"I suppose he left you without a cent, the scoundrel?" he queried, brusquely.
"Oh, don't speak of him harshly!" cried Bernardine, distressedly. "I am sure something has happened to prevent his coming. He left his pocket-book with me, and there is considerable money in it."
"Ah! the scoundrel had a little more heart than I gave him credit for," thought the policeman.
He did not take the trouble to ask the name of the man whom she believed had wedded her, being certain that he had given a fictitious one to her.
"There is a boarding-house just two blocks from here, that I would advise you to go to for the night, at least, young lady," he said, "and if he comes I will send him around there. I can not miss him if he comes, for I will be on this beat, pacing up and down, until seven o'clock to-morrow morning. See, the rain has commenced to come down pretty hard. Come!"
There was nothing else to do but accept the kind policeman's suggestion. As it was, by the time she reached the house to which he good-naturedly piloted her, the fierce storm was raging in earnest.
He spoke a few words, which Bernardine could not catch, to the white-haired, benevolent-looking lady who opened the door.
She turned to the girl with outstretched hands.
"Come right in, my dear," she said, gently; "come right in."
"I was waiting for my husband, but somehow I missed him," explained Bernardine. "The policeman will be sure to run across him and send him around here."