to go for your wedding-trip;but, my love, my sweetheart, my life, you must not call me 'DoctorGardiner.' To you, from this time on, I am Jay, your own fond husband!"
CHAPTER XXX.
Jay Gardiner had taken fate in his own hands. He had married the girl heloved, casting aside every barrier that lay between them, even to facingthe wrath, and, perhaps, the world's censure in deserting the girl towhom he was betrothed, but whom he did not love.
He was deeply absorbed in thinking about this as the cab stopped at thepark entrance.
"Come, my darling!" exclaimed Jay, kissing fondly the beautiful faceupturned to him, "we will alight and talk over our plans for thefuture."
She clung to him, as he with tender care, lifted her from the vehicle.
He was her husband, this grand, kingly, fair-haired man, at whom thewomen passing looked so admiringly. She could hardly realize it, hardlydare believe it, but for the fact that he was calling her his darlingbride with every other breath.
He found her a seat beneath a wide-spreading tree, where the greenswardwas like velvet beneath their feet, and the air was redolent with thescent of flowers that rioted in the sunshine hard by.
"Now, first of all, my precious Bernardine, we must turn our thoughts ina practical direction long enough to select which hotel we are to go to;and another quite as important matter, your wardrobe, you know."
Bernardine looked up at him gravely.
"This dress will do for the present," she declared. "The good, kind oldnurse dried and pressed it out so nicely for me that it looks almost asgood as new. And as for going to a hotel, I am sure it is too expensive.We could go to a boarding-house where the charges would be moderate."
Jay Gardiner threw back his handsome head, and laughed so loud and soheartily that Bernardine looked at him anxiously.
"Now that I come to think the matter over, I don't think I ever toldyou much concerning my financial affairs," he said, smiling.
"No; but papa guessed about them," replied Bernardine.
"Tell me what he guessed?" queried Jay. "He thought I was poor?"
"Yes," replied Bernardine, frankly. "He said that all doctors had a veryhard time of it when they started in to build up a practice, and thatyou must be having a very trying experience to make both ends meet."
"Was that why he did not want me for a son-in-law?"
"Yes, I think so," admitted Bernardine, blushing.
"Tell me this, my darling," he said, eagerly catching at the prettylittle hands lying folded in her lap; "why is it that _you_ have waivedall that, that you have married me, not knowing whether I had enough topay for a day's lodging?"
The most beautiful light that ever was seen flashed into the tender darkeyes, a smile curved the red lips that set all the pretty dimplesdancing in the round, flushed cheeks.
"I married you because----" and then she hesitated shyly.
"Go on, Bernardine," he persisted; "you married me because----"
"Because I--I loved you," she whispered, her lovely face fairly coveredwith blushes.
"Now, the first thing to do, sweetheart, is to call a cab, that you maygo to the nearest large dry-goods store and make such purchases as youmay need for immediate use. I can occupy the time better than standingabout looking at you. I will leave you at the store, and have the cabbydrive me around to the old nurse and explain what has occurred, andtell her that you
won't come back. Then I can attend to another littlematter or two, and return for you in an hour's time. And last, but notleast, take this pocket-book--I always carry two about me--and usefreely its contents. The purse, and what is in it, are yours, sweet!"
"Oh, I couldn't think of taking so much money!" declared Bernardine,amazed at the bulky appearance of the pocket-book at the first glance.
Jay Gardiner laughed good-naturedly.
"You shall have everything your heart desires, my precious one," hedeclared. "Don't worry about the price of anything you want; buy it, andI shall be only too pleased, believe me."
There was no time to say anything further, for the store was reached,and Jay had barely time to snatch a kiss from the beautiful lips ere hehanded her out.
"I will return in just an hour from now, Bernardine, with this cab," hesaid. "If you are not then at the door, looking for me, I shall waithere patiently until you do come out."
"How good you are to me!" murmured the girl, her dark eyes brimming overwith tears. "If papa could only know!"
"There, there now, my darling, it hurts me to see those eyes shed tears!The past is past. Your father would be glad to know you have a protectorto love and care for you. Try to forget, as much as you can, the sadcalamity, for _my_ sake."
And with another pressure of the hands, he turned away and sprung intothe cab, watching the slender form from the window until it disappearedin the door-way and was lost to sight.
"Love thrust honor and duty aside," he murmured. "I married sweetBernardine on the impulse of the moment, and I shall never regret it. Iwill have a time with Sally Pendleton and her relatives; but theinterview will be a short one. She has other admirers, and she will soonconsole herself. It was my money, instead of myself, that she wanted,anyhow, so there is no damage done to her heart, thank goodness. Iwill----"
The rest of the sentence was never finished. There was a frightfulcrash, mingled with the terrific ringing of car-bells, a violent plungeforward, and Jay Gardiner knew no more.
With a thoughtful face, Bernardine walked quickly into the greatdry-goods store.
She tried to do her husband's bidding---put all thoughts of it from herfor the time being--until she could weep over it calmly, instead ofgiving way to the violent, pent-up anguish throbbing in her heart atthat moment.
She had not been accustomed to spending much money during her younglife. The very few dresses she had had done duty for several years, bybeing newly made over, sponged, and pressed, and freshened by a ribbonhere, or a bit of lace there. So it did not take long to make the fewpurchases she deemed necessary, and even then she felt alarmed infinding that they footed up to nearly seven dollars, which appeared agreat sum to her.
Six o'clock now struck, and the clerks hustled away the goods en thecounters, and covered those on the shelves with surprising agility, muchto the annoyance of many belated customers who had come in too late "tojust look around and get samples."
To the surprise of the clerks, as they reached the sidewalk from a sideentrance of the building, they saw the beautiful young girl stillstanding in front of the store with the parcel in her hand and a look ofbewilderment on her face.
