"Yes!" cried Ida May, springing to her feet, and crying out: "I swear to you that this is Royal Ainsley, the man whom I wedded, and who deserted me! This is the father of my little dead babe!"
The expression upon Miss Fernly's face was horrible to see.
She rose in awful wrath and struck her hands sharply together as she turned and faced the girl.
"It was fate that sent you across my path," she exclaimed, hoarsely. "But for this timely intervention my innocent niece would have wedded that villain on the morrow. But I thank Heaven that I am now able to prevent it, and to avenge you as well, my poor child. Ah!" she cried, as a sudden thought flashed through her mind, "an idea has come to me, by which I can not only wreak my vengeance upon him, but mete out justice to you as well."
"Oh, no, no; do not do anything to harm him!" cried Ida May, in terror. "Cruel as he has been to me, I love him still, and I shall always love him!"
"What I intend to do will not harm him. I repeat that it will right your wrong," she added, grimly. "There shall be a wedding to-morrow, my poor, unfortunate girl. But listen to me well, and heed what I say—you shall be this man's bride to-morrow, instead of my niece. Leave everything to me."
She gathered up her wrap and gloves and put them on.
"I shall have a great deal to do between now and nightfall. But this I say to you, Ida May: Be ready to go with me when I shall come for you. It may be to-night, perhaps to-morrow night. Ask me no questions now, but trust in me implicitly. Since the hour I came across you in your misfortune, you have found me a good friend to you, Ida May, have you not?"
"Yes," sobbed Ida May, wretchedly. "I—I—would have perished in the street but for you, noble lady. I respect and have all confidence in you."
"Then by that confidence do as I bid you," repeated Miss Fernly. "I will send some clothing for you to wear. Wrap about you the long, dark cloak you wore in coming here, and be in readiness."