The poor girl began to weep bitterly, and, wringing her hands, fell upon her knees before that haughty woman.
“Oh! aunt, aunt, don’t ask me; I have lost it—I have lost it!”
CHAPTER XVIII.
TURNED OUT-OF-DOORS.
Mrs. Judson drew back from her niece, gathering the folds of her dress around her, as if she feared those quivering little hands might impart shame to her person.
“Oh!” she said, with bitter emphasis, “lost, is it? When? where?”
“I don’t know. It was in my bosom when I was taken ill; but after that I remember nothing about it.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed the aunt, and the unpleasant gleam broke fiercely into her eyes; “and as you lost the certificate,” she added, “what was the clergyman’s name who married you?”
“I don’t remember. He told me that the paper was right, and I never troubled myself to read it. But he knows, of course.”
“Oh, of course, he knows,” echoed the proud woman, disdainfully. “But the place? In what place was this wonderful marriage performed, did you say?”
“In Philadelphia.”