The girl took the money which Bernardine handed to her, her eyes
following every movement of the white hand that placed the wallet back
in her pocket.
"You must be rich to have so much money about you," she said, slowly,
with a laugh that grated harshly on Bernardine's sensitive ears.
"It is not mine," said Bernardine, simply; "it is my husband's, and
represents all the years of toil he has worked, and all the rigid
economy he has practiced."
The girl looked at her keenly. Could it be that she was simple enough to
believe that the man who had deserted her so cruelly had _married_ her?
Well, let her believe what she chose, it was no business of hers.
The bowl of bread and milk and the cup of tea were sent up to
Bernardine, and she disposed of them with a heartiness that amused her
companion.
"I am afraid you will not sleep well after eating so late," she said,
with a great deal of anxiety in her voice.
"I shall rest all the better for taking the hot milk. I fall asleep
generally as soon as my head touches the pillow, and I do not wake until
the next morning. Why, if the house tumbled down around me, I believe
that I would not know it. I will remove my jacket, to keep it from
wrinkling."
This information seemed to please her companion. She breathed a sigh of
relief, and an ominous glitter crept into her small black eyes.
"But I do not want to go to sleep to-night," added Bernardine in the
next breath. "I shall sit by the window, with my face pressed against
the pane, watching for my--my husband."
Her companion, who had introduced herself as Margery Brown, cried out
hastily:
"Don't do that. You will look like a washed-out, wilted flower by
to-morrow, if you do, and your--your husband won't like that. Men only
care for women when they are fresh and fair. Go to bed, and I will sit
up and watch for you, and wake you when he comes; though it's my
opinion he won't come until to-morrow, for fear of disturbing you."
But Bernardine was firm in her resolve.
"He may come any minute," she persisted, drawing her chair close to the
window, and peering wistfully out into the storm.
But a tired feeling, caused by the great excitement She had undergone
that day, at length began to tell upon her, and her eyes drooped wearily
in spite of her every effort to keep them open, and at last, little by
little, they closed, and the long, dark, curling lashes, heavy with
unshed tears, lay still upon the delicately rounded cheeks.
Margery Brown bent forward, watching her eagerly.
"Asleep at last," she muttered, rising from her seat and crossing the
room with a stealthy, cat-like movement, until she reached Bernardine's
side.
Bending over her, she laid her hand lightly on her shoulder.
Bernardine stirred uneasily, muttering something in her, sleep about
"loving him so fondly," the last of the sentence ending in a troubled
sigh.
"They used to tell me that I had the strange gift of being able to
mesmerize people," she muttered. "We will see if I can do it _now_. I'll
try it."
Standing before Bernardine, she made several passes with her hands
before the closed eyelids. They trembled slightly, but did not open.
Again and again those hands waved to and fro before Bernardine with the
slowness and regularity of a pendulum.
"Ah, ha!" she muttered at length under her breath, "she sleeps sound
enough now."
She laid her hand heavily on Bernardine's breast. The gentle breathing
did not abate, and with a slow movement the hand slid down to the pocket
of her dress, fumbled about the folds for a moment, then reappeared,
tightly clutching the well-filled wallet.
"You can sleep on as comfortably as you like now, my innocent little
fool!" she muttered. "Good-night, and good-bye to you."
Hastily donning Bernardine's jacket and hat, the girl stole noiselessly
from the room, closing the door softly after her.
So exhausted was Bernardine, she did not awaken until the sunshine,
drifting into her face in a flood of golden light, forced the long black
lashes to open.
For an instant she was bewildered as she sat up in her chair, looking
about the small white room; but in a moment she remembered all that had
transpired.
She saw that she was the sole occupant of the apartment, and concluded
her room-mate must have gone to breakfast; but simultaneously with this
discovery, she saw that her jacket and hat were missing.
She was mystified at first, loath to believe that her companion could
have appropriated them, and left the torn and ragged articles she saw
hanging in their place.
As she arose from her chair, she discovered that her pocket was hanging
inside out, and that the pocket-book was gone!
For an instant she was fairly paralyzed. Then the white lips broke into
a scream that brought the matron, who was just passing the door, quickly
to her side.
In a hysterical voice, quite as soon as she could command herself to
articulate the words, she told the good woman what had happened.
The matron listened attentively.
"I never dreamed that you had money about you my poor child," she said,
"or I would have suggested your leaving it with me. I worried afterward
about putting you in this room with Margaret Brown; but we were full,
and there was no help for it. That is her great fault. She is not
honest. We knew that, but when she appealed to me for a night's lodging,
I could not turn her away. The front door is never locked, and those who
come here can leave when they like. We found it standing open this
morning, and we felt something was wrong."
But Bernardine did not hear the last of the sentence. With a cry she
fell to the floor at the matron's feet in a death-like swoon.
Kind hands raised her, placed her on the couch, and administered to her;
but when at length the dark eyes opened, there was no glance of
recognition in them, and the matron knew, even before she called the
doctor, that she had a case of brain fever before her.
This indeed proved to be a fact, and it was many a long week ere a
knowledge of events transpiring around her came to Bernardine.
* * * * *
During the interim, dear reader, we will follow the fortunes of Jay
Gardiner, the young husband for whom Bernardine had watched and waited
in vain.
When he was picked up unconscious after the collision, he was recognized
by some of the passengers and conveyed to his own office.
It seemed that he had sustained a serious scalp-wound and the doctors
who had been called in consultation looked anxiously into each other's
faces.
"A delicate operation will be necessary," said the most experienced
physician, "and whether it will result in life or death, I can not say."
They recommended that his relatives, if he had any, be sent for. It was
soon ascertained that his mother and sister were in Europe, traveling
about the Continent. The next person equally, if indeed not more
interested, was the young lady he was betrothed to marry--Miss
Pendleton. Accordingly, she was sent for with all possible haste.
A servant bearing a message for Sally entered the room.
The girl's hands trembled. She tore the envelope open quickly, and as
her eyes traveled over the contents of the note, she gave a loud scream.
"Jay Gardiner has met with an accident, and I am sent for. Ah! that is
why I have not heard from him for a week, mamma!" she exclaimed,
excitedly.
"I will go with you, my dear," declared her mother. "It wouldn't be
proper for you to go alone. Make your toilet at once."
To the messenger's annoyance, the young lady he was sent for kept him
waiting nearly an hour, and he was startled, a little later, to see the
vision of blonde loveliness that came hurrying down the broad stone
steps in the wake of her mother.
"Beautiful, but she has no heart," was his mental opinion. "Very few
girls would have waited an hour, knowing their lover lay at the point of
death. But it's none of my business, though I _do_ wish noble young
Doctor Gardiner had made a better selection for a wife."
The cab whirled rapidly on, and soon reached Doctor Gardiner's office.
Sally looked a little frightened, and turned pale under her rouge when
she saw the group of grave-faced physicians evidently awaiting her
arrival.
"Our patient has recovered consciousness," said one of them, taking her
by the hand and leading her forward. "He is begging pitifully to see
some one--of course, it must be yourself--some one who is waiting for
him."
"Of course," repeated Sally. "There is no one he would be so interested
in seeing as myself."
And quite alone, she entered the inner apartment where Jay Gardiner lay
hovering between life and death.