"You do not love him, Bernardine!" cried Jay Gardiner, bitterly. "Tellme--answer me this--why are you to marry him?"
Her lips moved, but no sound came from them.
"If I should sue to you upon my bended knees to be mine, Bernardine,would you not turn from him for me?"
He knew by the piteous sob that welled from the very depths of her hearthow deeply this question must have struck her.
"Bernardine," he cried, hoarsely, "if ever I read love in a girl's heartwhen her eyes have met mine, I have read it in yours! You love me,Bernardine. You can not, you dare not deny it. I repeat, if I were tosue you on my bended knees, could you, would you refuse to be my wife?"
"I--must--marry--Jasper Wilde," she whispered, wretchedly.
Without another word, stung by pride and pain, Jay Gardiner turned fromthe girl he had learned to love so madly, and hurried down the dark,winding stairs, and out into the street.
For one moment poor Bernardine gazed at the open door-way through whichhis retreating form had passed; then she flung herself down on herknees, and wept as women weep but once in a life-time.
Wounded love, outraged pride, the sense of keen and bitter humiliation,and yet of dread necessity, was strong upon her. And there was no helpfor her, no comfort in those tears.
"Was ever a girl so wronged?" she moaned.
She wept until there seemed to be no tears left in those dark, mournfuleyes. As she lay there, like a pale, broken lily, with her head andheart aching, she wondered, in her gentle way, why this sorrow shouldhave fallen upon her.
While she lay there, weeping her very heart out, Jay Gardiner waswalking down the street, his brain in a whirl, his emotions wrenchinghis very soul.
Miss Pendleton had written him that she would expect him to call thatevening. He had been about to write her that it would be animpossibility; but now he changed his mind. Going there would be of somebenefit to him, after all, for it would bring him surcease of sorrow forone brief hour, forgetfulness of Bernardine during that time.
It touched him a little to see how delightedly the girl welcomed him.She, too, was a money-seeker like the rest of her sex; but he couldalso see that she was in love with him.
"I have been home for three days, and you have not even remembered thatfact," she said, brightly, yet with a very reproachful look.
"If you will pardon the offense, I will promise not to be so remiss inthe future."
"I shall hold you to your word," she declared. "But dear me, how paleand haggard you look! That will never do for a soon-to-be bridegroom!"
His brow darkened. The very allusion to his coming marriage was mosthateful to him. Sally could see that, though she pretended not to noticeit.
Mr. and Mrs. Pendleton came in to welcome him, being so profuse in theirgreeting that they annoyed him.
Louisa was more sensible. Her welcome was quiet, not to say constrained.
"If it had been Louisa instead of Sally," he mused, bitterly, "the fatethat I have brought upon myself would be more bearable."
He was so miserable as he listened to Sally's ceaseless chatter that hefelt that if he had a revolver, he would shoot himself then and there,and thus end it all.
CHAPTER XVI.
"WHERE THERE IS NO JEALOUSY THERE IS LITTLE LOVE!"
It was a relief to Jay Gardiner when he found himself out of the houseand on the street. The short two hours he had passed in Sally's societywere more trying on his nerves than the hardest day's work could havebeen.
He groaned aloud at the thought of the long years he was destined tolive though, with this girl as his companion.
He had come at seven, and made his adieu at nine. Sally then wentupstairs to her mother's room with a very discontented face, and enteredthe _boudoir_ in anything but the best of humors.
Mrs. Pendleton looked up from the book she was reading, with anexpression of astonishment and wonder.
"Surely Doctor Gardiner has not gone so soon!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, he has," replied Sally, laconically.
"I suppose some important duty called him away so early?"
"He did not say so," returned her daughter, crossly.
"Is he coming soon again?" questioned Mrs. Pendleton, anxiously.
"I don't know," replied Sally; adding, slowly: "When I tried to find outwhen he would call again, he seemed annoyed, and replied, curtly: 'Thatwill be hard for me to determine, Miss Pendleton. You must remember thatthose in my profession have few leisure hours.' He would not set a time.I had to let the matter rest at that."
