"Excuse me one moment," I said. I parted the curtains and entered the bedroom.
She was standing there, white to the lips and trembling. She looked at me piteously.
"I'm afraid," she faltered.
"Be brave, little girl," I whispered, leading her forward. Then I threw aside the curtain.
"Garry," I said, "this is—this is Berna."
CHAPTER XIX
Garry, Berna—there they stood, face to face at last. Long ago I had visioned this meeting, planned for, yet dreaded it, and now with utter suddenness it had come.
The girl had recovered her calm, and I must say she bore herself well. In her clinging dress of simple white her figure was as slimly graceful as that of a wood-nymph, her head poised as sweetly as a lily on its stem. The fair hair rippled away in graceful lines from the fine brow, and as she gazed at my brother there was a proud, high look in her eyes.
And Garry—his smile had vanished. His face was cold and stern. There was a stormy antagonism in his bearing. No doubt he saw in her a creature who was preying on me, an influence for evil, an overwhelming indictment against me of sin and guilt. All this I read in his eyes; then Berna advanced to him with outstretched hand.