“But, oh, how shall we do it? It is cruel, cruel to have placed him there! We know well he is not insane!” wept Berry.
“Of course he is not,” agreed the woman; “and my husband says a lawyer must be got at once and set to work to get him out of that as soon as possible.”
“Hark! the doorbell!” cried Berry, and Mrs. Cline went to obey the summons.
She returned quickly with an official-looking letter.
“It is for you—brought down by one of Senator Bonair’s servants, who will wait for the answer,” she said, in high excitement.
The startled bride took the aggressive-looking envelope, with fingers that shook as she tore it open.
Her eyes were so blurred by tears she could scarcely read, but presently it all came to her that Senator Bonair was making her a cold business proposition to consent to a prompt divorce from his son upon the payment of a handsome sum of money.
The tears rushed to her eyes—tears of burning indignation—and her heart beat suffocatingly.
“What does the old villain want of you, if I may ask?” queried the curious Mrs. Cline.
Berry handed her the letter to read, saying bitterly: