The young doctor turned impulsively to the girl by his side.
"Pardon me for the question, but do you live alone with your father?" heasked.
"Yes," she replied in a voice that thrilled him as the grandest,sweetest music he had heard had never had power to do. "We have onlyeach other," she added, watching the distorted face on the pillow witha fond wistfulness that made the young doctor, who was watching her,almost envy the father.
"I will come again to-morrow," he said, "and prescribe for him. I havedone all the good that is possible for the present."
"Good-morning, Miss Moore," he said, standing with his hat in his hand,and bowing before her as if she were a princess. "If you should haveoccasion to need me in a hurry, send for me at once. This is myaddress." And he handed her his card.
Again she thanked him in a voice so sweet and low that it sounded to himlike softest music.
He closed the door gently after him; and it seemed to him, as he walkedslowly down the narrow dark stairs, that he had left Paradise and one ofGod's angels in it.
CHAPTER IX.
"WHAT A LONELY LIFE FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL YOUNG GIRL!"
All that day the sweet face of Bernardine Moore was before DoctorGardiner. He found himself actually looking forward to the morrow, whenhe should see her again. He deceived himself completely as to the cause,telling himself that it was because of his pity for her, and thedesolate life she was leading.
The next day when he called, Bernardine again met him at the door.
"Papa has been calling for you," she said. Then she stopped short, indire confusion, as she remembered the reason why he was so anxious tosee him. "He has just fallen into a light sleep. I will go and awakenhim at once and tell him you are here."
"By no means," he said. "Pray do not awaken him; the sleep he is havingis better than medicine. Will you permit me to sit down and talk withyou for a few moments, until he awakens?"
She looked anxiously at him for a moment, then said, with charmingfrankness:
"Would you mind very much if I went on with my work. I have severalbaskets to be finished by night, when they will be called for."
"By no means. Pray proceed with your work. Do not let me disturb you,"he answered, hastily. "I shall consider it a great favor if you willallow me to watch you as you work."
"Certainly," said Bernardine, "if you will not mind coming into ourlittle work-shop," and she led the way with a grace that completelycharmed him.
The place was devoid of any furniture save two or three wooden chairs,which the girl and her father occupied at their work, the long woodenbench, the great coils of willow--the usual paraphernalia of thebasket-makers' trade.
She sat down on her little wooden seat, indicating a seat opposite forhim. He watched her eagerly as her slim white fingers flew in and outamong the strands of trailing willow quickly taking shape beneath hermagic touch.
"It must be a very lonely life for you," said Jay Gardiner, after amoment's pause.
"I do not mind; I am never lonely when father is well," she answered,with a sweet, bright smile. "We are great companions, father and I. Heregales me by the hour with wonderful stories of things he used to seewhen he was a steamboat captain. But he met with an accident one time,and then he had to turn to basket-making."
As he conversed with the young girl, Jay Gardiner was indeed surprisedto see what a fund of knowledge that youthful mind contained. She wasthe first young girl whom he had met who could sit down and talksensibly to a man. Her ideas were so sweet, so natural, that it charmedhim in spite of himself. She was like a heroine out of astory-book--just such a one, he thought, as Martha Washington must havebeen in her girlhood days. His admiration and respect for her grew witheach moment.
CHAPTER X.
WHAT IS LIFE WITHOUT LOVE?
Every evening, on some pretext or other, Jay Gardiner managed to payDavid Moore, the basket-maker, a visit, and the cynical old man began tolook forward to these visits.
He never dreamed that his daughter was the magnet which drew the youngman to his poor home. They were evenings that Jay Gardiner never forgot.
Bernardine was slightly confused at first by his presence; then shebegan to view the matter in another light--that the young doctor hadtaken quite an interest in her father. He had certainly cured him of aterrible habit, and she was only too pleased that her father should havevisits from so pleasant a man.
She always had some work in her slender white hands when the doctorcalled. Sometimes, glancing up unexpectedly, she would find the doctor'skeen blue eyes regarding her intently, and she would bend lower over hersewing. Jay Gardiner, however, saw the flush that rose to her cheek andbrow.
As he sat in that little tenement sitting-room--he who had beenflattered and courted by the most beautiful heiresses--he experienced afeeling of rest come over him.
He would rather pass one hour in that plain, unpretentious sitting-roomthan visit the grandest Fifth Avenue mansion.
And thus a fortnight passed. At the end of that time, Jay Gardiner stoodface to face with the knowledge of his own secret--that he had at lastmet in Bernardine Moore the idol of his life. He stood face to face withthis one fact--that wealth, grandeur, anything that earth could givehim, was of little value unless he had the love of sweet Bernardine.
It came upon him suddenly that the sweet witchery, the glamor fallingover him was--love.
He realized that he lived only in Bernardine's presence, and thatwithout her life would be but a blank to him. His love for Bernardinebecame the one great passion of his life. Compared with her, all otherwomen paled into insignificance.
He fell, without knowing it, from a state of intense admiration into oneof blind adoration for her. He had never before trembled at a woman'stouch. Now, if his hand touched hers, he trembled as a strong treetrembles in a storm.
