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But nothing could cheer her. Wärli went away shaking his curly head sadly, shocked at the death of the Dutchman, and shocked at Marie's sorrow. And the cheery little postman did not do much whistling that evening. Bernardine heard of Marie's trouble, and rang for her to come. Marie answered the bell, looking the picture of misery. Her kind face was tear-stained, and her only voice was a sob.
"Are you sorry, my poor girl?" he asked, brokenly. "Yes," she answered, not attempting to stay her bitter tears, "I shall miss you. Life will never be the same to me again." He stopped before her, and caught her passionately to him. "Dear Heaven, help me to say good-bye to you!" he cried; "for you must realize the truth, Bernardine.
King, the housekeeper, had crossed the threshold, and approached her excitedly. "I feared you would be apt to make this mistake," she said, breathlessly. "Your room is in the opposite direction, Miss Moore." Bernardine was about to turn away with a few words of apology, but the housekeeper laid a detaining hand on her arm.
But that was yesterday. The lane had come to an ending at last, and Mr. Reffold lay dead. They bore him to the little mortuary chapel. And Bernardine stayed with Mrs. Reffold, who seemed afraid to be alone. She clung to Bernardine's hand. "No, no," she said excitedly, "you must not go! I can't bear to be alone: you must stay with me!" She expressed no sorrow, no regret.
Suddenly he looked up to the corner where the old camera had stood, before Bernardine took it away in triumph. "I hope she won't hurt that camera," he said a little uneasily. "I am half sorry that" . . . Then a kinder mood took possession of him. "Well, at least it will keep her from fussing and fretting and thinking. Still, I hope she won't hurt it." ONE afternoon when Mrs.
I am sorry you have lost all your money, Miss Rogers; but that will not make any difference in the heartiness of the welcome we give you; and if Bernardine wants you to stay here with us, stay you shall. So take off your bonnet, and make yourself at home." Miss Rogers was quite overcome by the hearty welcome she received from David Moore, the old basket-maker, and Bernardine, his lovely daughter.
At length, almost exhausted, for he was unused to climbing, this haughty, aristocratic young doctor found himself on the sixth floor of the tenement house, and he knocked at the first door he came to. It was opened by the young girl Bernardine. He could see at a glance that her face bore the traces of trouble, and the dark eyes, still heavy with unshed tears, showed signs of recent weeping.
They were standing outside the room set apart for the photograph-maniacs of the Kurhaus. "I cannot go into that horrid little hole," Bernardine said. "And besides, I have promised to play chess with the Swedish professor. And after that I am going to photograph Marie. I promised Wärli I would." The Disagreeable Man smiled grimly. "I hope he will be able to recognize her!" he said.
To the surprise of the clerks, as they reached the sidewalk from a side entrance of the building, they saw the beautiful young girl still standing in front of the store with the parcel in her hand and a look of bewilderment on her face. "It is a little after six," murmured Bernardine, glancing up at a clock in an adjacent store. "He has not yet returned, but he will be here soon.
"Only a few days more," he said, sadly. "I will come here for another week, and then the darkness of death will begin for me, for the girl who holds me in such galling chains will return to the city." Why should he not see Bernardine for another week? It would not harm her, and it would be his last gleam of happiness. At this time another suitor for Bernardine's hand appeared upon the scene.
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