"Are you ill, father?--can I do anything for you?" she called, goingquickly to his door and knocking gently.
"No," he answered in a smothered voice. "Go to your bed, Bernardine, andsleep. It is a great thing to be able to sleep--and forget."
"Poor papa!" sighed the girl, "how I pity him! Life has been very hardto him. Why are some men born to be gentlemen, with untold wealth attheir command, while others are born to toil all their weary livesthrough for the meager pittance that suffices to keep body and soultogether?"
She went slowly to her little room, but not to sleep. She crossed overto the window, sat down on a chair beside it, and looked up at the bitof starry sky that was visible between the tall house-tops and stilltaller chimneys, then down at the narrow deserted street so far below,and gave herself up to meditation.
"No, no; I could never marry Jasper Wilde!" she mused. "The very thoughtof it makes me grow faint and sick at heart; his very presence fills mewith an indescribable loathing which I can not shake off. Howdifferently the presence of Doctor Gardiner affects me! I--I find myselfwatching for his coming, and dreading the time when he will cease tovisit papa."
Doctor Gardiner's coming had been to Bernardine as the sun to theviolet. The old life had fallen from her, and she was beginning to livea new one in his presence.
As she sat by the window, she thought of the look the young doctor hadgiven her at parting. The remembrance of it quickened the beating of herheart, and brought the color to her usually pale cheeks.
How different the young doctor was from Jasper Wilde! If the youngdoctor had asked her the same question Jasper Wilde had, would heranswer have been the same?
The clock in an adjacent belfry slowly tolled the midnight hour.Bernardine started.
"How quickly the time has flown since I have been sitting here," shethought.
She did not know that it had been because her thoughts had been sopleasant. She heard a long-drawn sigh come from the direction of herfather's room.
"Poor papa!" she mused; "I think I can guess what is troubling him so.He has spent the money we have saved for the rent, and fears to tell meof it. If it be so, Jasper Wilde, at the worst can but dispossess us,and we can find rooms elsewhere, and pay him as soon as we earn it. HowI feel like making a confidant of Doctor Gardiner!"
Poor girl! If she had only done so, how much sorrow might have beenspared her!
CHAPTER XIII.
HE WISHED HE COULD TELL SOME ONE HIS UNFORTUNATE LOVE STORY.
During the weeks Doctor Gardiner had been visiting the old basket-makerand thinking so much of his daughter, he had by no means neglected hispatient, Miss Rogers, in whom he took an especial, almost brotherly,interest, and who rapidly recovered under his constant care, until atlength he laughingly pronounced her "quite as good as new."
One day, in mounting the handsome brown-stone steps to make more of asocial than a business call, he was surprised to see the mansion closed.
He felt quite grieved that his friend should have packed up and departedso hastily--that she had not even remembered to say good-bye to him. Hefelt all the more sorry for her absence just at this time, for, aftermuch deliberation, he had decided to make a confidante of Miss Rogers,and pour into her kindly, sympathetic ear the whole of his unfortunatelove story from beginning to end, and ask her advice as to what coursehe should pursue. He had also resolved to show her the last letter hehad received from Miss Pendleton, in which she hinted rather stronglythat the marriage ought to take place as soon as she returned to thecity.
And now Miss Rogers was gone, he felt a strange chill, a disappointmenthe could hardly control, as he turned away and walked slowly down thesteps and re-entered his carriage.
The next mail, however, brought him a short note from Miss Rogers. Hesmiled as he read it, and laid it aside, little dreaming of what vitalimportance those few carelessly-written lines would be in the dark daysahead of him. It read as follows:
"MY DEAR DOCTOR GARDINER--You will probably be surprised to learn that by the time this reaches you I shall be far away from New York, on a little secret mission which has been a pet notion of mine ever since I began to recover from my last illness. Do not be much surprised at any very eccentric scheme you may hear of me undertaking.
"Yours hastily and faithfully,
"MISS ROGERS."
The terse letter was characteristic of the writer. Doctor Gardinerreplaced it in its envelope, put it away in his desk, with the wish thatshe had mentioned her destination, then dismissed it from his mind.
