She realized that she was alone with him on this isolated railwayplatform, miles perhaps from any habitation, any human being, far beyondthe reach of help.
The thick, heavy twilight had given place to a night of intensedarkness. The flickering light of the solitary gas-lamp over the stationdoor did not pierce the gloom more than three feet away. Bernardine didnot know this, and she sunk back in deadly fear behind one of the large,old-fashioned, square posts. The long dark cloak and bonnet she worewould never betray her presence there.
Bernardine soon became aware that he had not seen her, for he stoppedshort scarcely a rod from her, drew out his watch, and looked at thetime; then, with a fierce imprecation on his lips, he cried aloud:
"Missed the train by just one minute! Curse the luck! But then it'sworth my trip here, and the trouble I've been put to, to know that theMrs. Jay Gardiner in question is some New York society belle instead ofBernardine. Ah, if it were Bernardine, I would have followed him to theend of the earth and murdered him; taken her from him _by force_, if noother way presented itself. I love the girl to madness, and yet _I hateher_ with all the strength of my nature!"
As he uttered the words, he wheeled about, hurried down the platform,and stepped into the darkness, the sound of his quick tread plainlydying away in the distance.
It seemed to Bernardine that her escape from the clutches of JasperWilde was little short of miraculous. Trembling in every limb, shestepped out from behind the large pillar which shielded her.
He had not come by the same train; he did not know she was here. Butwhat caused him to come to this place to look for Jay Gardiner and hisbride? Perhaps it was because he had learned in some way that a familynamed Gardiner resided here, and he had come out of his way only todiscover that they were _not_ one and the same.
While Bernardine was ruminating over this, she saw the short, thick-setfigure of a man approaching.
Should she advance or retreat? She felt sure he had seen her. He stoppedquite short and looked at her.
"Surely _you_ can't be Miss Moore?" he inquired, incredulously.
"Yes," replied Bernardine in a voice in which he detected tears.
The man muttered something under his breath which she did not quitecatch.
"If you please, Miss, where is your luggage?"
"I--I have only this hand-bag," she faltered.
"Come this way, miss," he said; and Bernardine followed him, not withoutsome misgiving, to the end of the platform from which Jasper Wilde hadso recently disappeared.
Here she saw a coach in waiting, though she had not heard the sound ofthe horses' hoofs when they arrived there.
Then came a long ride over a level stretch of country. It was a greatrelief to Bernardine to see the moon come forth at last from a greatbank of black clouds; it was a relief to see the surrounding country,the meadows, and the farm-houses lying here and there on either side ofthe steep road up which they went.
"Would the lady like her or be displeased with her?" she asked herself.
She determined to throw herself heart and soul into her work and try toforget the past--what might have been had her lover proved true, insteadof being so cruelly false. Her red lips quivered piteously at thethought.
Her musings were brought to an end by the lumbering coach turning in ata large gate-way flanked by huge stone pillars, and proceeding leisurelyup a wide road that led through a densely wooded park.
Very soon Bernardine beheld the house--a granite structure with no endof gables and dormer-windows--half hidden by climbing vines, which gaveto the granite pile a very picturesque appearance just now, for thevines were literally covered with sweet-scented honeysuckles in fullbloom.
Mrs. King, the housekeeper, received Bernardine.
"I hope you will like it here," she said, earnestly; "but it is a dullplace for one who is young, and longs, as girls do, for gayety and life.You are too tired to see Mrs. Gardiner to-night after your long journey.I will show you to your room after you have had some tea."
The housekeeper was right in her surmise. It did look like aninexpressibly dreary place when Bernardine looked about at the greatarched hall.
Grand old paintings, a century old, judging by their antiquated look,hung upon the walls. A huge clock stood in one corner, and on eitherside of it there were huge elk heads, with spreading antlers tipped withsolid gold.
To add to the strangeness of the place, a bright log fire burned in ahuge open fire-place, which furnished both light and heat to the maincorridor.