Looking forward to the years to come, he saw no gleam of brightness inthem unless they were spent with the girl he loved.
Then came the awakening. He received a letter from Sally Pendleton, inwhich she upbraided him for not writing. That letter reminded him thathe was not free; that before he had met Bernardine, he had bound himselfin honor to another.
He was perplexed, agitated. He loved Bernardine with his whole heart,and yet, upon another girl's hand shone his betrothal-ring.
When the knowledge of his love for sweet Bernardine came to him, he toldhimself that he ought to fly from her; go where the witchery of herface, the charm of her presence, would never set his heart on fire; gowhere he could never hear her sweet voice again.
"Only a few days more," he said, sadly. "I will come here for anotherweek, and then the darkness of death will begin for me, for the girl whoholds me in such galling chains will return to the city."
Why should he not see Bernardine for another week? It would not harmher, and it would be his last gleam of happiness.
At this time another suitor for Bernardine's hand appeared upon thescene. On one of his visits to the Moores' home he met a young manthere. The old basket-maker introduced him, with quite a flourish, asMr. Jasper Wilde, a wine merchant, and his landlord. The two men bowedstiffly and looked at each other as they acknowledged the presentation.
Doctor Gardiner saw before him a heavy-set, dark-eyed young man with alow, sinister brow. An unpleasant leer curled his thin lips, which ablack mustache partially shaded, and he wore a profusion of jewels whichwas disgusting to one of his refined temperament.
He could well understand that he was a wine merchant's son. He certainlygave evidence of his business, and that he had more money than goodbreeding. The word _roue_ was stamped on his every feature.
Jay Gardiner was troubled at the very thought of such a man beingbrought in contact with sweet Bernardine. Then the thought flashedthrough his mind that this was certainly the man whom the woman on thedoorstep had told him about.
Jasper Wilde, looking at the young doctor, summed him up as a proud,white-handed, would-be doctor who hadn't a cent in his pocket.
r /> "I can see what the attraction is here--it's Bernardine; but I'll blockhis little game," he muttered. "The few weeks that I've been out of thecity he has been making great headway; but I'll stop that."
The young doctor noticed that what the woman had told him was quitetrue. He could readily see that Bernardine showed a feeling ofrepugnance toward her visitor.
But another thing he noticed with much anxiety was, that the oldbasket-maker was quite hilarious, as though he had been dosed with wineor something stronger.
Jay Gardiner knew at once that this man must have known thebasket-maker's failing and slipped him a bottle, and that that was hispassport to favor.
Doctor Gardiner talked with David Moore and his daughter, addressing noremarks whatever to the obnoxious visitor.
"The impudent popinjay is trying to phase me," thought Wilde; "but hewill see that it won't work."
Accordingly he broke into every topic that was introduced; and thus theevening wore on, until it became quite evident to Doctor Gardiner thatMr. Jasper Wilde intended to sit him out.
Bernardine looked just a trifle weary when the clock on the mantelstruck ten, and Doctor Gardiner rose to depart.
"Shall I hold the light for you?" she asked. "The stair-way is alwaysvery dark."
"If you will be so kind," murmured the doctor.
Jasper Wilde's face darkened as he listened to this conversation. Hiseyes flashed fire as they both disappeared through the door-way.
On the landing outside Doctor Gardiner paused a few moments.
How he longed to give her a few words of advice, to tell her to bewareof the man whom he had just left talking to her father! But heremembered that he had not that right. She might think him presumptuous.
If he had only been free, he would have pleaded his own suit then andthere. That she was poor and unknown, and the daughter of such a father,he cared nothing.
Ah! cruel fate, which forbid him taking her in his arms and neverletting her go until she had promised to be his wife!
As it was, knowing that he loved her with such a mighty love, he toldhimself that he must look upon her face but once again, and then itmust be only to say farewell.
"The night is damp and the air is chill, and these narrow halls aredraughty. Do not stand out here," he said, with eager solicitude; "youmight catch cold."
She laughed a sweet, amused laugh.
"I am used to all kinds of weather, Doctor Gardiner," she said. "I amalways out in it. I make the first track in winter through the deepsnows. I go for the work in the morning, and return with it at night.You know, when one is poor, one can not be particular about such littlethings as the weather; it would never do."
CHAPTER XI.
A SHADOW DARKENS THE PEACEFUL HOME OF THE BASKET-MAKER.
Sweet Bernardine Moore laughed to see the look of amazement upon theyoung doctor's face.
He who had been reared in luxury, pampered and indulged--ay, spoiled byan over-indulgent mother, what had he ever known of the bitter realitiesof life, the struggles many have to undergo for their very existence?
He looked at this delicate, graceful girl, and his lips trembled, hiseyes grew moist with tears.
Oh, if he but dared remove her from all this sorrow! The thought of hertoiling and suffering there was more than he could calmly endure.
He turned away quickly. In another moment he would have committedhimself. He had almost forgotten that he was bound to another, and wouldhave been kneeling at her feet in another minute but for the sound ofher father's voice, which brought him to himself.