At the identical moment Doctor Gardiner was reading Miss Rogers' letter,quite a pitiful scene was being enacted in the home of the oldbasket-maker.
It was with a shudder that he awoke and found the sunshine whichheralded another day stealing into his narrow little room.
Bernardine had been stirring about for some time, and at length thesavory odor of the frugal breakfast she was preparing reached him, andat that moment she called him.
When he made his appearance she saw at a glance that he must have passeda sleepless night. He had no appetite, and pushed away the plate withhis food untouched, despite Bernardine's earnest efforts to induce himto eat something.
He watched her deft fingers in silence as she cleared the table atlength, washed and dried the dishes and put them away, and tidied thelittle room.
"Now, father," she said, at length, "the sun is shining now, and I willgive you half an hour of my time to listen to the story you have to tellme. Don't look so distressed about it, dear; no matter what it is, Iwill utter no word of complaint, you shall hear no bitter words from mylips, only words of love, trust and comfort."
"Tell me that again, Bernardine," he cried; "say it over again. Thosewords are like the dew of Heaven to my feverish soul."
She uttered the words again, with her soft white arms twined lovinglyaround his neck, and she held them there until he came to the end of hiswretched story.
"Bernardine," he began, softly, with a pitiful huskiness in his voice,"I rely on your promise. You have given me your word, and I know youwill never break it. Don't look at me. Let me turn my face away from thesight of the horror in your eyes as you listen. There, that is right;let my poor whirling head rest on your strong young shoulder.
"It happened only a few weeks ago, Bernardine," he continued, brokenly,"this tragedy which has wrecked my life. One night--ah! how well Iremember it--even while I lie dying, it will stand out dark and horriblefrom the rest of my life--I--I could not withstand the craving for drinkwhich took possession of me, and after you slept, I stole softly from mycouch and out of the house.
"The few dimes I had in my pocket soon went where so many dollars ofmy--yes, even your humble earnings have gone before--in the coffers ofthe rum-shop.
"The liquor I drank seemed to fire my brain as it had never been firedbefore. I remember that I went to that place around the corner--theplace that you and Doctor Gardiner saw them throw me out of that nightyou thought they had crippled me for life.
"The man who keeps the place saw me coming in, and made a dash at me.Then a terrible fight took place between us, and a crowd gathered,foremost among whom I dimly saw the face of Jasper Wilde outlined amidstthe jeering throng.
"To hasten the telling of an unpleasant tale, I will say he ejected me,the while hurling the most insulting epithets at me. Then he spoke of_you_, Bernardine, and--and turning upon him with the ferocity of anenraged lion, I swore that I would kill him on sight.
"'Beware! take care,' laughed Jasper Wilde, turning to my enemy; 'theold basket-maker always keeps his word. You are in danger, my boy.'
"At this the crowd jeered. I hurried away. I never remembered how far Iwalked to still the throbbing of my heart and cool the fever in myveins.
"At length I turned my steps toward home. How far I had traversed in thedarkness I did not take note of; but as I was hurrying along, I heard aloud cry for help. I ran around the corner from which it seemed toproceed, and then I
fell headlong across the body of a man lying proneupon the pavement.
"I drew a box of matches from my pocket, and hastily struck one. Yes, itwas a man dying with a wound in his breast, made from a clasp-knife,which still stuck in it.
"In horror I snatched the knife away; and as I did so, the blood fromthe wound spurted up into my face and covered my clothes. In thatinstant I made the awful discovery that the knife was my own. I musthave lost it from my pocket during my encounter with my enemy, who keptthe wine-room.
"By the flickering light of the half-burned match, which I held down tothe man's face, I saw--oh, God! how shall I tell it?--I saw that the manwho had been murdered with my knife was the man whom I had sworn beforethe crowd I would kill on sight.
"As I made this startling discovery, a man laid a heavy hand on myshoulder, and Jasper Wilde's voice, with a demoniac ring, cried in myhorrified ears:
"'I see you have kept your word, David Moore! You have murdered yourenemy!'