"It is a little after six," murmured Bernardine, glancing up at a clockin an adjacent store. "He has not yet returned, but he will be heresoon. I do not wonder that the driver of the cab he is in can make butlittle headway, the crowds on the street and crossings are so great."
One cab after another whirled by, their occupants in many instanceslooking back to catch another glimpse of that perfect face with itswistful expression which had turned toward them so eagerly and thenturned away so disappointedly.
"A shop girl waiting for some fellow who is to come in a cab and takeher out to supper," remarked two dudes who were sauntering up Broadway.
Bernardine heard the remark, and flushed indignantly.
How she wished she dared tell them that she was waiting for her husband!Yes, she was waiting--waiting, but he came not.
CHAPTER XXXI.
The sun dipped low in the West; the great crowds hurrying hither andthither were beginning to thin out. New York's busy throngs were seekingtheir homes to enjoy the meal which they had worked for in factory andshop, for they were mostly working people who composed this seethingmass of humanity.
Slowly time dragged on. Seven o'clock tolled from a far-off belfry.Bernardine was getting frightfully nervous.
What could have happened to her handsome young husband, who had left herwith the promise that he would return within the hour?
The policeman pacing to and fro on that beat watched her curiously eachtime he passed.
Eight o'clock struck slowly and sharply. The wind had risen, and was nowhowling like a demon around the corners of the great buildings.
"What shall I do? Oh, Heaven, help me! what shall I do?" sobbedBernardine, in nervous affright. "He--he must have forgotten me."
At that moment a hand fell heavily on her shoulder.
Looking up hastily through her tears, Bernardine saw a policemanstanding before her and eyeing her sharply.
"What are you doing here, my good girl?" he asked. "Waiting forsomebody? I would advise you to move on. We're going to have a storm,and pretty quick, too, and I judge that it will be a right heavy one."
"I--I am waiting for my husband," faltered Bernardine. "He drove me herein a cab. I was to do a little shopping while he went to find aboarding-house. He was to return in an hour---by six o'clock. I--I havebeen waiting here since that time, and--and he has not come."
"Hum! Where did you and your husband live last?" inquired the man of thebrass buttons.
"We--we didn't live anywhere before. We--we were just married to-day,"admitted the girl, her lovely face suffused with blushes.
"The old story," muttered the officer under his breath. "Some rascal hasdeluded this simple, unsophisticated girl into the belief that he hasmarried her, then cast her adrift."
"I am going to tell you what I think, little girl," he said, speakingkindly in his bluff way. "But don't cry out, make a scene, or gethysterical. It's my opinion that the man you are waiting for don'tintend to come back."
He saw the words strike her as lightning strikes and blasts a fairflower. A terrible shiver ran through the young girl, then she stoodstill, as though turned to stone, her face overspread with the pallor ofdeath.
The policeman was used to all phases of human nature. He saw that thisgirl's grief was genuine, and felt sorry for her.
"Surely you have a home, friends, here somewhere?" he asked.
Bernardine shook her head, sobbing piteously.
"I lived in the tenement house on Canal Street that has just been burneddown. My father perished in it, leaving me alone in the world--homeless,shelterless--and--and this man asked me to marry him, and--and I--did."
The policeman was convinced more than ever by her story that some _roue_had taken advantage of the girl's pitiful situation to lead her astray.
"That's bad. But surely you have friends _somewhere_?"
Again Bernardine shook her head, replying, forlornly:
"Not one on earth. Papa and I lived only for each other."
The policeman looked down thoughtfully for a moment. He said to himselfthat he ought to try to save her from the fate which he was certain laybefore her.
"I suppose he left you without a cent, the scoundrel?" he queried,brusquely.
"Oh, don't speak of him harshly!" cried Bernardine, distressedly. "I amsure something has happened to prevent his coming. He left hispocket-book with me, and there is considerable money in it."
"Ah! the scoundrel had a little more heart than I gave him credit for,"thought the policeman.
He did not take the trouble to ask the name of the man whom she believedhad wedded her, being certain that he had given a fictitious one to her.
"There is a boarding-house just two blocks from here, that I wouldadvise you to go to for the night, at least, young lady," he said, "andif he comes I will send him arou
nd there. I can not miss him if hecomes, for I will be on this beat, pacing up and down, until seveno'clock to-morrow morning. See, the rain has commenced to come downpretty hard. Come!"
There was nothing else to do but accept the kind policeman's suggestion.As it was, by the time she reached the house to which he good-naturedlypiloted her, the fierce storm was raging in earnest.
He spoke a few words, which Bernardine could not catch, to thewhite-haired, benevolent-looking lady who opened the door.
She turned to the girl with outstretched hands.
"Come right in, my dear," she said, gently; "come right in."
"I was waiting for my husband, but somehow I missed him," explainedBernardine. "The policeman will be sure to run across him and send himaround here."
The lady looked pityingly at the beautiful young face--a look that madeBernardine a little nervous, though there was nothing but gentleness andkindness in it.
"We will talk about that in the morning," she said. "I will show you toa room. The house is quite full just now, and I shall have to put you ina room with another young girl. Pardon the question, but have you hadyour supper?"
"No," replied Bernardine, frankly, "and I am hungry and fatigued."
"I will send you up a bowl of bread and milk, and a cup of nice hottea," said the lady.
"How good you are to me, a perfect stranger!" murmured Bernardine. "Iwill be glad to pay you for the tea and----"
The lady held up her white hand with a slow gesture.
"We do not take pay for any services we render here, my dear," she said."This is a young girls' temporary shelter, kept up by a few of the verywealthy women in this great city."