"This fire is never allowed to burn out, either in summer or winter,"the housekeeper explained, "because the great hall is so cold and gloomywithout it."
While Bernardine was drinking her tea, a message came to her that Mrs.Gardiner would see her in her _boudoir_.
The housekeeper led the way through a long corridor, and when shereached the further end of it, she turned toward the right, and drawingaside the heavy crimson velvet _portieres_, Bernardine was ushered intoa magnificent apartment.
The windows were of stained glass, ornamented with rare pictures,revealed by the light shining through them from an inner room; thechandeliers, with their crimson globes, gave a deep red glow to thehandsome furnishings and costly bric-a-brac. There was something aboutthe room that reminded Bernardine of the pictures her imagination haddrawn of Oriental _boudoirs_.
Her musings were interrupted by the sound of a haughty voice saying:
"Are _you_ Miss Bernardine Moore?"
By this time Bernardine's eyes had become accustomed to the dim,uncertain light. Turning her head in the direction whence the soundproceeded, she saw a very grand lady, dressed in stiff, shining brocadesatin, with rare lace and sparkling diamonds on her breast and fairhands, sitting in a crimson velvet arm-chair--a grand old lady, cold,haughty, and unbending.
"Yes, madame," replied Bernardine, in a sweet, low voice, "I am MissMoore."
"You are a very much younger person than I supposed you to be from yourletter, Miss Moore. Scarcely more than a child, I should say," sheadded, as she motioned Bernardine to a seat with a wave of the hand. "Iwill speak plainly," she went on, slowly. "I am disappointed. I imaginedyou to be a young lady of uncertain age--say, thirty or thirty-five.When a woman reaches that age, and has found no one to marry her, thereis a chance of her becoming reconciled to her fate. I want a companionwith whom I can feel secure. I do not want any trouble with love orlovers, above all. I would not like to get used to a companion, and haveher leave me for some man. In fine, you see, I want one who will put allthought of love or marriage from her."
Bernardine held out her clasped hands.
"You need have no fear on that score, dear madame," she replied in atrembling tone. "I shall never love--I shall never marry. I--I neverwant to behold the face of a man. Please believe me and trust me."
"Since you are here, I may as well take you on trial," replied the grandold lady, resignedly. "Now you may go to your room, Miss Moore. You willcome to me here at nine to-morrow morning," she said, dismissingBernardine with a haughty nod.
The housekeeper had said she would find the room that had been preparedfor her at the extreme end of the same corridor, and in groping her wayto it in the dim, rose-colored light which pervaded the outer hall, sheunconsciously turned in the wrong direction, and went to the rightinstead of the left.
The door stood ajar, and thinking the housekeeper had left it in thisway for her, Bernardine pushed it open.
To her great astonishment, she found herself in a beautifully furnishedsleeping apartment, upholstered in white and gold of the costliestdescription, and flooded by a radiance of brilliant light from a grandchandelier overhead.
But it was not the magnificent hangings, or the long mirrors, in theirheavy gilt frames, that caught and held the girl's startled gaze.
It was a full-length portrait hanging over the marble mantle, and itstartled her so that she uttered a low cry, and clasped her little handstogether as children do when uttering a prayer.
Her reverie la
sted only for a moment. Then she drifted back to thepresent. She was in this strange house as a companion, and the firstthing she came across was the portrait, as natural as life itself,of--Jay Gardiner!
A mad desire came over her to kneel before the picture and--die!
CHAPTER XLIV.
Bernardine did not have much time to study the portrait, for all of asudden she heard footsteps in the corridor without, and in anothermoment Mrs. King, the housekeeper, had crossed the threshold, andapproached her excitedly.
"I feared you would be apt to make this mistake," she said,breathlessly. "Your room is in the opposite direction, Miss Moore."
Bernardine was about to turn away with a few words of apology, but thehousekeeper laid a detaining hand on her arm.