"All in vain I protested my innocence. He only laughed at me, jeered atmy agony with diabolical glee.
"'You will be hanged,' he said. 'Of course, you realize that, DavidMoore.'
"'I would not care for my life--what became of me--if it were not forBernardine!' I moaned, wildly.
"'Yes, it _is_ a pity for Bernardine,' he made answer. 'I am sorry foryou on her account. How sad it will be to see you torn away from her,and she all alone in the world! Moore,' he hissed, close to my ear, 'forher sake, and upon one condition, I will save you from the gallows. Noone but me has seen you bending over the murdered man with that knife inyour hand. If I keep silent, no one can _prove_ the crime was done byyou. Do you comprehend--do you realize of what vital interest that whichI am saying is to you?'
"'Yes,' I answered in a choked, awful voice. 'But the condition! Whathave I, a poor, penniless basket-maker, even at this moment owing youmoney--what have I which you, the son of a rich father, would stoop toaccept?' I cried in the utmost despair. He stooped nearer, and whisperedin my ear:
"'You have a treasure which I long to possess. Give me Bernardine. I--Iwill marry the girl, and will forever hold my peace. It will save youfrom prison. Think and act quickly, man. You can _make_ the girl acceptme if she should desire to refuse.'
"I heard the whistle of an advancing policeman coming leisurely alonghis beat. Another moment and he would turn the corner where I stoodalmost paralyzed.
"'Speak, man!' cried Jasper Wilde. 'Am I to save you, or call theofficer to arrest you? Am I to get Bernardine, or not?'
"Oh, child! forgive me--pity me! Life to an old man even like me issweet. I could almost feel the rope of the gallows tightening about mypoor old throat, and I--oh, God, pity me--I promised him, Bernardine.
"'Save me, and Bernardine shall marry you!' I cried; 'only save me!Don't call the police, for the love of Heaven!'
"'Then fly!' he cried, shrilly. 'Take the knife with you; go as quicklyas you can to my rooms, back of my place, and there I will give yousomething to wear until you can get home!'
"I made my way to his place, as he directed. He was there before me. Hetook the blood-stained clothes and knife from me, remarking, grimly:
"'I shall keep these, the evidences of your guilt, until you succeed inmaking Bernardine my wife. If she refuses, I shall need them.'
"Oh, Bernardine, from that hour to this I have lived a perfect hell onearth. I am as innocent of that crime as a babe; but everything isagainst me. Jasper Wilde has proof enough to send your poor, wretchedold father to the gallows, if you refuse to marry him. Oh, Bernardine! Idare not lift my head and look up into your dear young face. Speak tome, child, and let me know the worst. This gnawing at my soul isintolerable--I can not bear it and live!"
But the lips of the hapless girl whose arms were twined about his neckwere mute and cold as marble.
"Won't you speak to me, Bernardine?" he wailed out, sharply. "Yoursilence is more than I can bear. For God's sake, speak!"
CHAPTER XIV.
"HAVE I BROKEN YOUR HEART, MY DARLING?"
Bernardine Moore slowly untwined her white arms from about her father'sneck, and turned her white, anguished face toward him, and the awfuldespair that lay in the dark eyes that met his was more piteous than anywords could have been.
"Have I broken your heart, Bernardine?" he cried out. "Oh, my child, mybeautiful Bernardine, have I ruined your life by that fatal promise?"
She tried to speak, but no words fell from her white lips; it seemed toher that she would never speak again; that the power of speech hadsuddenly left her.
"My poor old life is not worth such a sacrifice, Bernardine!" he criedout, sharply; "and you shall not make it. I will put a drop of somethingI know of in a cup of coffee, and then it will be all over with me. Hecan not pursue me through the dark gates of death."
"No, no," said the girl, great, heavy tears--a blessed relief--fallingfrom her eyes like rain. "Your life is more precious to me than all theworld beside. I would take your place on the gallows and die for you,father. Oh, believe me!--believe me!"
