They had done the Continent leisurely at their own sweet will, they had wandered hither and thither with not a care save the silent grief of the young husband over the estrangement from his own people, and as to Berry, she had found out long ago, by a cablegram, that her mother was still living, not dead, as the vile fortune teller had falsely declared.
On getting this news the young husband had promptly sent his mother-in-law a sum of money sufficient to keep her in ease and comfort a year, so that Berry’s heart was at ease, and she gave herself up wholly to her happiness. They adored each other with a true devotion that never grew less. They were all in all to each other:
A book of verses underneath the bough,
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread, and thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness,
And wilderness were paradise enow!
Whatever the carping world might say of the millionaire senator’s only son’s mésalliance, to him it had been a salvation, turning him from evil courses to a purer, better life, making out of him the noble man nature had intended him to be.
His lovely bride grew more charming every day, to his enraptured eyes, and he bitterly regretted the pride that had prevented his family from seeing and knowing the girl whose flawless beauty and simple goodness must, if permitted the opportunity, have won its way to every heart.
He grew hot and angry when he remembered how bitterly they had railed against his darling, saying to himself that it was not like them to be so harsh and unforgiving, and it was surely Rosalind who had set them onto such cruelty, for she had threatened him with dire vengeance, and this was how she had kept her word. Once he had pitied Rosalind, but now he hated her for her malice that had cost him so dear.
He got another taste of it when the time rolled around for the division of his mother’s fortune, for his lawyer wrote him that Senator Bonair, as sole trustee, refused to surrender his son’s portion, still claiming he was insane and unfit to have the use of the money.