"He is not very much in love, then, I fear, my dear Sally," said hermother, reflectively. "Still, bad beginnings often make good endings.But I had almost forgotten to tell you the startling news, my dear,"added Mrs. Pendleton, hastily. "Your aunt, Sally Rogers, is here. Louisais entertaining her up in her _boudoir_. You must not be surprised, orshow too much amusement when you see her. She is a sight. We would beeternally disgraced if the neighbors were to see her. She is fairlycovered with rags--yes, rags! There are holes in her shoes; there neverwas such a bonnet worn since the time of the ark; and as for gloves, shedisdains such an article of feminine attire altogether. I do not thinkone will have to wait long to come into possession of her fortune. Butrun up to your sister's room and greet old Miss Sally as affectionatelyas possible."
Sally was rather glad of this intelligence, for it prevented her fromhaving a very bad case of the blues in thinking over her lover'scoldness, and how irksome this betrothal was to him.
She found her sister doing her utmost to entertain the most grotesquelittle old woman she had ever beheld. Her mother's description hadcertainly not been overdrawn.
Sally felt like bursting into uproarious laughter the moment her eyesfell upon Miss Rogers, and it was only by a most superhuman effort shecontrolled herself from letting her rising mirth get the better of her.
"Dear me, _is_ this, _can_ this be jolly little Sally Pendleton, as youused to sign the merry letters you wrote to me?" asked Miss Rogers,stopping short in some remark she was making to Louisa, and gazing hardat the slender, girlish figure that had just appeared on the threshold.
"Yes, it is I, Sally Pendleton," responded the girl, coming quicklyforward. "I just heard you were here, aunt, and I want to tell you howdelighted, enraptured, overjoyed I am to see you," she added, throwingher arms around the bundle of rags which inclosed the thin little oldmaid, with a bear-like hug and any amount of extravagant kisses, notdaring to look at Louisa the while.
"This is indeed a hearty welcome, my dear!" exclaimed Miss Rogers."Stand off, child," she added, holding Sally at arm's-length, "until Iget a good look at you."
And she gazed long and steadily.
Sally could not tell whether Miss Rogers was pleased or disappointedwith her, as her face never expressed her emotions.
"I will call you and your sister my nieces; but you are not so nearlyrelated to me as that---the line of relationship is a long way off.There are many others as near to me as your family."
"But none who love you anywhere near as well," put in Sally, quickly.
"I hope you mean what you say," replied Miss Rogers, quietly; adding,after a moment's pause, during which she wiped a suspicious moisturefrom her eyes: "I am a very lonely woman, and life offers few charms forme, because I am quite alone in the world, with no one to care for me. Ihave often thought that I would give the whole world, if it were mine togive, for just one human being to whom I was dear. I am desolate; myheart hungers for sympathy and kindness, and--and a little affection. Ihave neither father nor mother, sister nor brother, husband norchildren. I hope neither of you girls will ever experience thehopelessness, the heartache conveyed in those words. It is hard,bitterly cruel, to be left alone in the world. But I suppose Heavenintended it to be so, and--and knows best."
"You shall never know loneliness again, dear aunt," murmured Louisa. "Tomake every moment of your life happy will be our only aim."
"Thank you, my dear," replied Miss Rogers, tremulously.
r />
"You shall live with us always, if you will, aunt," said Sally, "and beone of the family. You may have my _boudoir_ all to yourself, and I willtake the small spare room next to it."
"You are very good to me," said Miss Rogers, huskily.
Mrs. Pendleton had been busy getting the handsome guest-chamber readyfor their wealthy kinswoman. She entered just in time to overhearSally's last remark.
"Miss Rogers shall have a larger, handsomer _boudoir_ than yours,Sally," remarked her mother. "The entire suite of rooms on this floor isat her disposal, if she will only allow us to persuade her to remainwith us. My dear daughters, you must add your entreaties on this pointto your father's and mine."