"And you feel in your heart the truth of what I say--that I am innocent,Bernardine?" he cried. "Say you believe me."
"I would stake my life on your innocence, father," she replied, throughher tears. "I believe in you as I do in Heaven. You shall not die! Iwill save you, father. I--I--will--marry Jasper Wilde, if that will saveyou!"
She spoke the words clearly, bravely. Her father did not realize thatthey nearly cost her her life--that they dug a grave long and deep, inwhich her hopes and rosy day-dreams were to be buried.
"You have saved me, Bernardine!" he cried, joyously. "Oh, how you mustlove me--poor, old, and helpless as I am!"
She answered him with kisses and tears; she could not trust herself tospeak.
She rose abruptly from her knees, and quitted the room with unsteadysteps.
"Thank Heaven it is over!" muttered David Moore, with a sigh."Bernardine has consented, and I am saved!"
The day that followed was surely the darkest sweet Bernardine Moore hadever known. But it came to an end at last, and with the evening came JayGardiner.
He knew as soon as he greeted Bernardine and her father that somethingout of the usual order had transpired, the old basket-maker greeted himso stiffly, Bernardine so constrainedly.
Bernardine's manner was quite as sweet and kind, but she did not holdout to him the little hand which it was heaven on earth to him to claspeven for one brief instant.
Looking at her closely, he saw that her beautiful dark eyes were heavyand swollen with weeping.
"Poor child! She is continually grieving over the drinking habit of herfather," he thought; and the bitterest anger rose up in his heartagainst the old basket-maker for bringing a tear to those beautiful darkeyes.
Again the longing came to him to beat down all barriers that parted herfrom him, take Bernardine in his arms, and crying out how madly he lovedher, bear his beautiful love away as his idolized bride to his ownpalatial home. But the thought of that other one, to whom he was inhonor and in duty bound, kept him silent.
He realized that for his own peace of mind and hers he must never seeBernardine again; that this must be the last time.
"I am sorry your father has fallen asleep, yet I do not wish to wakenhim, for I have come to say farewell to him and to you, Miss Moore," hesaid, huskily.
He saw the lovely face grow as white as a snow-drop; he saw all the gladlight leave the great dark eyes; he saw the beautiful lips pale and thelittle hands tremble, and the sight was almost more than he couldendure, for he read by these signs that which he had guessedbefore--that the sweet, fond, tender heart of Bernardine had gone outto him as his had gone out to her.
"Are you sorry, my poor girl?" he asked, brokenly.
"Yes," she answered, not attempting to stay her bitter tears, "I shallmiss you. Life will never be the same to me again."
He stopped before her, and caught her passionately to him.
"Dear Heaven, help me to say
good-bye to you!" he cried; "for you mustrealize the truth, Bernardine. I love you--oh, I love you with all thestrength of my heart and soul! Yet we must part!"
CHAPTER XV.
"I LOVE YOU! I CAN NOT KEEP THE SECRET ANY LONGER!"
For a moment Bernardine rested in his arms while Jay Gardiner cried overand over again, reckless as to how it would end:
"Yes, I love you, Bernardine, with all my heart, with all my soul!"
But it was for a moment only; then the girl struggled out of the strongarms that infolded her, with the expression of a startled fawn in herdark, humid eyes.
"Oh, Doctor Gardiner, don't; please don't!" she gasped, shrinking fromhim with quivering lips, and holding up her white hands as though toward him off. "You must not speak to me; indeed, you must not!"
"Why should I not tell you the secret that is eating my heart away!" hecried, hoarsely.
Before he could add another word, she answered, quickly:
"Let me tell you why it is not right to listen to you, Doctor Gardiner.I--I am the promised wife of Jasper Wilde!"
If she had struck him a blow with her little white hand he could nothave been more astounded.
His arms fell to his sides, and his face grew ashen pale.
"You are to marry Jasper Wilde?" he cried, hoarsely. "I can not believethe evidence of my own senses, Bernardine!"
She did not answer, but stood before him with her beautiful head droopedon her breast.