CHAPTER XXV.

She was not to remain long in suspense.

"In the first place," began Sally, slowly, "I wish to know what your

relations are, Bernardine Moore, with Doctor Jay Gardiner. I must and

will know the truth."

She saw that the question struck the girl as lightning strikes a fair

white rose and withers and blights it with its awful fiery breath.

Bernardine was fairly stricken dumb. She opened her lips to speak, but

no sound issued from them. She could not have uttered one syllable if

her life had depended on it.

"Let me tell you how the case stands. I will utter the shameful truth

for you if you dare not admit it. He is _your lover_ in secret, though

he would deny you in public!"

Hapless Bernardine had borne all she could; and without a word, a cry,

or even a moan she threw up her little hands, and fell in a lifeless

heap at her cruel enemy's feet.

For a moment Sally Pendleton gazed at her victim, and thoughts worthy of

the brain of a fiend incarnate swept through her.

"If she were only dead!" she muttered, excitedly. "Dare I----"

The sentence was never finished. There was a step on the creaking stairs

outside, and with a guilty cry of alarm, Miss Pendleton rushed from the

room and out into the darkened hall-way.

She brushed past a woman on the narrow stairs, but the darkness was so

dense neither recognized the other; and Sally Pendleton had gained the

street and turned the nearest corner, ere Miss Rogers--for it was

she--reached the top landing.

As she pushed open the door, the first object that met her startled eyes

was Bernardine lying like one dead on the floor.

Despite the fact that she was an invalid, Miss Rogers' nerves were

exceedingly cool. She did not shriek out, or call excitedly to the other

inmates of the house, but went about reviving the girl by wetting her

handkerchief with water as cold as it would run from the faucet, and

laving her marble-cold face with it, and afterward rubbing her hands

briskly.

She was rewarded at length by seeing the great dark eyes slowly open,

and the crimson tide of life drift back to the pale, cold cheeks and

quivering lips.

A look of wonder filled Bernardine's eyes as she beheld Miss Rogers

bending over her.

"Was it a dream, some awful dream?" she said, excitedly, catching at her

friend's hands and clinging piteously to them.

"What caused your sudden illness, Bernardine?" questioned Miss Rogers,

earnestly. "You were apparently well when I left you an hour since."

Still Bernardine clung to her with that awful look of agony in her

beautiful eyes, but uttering no word.

"Has she gone?" she murmured, at length.

"Has _who_ gone?" questioned Miss Rogers, wondering what she meant.

"The beautiful, pitiless stranger," sobbed Bernardine, catching her

breath.

Miss Rogers believed that the girl's mind was wandering, and refrained

from further questioning her.

"The poor child is grieving so over this coming marriage of hers to

Jasper Wilde that I almost fear her mind is giving way," she thought, in

intense alarm, glancing at Bernardine.

As she did so, Bernardine began to sob again, breaking into such a

passionate fit of weeping, and suffering such apparently intense grief,

that Miss Rogers was at a loss what to do or say.

She would not tell why she was weeping so bitterly; no amount of

questioning could elicit from her what had happened.

Not for worlds would Bernardine have told to any human being her sad

story--of the stranger's visit and the startling disclosures she had

made to her.

It was not until Bernardine found herself locked securely in the

seclusion of her own room that she dared look the matter fully in the

face, and then the grief to which she abandoned herself was more

poignant than before.

In her great grief, a terrible thought came to her. Why not end it all?

Surely God would forgive her for laying down life's cross when it was

too heavy to be borne.

Yes, that is what she would do. She would end it all.

Her father did not care for her; it caused him no grief to barter her,

as the price of his secret, to Jasper Wilde, whom she loathed.

It lacked but one day to that marriage she so detested.

Yes, she would end it all before the morrow's sun rose.

Jolly Sally Pendleton; Or, the Wife Who Was Not a Wife · 第 25 / 58 章