It was nearly dark when this poor wife, stung with regret for what she had done, and tortured with dread, reached the vicinity of Mrs. Lambert’s dwelling. She dared not attempt to go in, but walked up and down the block, keeping the servants’ entrance in view all the time. Once or twice she passed a police officer who seemed watching like herself, but shunned him with trembling dread. What did he want there, and who was he waiting for?
After it became quite dark, the poor woman lingered in sight of the house. She had walked all the way down to the Tombs and back again, her limbs were weary, her heart ached with apprehension. Oh, if she could only see her husband one moment to warn him of the danger her own ignorance had brought upon him.
The woman grew desperate, she could pace that side-walk no longer. It was quite dark and her child would be crying with hunger; at any rate she would ring at the servants door.
As Mrs. Boyce was advancing for that purpose a carriage drove up. She hesitated and drew back into a shadow of the garden wall. The policeman was near her, but she was too much absorbed to observe him.
Directly the door opened and two persons came out. One a figure in flowing white garments that gleamed like snow across the darkness; the other a man. There was a pause near the carriage, and the woman was close enough to hear every word these two persons said. The woman drew back and seemed to hesitate about entering the carriage.
“Your friend is not here; we cannot proceed without him; there must be witnesses,” she said.
“But we shall find them at the minister’s,” pleaded the man. “I don’t pretend to know what keeps my friend Boyce, but one witness is as good as another; do step in, or we shall be late.”
Ellen Post had her foot on the step and was gathering the bridal veil about her, when a strange hand was laid on her arm, and the face of Mrs. Boyce gleamed on her with the lamp light full upon it.
“Woman, go back into the house, take off them white things and ask God to forgive you. This man is my own lawfully wedded husband.”
The deep, honest feeling of the wife gave dignity to her speech. Ellen Post stepped back and stood gazing on her, pale and breathless.