"Do not say that you found your way into this apartment, Miss Moore,"she said, "or it might cause me considerable trouble. This is the onlyroom in the house that is opened but once a year, and only then to airit.
"This is young master's room," went on the housekeeper, confidentially,"and when he left home, after quite a bitter scene with his mother, thekey was turned in the lock, and we were all forbidden to open it. Thatis young master's portrait, and an excellent likeness it is of him, too.
"The whole house was recently thrown into consternation by a letterbeing received from him, saying that he was about to bring home hisbride. His mother and sister took his marriage very much to heart. Thebride is beautiful, we hear; but, as is quite natural, I suppose hismother thinks a queen on her throne would have been none too good forher handsome son.
"My lady has had very little to say since learning that he would be hereon the 20th--that is to-morrow night; and his sister, Miss Margaret, isequally as silent.
"I think it will be better to give you another room than the one I hadat first intended," said Mrs. King. "Please follow me, and I willconduct you to it."
Bernardine complied, though the desire was strong upon her to flyprecipitately from the house, and out into the darkness of thenight---anywhere--anywhere, so that she might escape meeting JayGardiner and his bride.
Up several flights of carpeted polished stairs, through draughtypassages, along a broad corridor, down another passage, then into ahuge, gloomy room, Bernardine followed her, a war of conflictingemotions surging through her heart at every step.
"You have plenty of room, you see," said the housekeeper, lighting theone gas-jet the apartment contained.
"Plenty!" echoed Bernardine, aghast, glancing about her in dismay at thehuge, dark, four-poster bed in a far-off corner, the dark dresser, whichseemed to melt into the shadows, and the three darkly outlined windows,with their heavy draperies closely drawn, that frowned down upon her.
"You must not be frightened if you hear odd noises in the night. It'sonly mice. This is the old part of the mansion," said the housekeeper,turning to go.
"Am I near any one else?" asked Bernardine, her heart sinking with astrange foreboding which she could not shake off.
"Not very near," answered the housekeeper.
"Would no one hear me if I screamed?" whispered Bernardine, drawingcloser to her companion, as though she would detain her, her frightenedeyes burning like two great coals of fire.
"I hope you will not make the experiment, Miss Moore," returned thehousekeeper, impatiently. "Good-night," and with that she is gone, andBernardine is left--alone.
The girl stands quite still where the housekeeper has left her longafter the echo of her footsteps has died away.
She is in _his_ home, and he is coming here with his bride! Great God!what irony of fate led her here?
Her bonnet and cloak are over her arm.
"Shall I don them, and fly from this place?" she asks herself over andover again.
But her tired limbs begin to ache, every nerve in her body begins totwitch, and she realizes that her tired nature has endured all it can.She must stay here, for the night at least.
Despite the fatigue of the previous night, Bernardine awoke early thenext morning, and when the housekeeper came to call her, she found heralready dressed.
"You are an early riser, Miss Moore," she said. "That is certainly avirtue which will commend itself to my mistress, who rises earlyherself. You will come at once to her _boudoir_. Follow me, Miss Moore."
She reached Mrs. Gardiner's _boudoir_ before she was aware of it, sointent were her thoughts. That lady was sitting at a small marble table,sipping a cup of very fragrant coffee. A small, very odorous broiledbird lay on a square of browned toast on a silver plate before her. Shepushed it aside as Bernardine entered.
"Good-morning, Miss Moore," she said, showing a trifle more kindlinessthan she had exhibited on the previous evening; "I hope you rested welllast night. Sit down."
Bernardine complied; but before she could answer these commonplace,courteous remarks, an inner door opened, and a lady, neither very youngnor very old, entered the room.
"Good-morning, mamma," she said; and by that remark Bernardine knew thatthis was Jay's sister.
She almost devoured her with eager eyes, trying to trace a resemblancein her features to her handsome brother.
"Margaret, this is my new companion, Miss Moore," said Mrs. Gardiner,languidly.
Bernardine blushed to the roots of her dark hair, as two dark-blue eyes,so like Jay's, looked into her own.