"How can I ever repay you for your deep interest in a lone body likeme?" murmured Miss Rogers.
The eyes of the girls and those of their mother met; but they did notdare express in words the thought that had leaped simultaneously intotheir minds at her words.
"You have had no one to look after your wardrobe, dear Aunt Rogers,"said Mrs. Pendleton; "so do, I beseech you, accept some of my gownsuntil you desire to lay them aside for fresher ones."
"I am bewildered by so much kindness," faltered Miss Rogers. And she wasmore bewildered still at the array of silks and satins and costly laceswith which the three ladies deluged her.
The very finest rooms in the house were given her. Miss Sally made her astrong punch with her own hands, "just the way she said she liked it,"and Louisa bathed her face in fragrant cologne, and tried on a lacenight-cap with a great deal of fuss.
Some one came in to turn down the night-lamp a little later on--aquiet, slender figure in a dark-brown gown. It was not Mrs. Pendleton,nor was it either of her daughters.
"Who are you?" asked Miss Rogers, perceiving at a glance that she wasevidently no servant of the household. A sweet, pale, wan face wasturned toward her.
"I an Patience Pendleton," replied a still sweeter voice.
"Dear me!" exclaimed Miss Rogers, "I never heard that there were threedaughters in this family." She could see, even in that dim light, thepink flush steal quickly over the wan, white face.
"I am a daughter by my father's first marriage," she answered, quietly."My step-mother and her daughters seldom mention me to any one."
There was no suspicion of malice in her tone, only sadness; and withoutanother word, save a gentle good-night, she glided from the room.
It was Sally, bright, jolly Sally, who awakened Miss Rogers the nextmorning. Louisa insisted upon helping her to dress, while Mr. and Mrs.Pendleton tapped at the door, and eagerly inquired if she had restedwell.
She was given the seat of honor at the breakfast-table, and a hugebouquet of hot-house roses lay at her plate.
Sally had inquired the night before as to her favorite viands, and theywere soon placed before her deliciously prepared.
Louisa brought a dainty hassock for her feet, and Mrs. Pendleton asilken scarf, to protect her from the slightest draught from the openwindows.
"You treat me as though I were a queen," said Miss Rogers, smilingthrough her tears.
She could scarcely eat her breakfast, Sally and Louisa hung about herchair so attentively, ready to anticipate her slightest wish. Butlooking around, she missed the sweet, wistful face that she had seen inher room the night before.
"Are all the family assembled here?" she inquired, wondering if it hadnot been a dream she had had of a sweet white face and a pair of sadgray eyes.
"All except Patience," replied Mrs. Pendleton, with a frown. "She'srather queer, and prefers not to join us at table or in thedrawing-room. She spends all her time up in the attic bedroom readingthe Bible and writing Christmas stories for children for the religiouspapers. We don't see her for weeks at a time, and actually forget shelives in this house. She's quite a religious crank, and you won't seemuch of her."
Miss Rogers saw the girls laugh and titter at their mother's remarks;and from that moment they lowered in her estimation, while sweetPatience was exalted.
CHAPTER XVII.
The next few days that passed were like a dream to Miss Rogers. Everyone was so kind and considerate it seemed that she was living in anotherworld.
Mrs. Pendleton had cautioned the girls against mentioning the fact ofSally's coming marriage, explaining that she might change her mind aboutleaving her fortune to the family if she knew there was a prospect ofwealth for them from any other source.
"But it would not be fair to let her make sister Sally her heiress,"said Louisa, bitterly. "She ought not to get both fortunes. She willcome into a magnificent fortune through marrying Jay Gardiner. Whyshould you want her to have Miss Rogers' money, too? You ought toinfluence that eccentric old lady to leave her fortune to _me_."
"Hush, my dear. Miss Rogers might hear you," warned her mother.
But the warning had come too late. In coming down the corridor to jointhe family in the general sitting-room, as they had always insisted onher doing, she had overheard Miss Louisa's last remark.
She stopped short, the happy light dying from her eyes, and the colorleaving her cheeks.