"Bernardine!" cried her father, fretfully, "what are you doing out thereso long in the hall? Don't you know that Mr. Wilde is waiting here totalk with you?"
A pitiful shadow crossed the girl's face. Evidently she knew what theman had to say to her.
Tears which she could not resist came to her eyes, and her lovely lipstrembled.
Doctor Gardiner could not help but observe this.
"Bernardine," he cried, hoarsely, forgetting himself for the moment, "Ishould like to ask something of you. Will you promise to grant myrequest?"
"Yes," she murmured, faintly and unhesitatingly.
"Do not trust the man to whom your father is talking."
"There is little need to caution me in regard to him, Doctor Gardiner,"she murmured. "My own heart has told me that already----"
She stopped short in great embarrassment, and Doctor Gardiner thought itbest not to pursue the subject further, for his own peace of mind aswell as hers.
He turned abruptly away, and was quickly lost to sight in the labyrinthof stair-ways.
With slow steps Bernardine had re-entered her apartments again. As sheapproached the door, she heard Jasper Wilde say to her father in anangry, excited voice:
"There is no use in talking to you any longer; it must be settledto-night. I do not intend to wait any longer."
"But it is so late!" whined the basket-maker in his high, sharp treble.
"You knew I was coming, and just what I was coming here for. Why didn'tyou get rid of the poor, penny doctor, instead of encouraging him?"
"I could not say much to the doctor, for he had my life in his hands,and saved it."
"There might be worse things for you to face," replied the man,menacingly. And the poor old basket-maker understood but too well whathe meant.
"Yes, yes," he said, huskily, "you must certainly speak to Bernardinethis very night, if I can get her to give you a hearing. I will do mybest to influence her to have you."
"Influence!" exclaimed the man, savagely. "You must command her!"
"Bernardine is not a girl one can command," sighed the old man. "Shelikes her own way, you know."
"It isn't for her to say what she wants or doesn't want!" exclaimed theman savagely. "I shall look to you to bring the girl round to your wayof thinking, without any nonsense. Do you hear and comprehend?"
"Yes," said the old man, wearily. "But that isn't making Bernardineunderstand. Some young girls are very willful!"
Trembling with apprehension, the old basket-maker dropped into thenearest chair.
His haggard face had grown terribly pale, and his emaciated hands shook,while his eyes fairly bulged from their sockets. The agony of mind hewas undergoing was intense.
"Will Bernardine refuse this man?" he muttered to himself, "Oh, if Ibut dared tell her all, would she pity, or would she blame me?"
He loved the girl after his own fashion; but to save himself he waswilling to sacrifice her. Poor Bernadine! Had she but known all!
CHAPTER XII.
"YOU ARE FALSE AS YOU ARE FAIR, BERNARDINE!"
"I should think your own common sense would tell you. Surely you musthave guessed what I am so eager to say, Miss Bernardine?" Jasper Wildebegan, taking little heed of her father.
The girl's white lips opened, but no sound came from them. He was right;she quite expected it; but she did not tell him so.
"I might as well break right into the subject at once," he said. "Myerrand can be told in a few words. I have fallen deeply in love withyour pretty face, and I am here to ask you to marry me. Mind, I say tomarry me! What do you think of it?"
The girl drew back hurriedly.
"I think you might have guessed what my answer would have been, and thussaved yourself."
Again his face darkened, and an angry fire leaped into his eyes; but hecontrolled himself by a great effort.
"Why do you refuse me?" he asked. "I am a big catch, especially for agirl like you. Come, I have taken a notion to you, Bernardine, andthat's saying a good deal."
"Spare yourself the trouble of uttering another word, Mr. Wilde," shesaid, with dignity. "I would not, I could not marry you under anycircumstances. It is as well for you to know that."
"So you think now; but I fancy we can change all that; can't we, Moore?"
The old basket-maker's lips moved, but no sound came from them; theterror in his eyes became more apparent with each moment.
"I will never
change my decision," said Bernardine.
Jasper Wilde drew his chair up nearer to the girl.
"Listen to me, Bernardine," he said. "You shall marry me, by all thegods above and all the demons below! I have never been thwarted in anywish or desire of my life. I shall not be thwarted in this!"
"You would not wish me to marry you against my will?" said the girl.
"That would make little difference to me," he rejoined. "You will likeme well enough after you marry me; so never fear about that."
"I do not propose to marry you," replied Bernardine, rising haughtilyfrom her seat. "While I thank you for the honor you have paid me, Irepeat that I could never marry you."
"And I say that you shall, girl, and that, too, within a month fromto-day," cried the other, in a rage.
"Oh, Bernardine, say 'Yes!'" cried the old man, trembling like an aspenleaf.
"I have never gone contrary to your wishes, father, in all my life," shesaid; "but in this instance, where my interests are so deeplyconcerned, I do feel that I must decide for myself."
With a horrible laugh, Jasper Wilde quitted the room, banging the doorafter him.
With a lingering look at the beautiful young face, her father bid hergood-night, and with faltering steps quitted the little sitting-room andsought his own apartment. A little later, Bernardine was startled tohear him moaning and sobbing as though he were in great pain.