The paper fell from Bernardine's hands. She did not faint, or cry out, or utter any moan; she sat there quite still, like an image carved in stone. Jay Gardiner was at Newport with his bride!
The words seemed to have scorched their way down to the very depths of her soul and seared themselves there. Jay Gardiner was at Newport with his bride!
What, then, in Heaven's name was she?
Poor Bernardine! It seemed to her in that moment that she was dying.
Had he played a practical joke upon her? Was the marriage which she had believed in so fully no marriage at all?
She had no certificate.
It was scarcely an hour from the time the matron had left her until she returned; but when she did so, she cried out in alarm, for Bernardine's face was of an ashen pallor, her dark eyes were like coals of fire, and her hands were cold as death. The matron went up to her in great alarm, and gently touched the bowed head.
"Bernardine," she murmured, gently—"Bernardine, my poor child, are you ill? What has happened?"
After some little correspondence back and forth, Bernardine was accepted by the lady, and in a fortnight more she was able to make the journey.
The matron went down to the depot with her, to see her off, and prayed that the girl would not change her mind ere she reached her destination.