"Welcome to Gardiner Castle, Miss Moore," replied Margaret Gardiner.
She did not hold out her hand, but she looked into the startled youngface with a kindly smile and a nod. Whatever her thoughts were in regardto her mother's companion, they were not expressed in her face.
A score of times during the half hour that followed, Bernardine tried tofind courage to tell Mrs. Gardiner that she must go away; that she couldnot live under that roof and meet the man she loved, and who was tobring home a bride.
But each time the words died away on her lips. Then suddenly, she couldnot tell how or when the feeling entered her heart, the longing came toher to look upon the face of the young girl who had gained the love shewould have given her very life--ay, her hope of heaven--to haveretained.
CHAPTER XLV.
To sit quietly by and hear mother and daughter discuss the man sheloved, was as hard for Bernardine to endure as the pangs of death.
"He is sure to be a worshipful husband," said Miss Margaret. "I alwayssaid love would be a grand passion with Jay. He will love once, and thatwill be forever, and to his wife he will be always true."
Poor, hapless Bernardine could have cried aloud as she listened. Whatwould that proud lady-mother and that haughty sister say if they butknew how he had tricked her into a sham marriage, and abandoned her thenand there? Oh, would they feel pity for her, or contempt?
The servants, in livery, had taken their posts; everything was inreadiness now to welcome the five hundred guests that were to arrive inadvance of the bridal pair.
In her _boudoir_, the grand old lady-mother, resplendent in ivory-satin,rare old point lace and diamonds, was viewing herself critically in thelong pier-glass that reached from ceiling to floor. Her daughterMargaret stood near her, arrayed in satin and tulle, with pearls whiteas moonbeams lying on her breast, clasping her white throat and arms,and twined among the meshes of her dark hair.
The contrast made poor Bernardine look strangely out of place in herplain gray cashmere dress, with its somber dark ribbons.
"You look quite tired, Miss Moore. I would suggest that you go into thegrounds for a breath of fresh air before the guests arrive. Then I shallwant you here," said Miss Gardiner, noticing how very white and drawnthe girl's face looked.
Oh, how thankful she was to get away from them--away from the sight ofthe pomp and the splendor--to cry her heart out, all alone, for a fewmoments! With a grateful murmured "Thank you," she stepped from the longFrench window out on to the porch and down the private stair-way intothe grounds.
Margaret Gardiner stepped to the window, drew aside the heavy lacecurtains, and watched the dark, slim figure until it was lost
to sightamong the grand old oak-trees.
It seemed to Bernardine that she had escaped just in time, for inanother instant she would have cried out with the pain at her heart,with the awful agony that had taken possession of her.
One by one grand coaches began to roll up the long white road, turn inat the great stone gate-way, and rattle smartly up the serpentine driveto the broad porch.
Then they commenced to arrive scores at a time, and the air was filledwith the ringing hoofs of hundreds of horses, the voices of coachmen andgrooms, and the gay sound of laughter.
The din was so great no one heard the solitary little figure among thetrees crying out to Heaven that she had counted beyond her strength inremaining there to witness the home-coming of the man she loved and hisbride.
Suddenly she heard the sound of her own name.
"Miss Moore! Miss Moore! Where are you?" called one of the maids. "Mylady is asking for you!"
"Tell your mistress I shall be there directly."
"Dear me! what an odd creature that Miss Moore is!" thought the maid, asshe flew back to the house. "Instead of being in the house, enjoying themusic and the grand toilets of the aristocracy that's here to-night,she's out in the loneliest part of the grounds. But, dear me! what anamazing goose I am to be sure. She must have a lover with her, and inthat case the grove's a paradise. Too bad my lady was so imperative. Iwould have pretended that I couldn't find her--just yet."
Bernardine stooped down, and wetting her handkerchief in the brook,laved her face with it.
She dared not approach the grand old lady with her face swollen withtears, as she was sure it must be.