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Then I can attend to another little matter or two, and return for you in an hour's time. And last, but not least, take this pocket-book I always carry two about me and use freely its contents. The purse, and what is in it, are yours, sweet!" "Oh, I couldn't think of taking so much money!" declared Bernardine, amazed at the bulky appearance of the pocket-book at the first glance.
"No," replied Bernardine, frankly, "and I am hungry and fatigued." "I will send you up a bowl of bread and milk, and a cup of nice hot tea," said the lady. "How good you are to me, a perfect stranger!" murmured Bernardine. "I will be glad to pay you for the tea and " The lady held up her white hand with a slow gesture. "We do not take pay for any services we render here, my dear," she said.
"You will not try to help yourself, but are going willingly, like a lamb to the slaughter, as it were." David Moore seemed to be as unnerved as Bernardine over the coming marriage. If he heard a sound in Bernardine's room at night, he would come quickly to her door and ask if anything was the matter. He seemed to be always awake, watching, listening for something.
In ten minutes I will call you, and you shall tell his mother and sister whether it be life or death." True to his promise, within the prescribed time the doctor called Bernardine.
Bernardine unfastened her watch from the black hair cord, and attached it instead to Mr. Reffold's massive gold chain. As she sat there fiddling with it, the idea seized her that she would be all the better for a day's outing. At first she thought she would go alone, and then she decided to ask Robert Allitsen. She learnt from Marie that he was in the dark room, and she hastened down.
She forgot that in the shadow of the alcove stood her companion; she forgot the existence of every one save her darling boy, whom she clasped so joyfully. Bernardine watched him herself, unseen, her whole heart in her eyes, like one turned into stone.
Reffold came into the breakfast-room, and, seeing Bernardine, gave her a stiff bow. "I thought you and Mrs. Reffold were such friends," Robert Allitsen said. Bernardine then told him of her last interview with Mrs. Reffold. "Well, if you feel uncomfortable, it is as it should be," he said. "I don't see what business you had to point out to Mrs. Reffold her duty.
There are too many books as it is; and not enough people to dust them. Still, it is not probable that you would be considerate enough to remember that. You will write your book." Bernardine shook her head. "I don't seem to care now," she said. "I think I could now be content with a quieter and more useful part." "You will write your book," he continued. "Now listen to me.
"There are days," she said, "when I can't bear to talk with you. And this is one of them." "I am sorry," he answered, quite gently for him. And he moved away from her, and started for his usual lonely walk. Bernardine turned home, intending to go to see Mr. Reffold. He had become quite attached to her, and looked forward eagerly to her visits.
Going there would be of some benefit to him, after all, for it would bring him surcease of sorrow for one brief hour, forgetfulness of Bernardine during that time. It touched him a little to see how delightedly the girl welcomed him. She, too, was a money-seeker like the rest of her sex; but he could also see that she was in love with him.
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