"Great Heaven! have I been deceived, after all? Was the kindness of thePendleton girls and their parents only assumed? Was there a monetaryreason back of it all?" she mused.
A great pain shot through her heart; a wave of intense bitterness filledher soul.
"I will test these girls," muttered Miss Rogers, setting her lipstogether; "and that, too, before another hour passes over my head."
After a few moments more of deliberation, she arose, and with firm steppassed slowly down the broad hall to the sitting-room.
Mrs. Pendleton and her eldest daughter Louisa had left the apartment.Sally alone was there, lounging on a divan, her hair in curl-papers,reading the latest French novel.
On her entering, down went the book, and Sally sprung up, her facewreathed in smiles.
"I was just wondering if you were lonely or taking a nap," shemurmured, sweetly. "Do come right in, Miss Rogers, and let me draw thenicest easy-chair in the room up to the cool window for you and make youcomfortable."
"How considerate you are, my dear child," replied Miss Rogers, fairlyhating herself for believing this sweet young girl could dissemble. "Iam glad to find you alone, Sally," she continued, dropping into thechair with a weary sigh. "I have been wanting to have a confidentiallittle chat with you, my dear, ever since I have been here. Have you thetime to spare?"
Sally Pendleton's blue eyes glittered. Of course Miss Rogers wanted totalk to her about leaving her money to her.
Sally brought a hassock, and placing it at her feet, sat down upon it,and rested her elbows on Miss Rogers' chair.
"Now," she said, with a tinkling little laugh that most every one likedto hear--the laugh that had given her the _sobriquet_, jolly SallyPendleton, among her companions--an appellation which had ever sinceclung to her--"now I am ready to listen to whatever you have to tellme."
After a long pause, which seemed terribly irksome to Sally, Miss Rogersslowly said:
"I think I may as well break right into the subject that is on my mind,and troubling me greatly, without beating around the bush."
"That will certainly be the best way," murmured Sally.
"Well, then, my dear," said Miss Rogers, with harsh abruptness, "I amafraid I am living in this house under false colors."
Sally's blue eyes opened wide. She did not know what to say.
"The truth is, child, I am not the rich woman people credit me withbeing. I did not tell you that I had lost my entire fortune, and that Iwas reduced to penury and want--ay, I would have been reduced tostarvation if you had not so kindly taken me in and done for me."
"What! You have lost your great fortune? _You are penniless?_" fairlyshrieked Sally, springing to her feet and looking with amazement intothe wrinkled face above her.
Miss Rogers nodded assent, inwardly asking Heaven to pardon her forthis, her first deliberate falsehood.
"And you came here to us, got the best room
in our house, and all ofmamma's best clothes, and you a beggar!"
Miss Rogers fairly trembled under the storm of wrath she had evoked.
"I--I did not mention it when I first came, because I had somehow hopedyou would care for me for myself, even though my money was gone, dearchild."
A sneering, scornful laugh broke from Sally's lips, a glare hateful tobehold flashed from her eyes.
"You have deceived us shamefully!" she cried. "How angry papa and mammaand Louisa will be to learn that we have been entertaining a pauper!"
"Perhaps you have been entertaining an angel unawares," murmured MissRogers.
"God forgive you, girl, for showing so little heart!" exclaimed MissRogers, rising slowly to her feet.
"I shall take no saucy remarks from you!" cried Sally, harshly. "Come,make haste! Take off those fine clothes, and be gone as fast as youcan!"
"But I have nothing to put on," said Miss Rogers.
Sally instantly touched the bell, and when the maid came in response toher summons, she said, quickly:
"Bring me that bundle of clothes mamma laid out for you to give to thecharity collector to-day."
Wonderingly the maid brought the bundle, and she wondered still morewhen Miss Sally ordered her to go down to the servants' hall, and not tocome up until she was called for.
"Now, then," she cried, harshly, after the door had closed upon themaid, "get into these duds at once!"
Miss Rogers obeyed; and when at length the change was made, Sallypointed to the door and cried, shrilly: