Читать книгу: «Jolly Sally Pendleton: or, the Wife Who Was Not a Wife», страница 8

CHAPTER XXVIII

Quick as a flash, Jasper Wilde's two men seized Jay Gardiner from behind and pinioned his arms, Wilde the while excitedly explaining something in German to them.

Doctor Gardiner, as we have explained, was an athletic young man. He could easily have disposed of Wilde, and probably a companion; but it is little wonder that the three men soon succeeded in overpowering him, while Wilde, with one awful blow, knocked him into insensibility ere he had time to refute the charge his antagonist had made against him.

"Take him to my private wine-cellar!" commanded Wilde, excitedly. "He's a fellow we've been trying to catch around here for some time. He's a thief, I tell you!"

The men obeyed their employer's command, little dreaming it was an innocent man they were consigning to a living tomb.

It was an hour afterward ere consciousness returned to Jay Gardiner. For a moment he was dazed, bewildered; then the recollection of the encounter, and the terrible blow he had received over the temple, recurred to him.

Where was he? The darkness and silence of death reigned. The air was musty. He lay upon a stone flagging through which the slime oozed.

Like a flash he remembered the words of Jasper Wilde.

"Take him to my private wine-cellar until I have time to attend to him."

Yes, that was where he must be – in Wilde's wine-cellar.

While he was cogitating over this scene, an iron door at the further end of the apartment opened, and a man, carrying a lantern, hastily entered the place, and stood on the threshold for a moment.

Doctor Gardiner saw at once that it was Jasper Wilde.

"Come to, have you?" cried Wilde, swinging the light in his face. "Well, how do you like your quarters, my handsome, aristocratic doctor, eh?"

"How dare you hold me a prisoner here?" demanded Jay Gardiner, striking the floor with his manacled hands. "Release me at once, I say!"

A sneering laugh broke from Wilde's thin lips.

"Dare!" he repeated, laying particular stress upon the word. "We Wildes dare anything when there is a pretty girl like beautiful Bernardine concerned in it."

"You scoundrel!" cried Jay Gardiner, "if I were but free from these shackles, I would teach you the lesson of your life!"

"A pinioned man is a fool to make threats," sneered Wilde. "But come, now. Out with it, curse you! Where is Bernardine? – where have you hidden her?"

"I refuse to answer your question," replied Jay Gardiner, coolly. "I know where she is, but that knowledge shall never be imparted to you without her consent."

"I will wring it from your lips, curse you!" cried Wilde, furiously. "I will torture you here, starve you here, until you go mad and are glad to speak."

"Even though you kill me, you shall not learn from my lips the whereabouts of Bernardine Moore!" exclaimed Jay Gardiner, hoarsely.

As the hours dragged their slow lengths by, exhausted nature asserted itself, and despite the hunger and burning thirst he endured, and the pain in his head, sleep —

"Tired Nature's sweet restorer – balmy sleep" —

came to him.

Suddenly the door opened, and Jasper Wilde, still carrying a lantern, looked in.

"It is morning again," he said. "How have you passed the night, my handsome doctor? I see the rodents have not eaten you. I shouldn't have been the least surprised if they had. I assure you, I wonder they could have abstained from such a feast."

"You fiend incarnate!" cried Jay Gardiner, hoarsely. "Remove these shackles, and meet me as man to man. Only a dastardly coward bullies a man who can not help himself."

"Still defiant, my charming doctor!" laughed Wilde. "I marvel at that. I supposed by this time you would be quite willing to give me the information I desired."

Jay Gardiner could not trust himself to speak, his indignation was so great.

"Au revoir again," sneered Wilde. "The day will pass and the night will follow, in the natural course of events. To-morrow, at this hour, I shall look in on you again, my handsome doctor. Look out for the rodents. Bless me! they are dashing over the floor. I must fly!"

Again the door closed, and with a groan Jay Gardiner could not repress, he sunk to the floor, smiting it with his manacled hands, and wondering how soon this awful torture would end.

CHAPTER XXIX

During the long hours of the night which followed, Jay Gardiner dared not trust himself to sleep for a single instant, so great was his horror of the rodents that scampered in droves across the damp floor of the cellar in which he was a prisoner.

He felt that his brain must soon give way, and that Jasper Wilde would have his desire – he would soon be driven to insanity.

He thought of Bernardine, who was waiting for him to return to her, and he groaned aloud in the bitterness of his anguish, in the agony of his awful despair.

The manacles cut into his flesh, for his wrists had swollen as he lay there, and the burning thirst was becoming maddening.

"Great God in Heaven! how long – ah, how long, will this torture last?" he cried.

In the midst of his anguish, he heard footsteps; but not those for which he longed so ardently. A moment later, and Jasper Wilde stood before him.

"Now let me tell you what my revenge upon the beautiful Bernardine will be for preferring you to myself. I shall marry her – she dare not refuse when I have her here – that I warrant you. As I said before, I shall marry the dainty Bernardine, the cold, beautiful, haughty Bernardine, and then I shall force her to go behind the bar, and the beauty of her face will draw custom from far and near.

"Nothing could be so revolting to her as this. It will crush her, it will kill her, and I, whose love for her has turned into hate – yes, deepest, deadly hate – will stand by and watch her, and laugh at her. Ha! ha! ha!"

With a fury born of madness, Doctor Gardiner wrenched himself free from the chains that bound him, and with one flying leap was upon his enemy and had hurled him to the floor, his hand clutching Wilde's throat.

"It shall be death to one or other of us!" he panted, hoarsely.

But he had not reckoned that in his weak condition he was no match for Jasper Wilde, who for the moment was taken aback by the suddenness of the attack.

That the encounter would have ended in certain death to Jay Gardiner, in his exhausted state, was quite apparent to Jasper Wilde; but in that moment fate intervened to save him. Hardly had the two men come together in that desperate death-struggle, ere the startling cry of "Fire!" rang through the building.

Jasper Wilde realized what that meant. There was but one exit from the cellar, and if he did not get out of it in a moment's time, he would be caught like a rat in a trap. Gathering himself together, he wrenched himself free from the doctor's grasp, and hurling him to the floor with a fearful blow planted directly between the eyes, sprung over the threshold.

Wilde paused a single instant to shout back:

"I leave you to your fate, my handsome doctor! Ha! ha! ha!"

But fate did not intend Jay Gardiner to die just then, even though he sunk back upon the flags with an awful groan and fully realized the horror of the situation.

That groan saved him. A fireman heard it, and in less time than it takes to tell it, a brawny, heroic fellow sprung through the iron door-way, which Wilde in his mad haste had not taken time to close.

A moment more, and the fireman had carried his burden up through the flames, and out into the pure air.

The fresh air revived the young doctor, as nothing else could have done.

"Give me your name and address," he said, faintly, to the fireman. "You shall hear from me again;" and the man good-naturedly complied, and then turned back the next instant to his duty.

In the excitement, he forgot to ask whose life it was he had saved.

The fire proved to be a fearful holocaust. Canal Street had never known a conflagration that equaled it.

Doctor Gardiner made superhuman efforts to enter the tenement-house, to save the life of the old basket-maker – Bernardine's hapless father – who stood paralyzed, incapable of action, at an upper window. But no human being could breast that sea of flame; and with a cry of horror, the young doctor saw the tenement collapse, and David Moore was buried in the ruins.

He had forfeited his life for the brandy he had taken just a little while before, which utterly unfitted him to make an effort to get out of the building.

Jay Gardiner, sick at heart, turned away with a groan. He must go to Bernardine at once; but, Heaven help her! how could he break the news of her great loss to her?

As he was deliberating on what course to pursue, a hand was suddenly laid on his shoulder, and a voice said, lustily:

"By all that is wonderful, I can scarcely believe my eyes, Jay Gardiner, that this is you! I expected you were at this moment hundred of miles away from New York. But, heavens! how ill you look! Your clothes are covered with dust. What can be the matter with you, Jay?"

Turning suddenly at the sound of the familiar voice, Doctor Gardiner found himself face to face with the young physician who took charge of his office while he was away.

"Come with me; you shall not tell me now, nor talk. Come to the office, and let me fix up something for you, or you will have a spell of sickness."

And without waiting to heed Jay Gardiner's expostulations – that he must go somewhere else first – he called a passing cab, and hustled him into it.

Owing to his splendid physique, he felt quite as good as new the next morning, save for the pain in his head, where he had fallen upon the stone flagging of the wine cellar.

Without any more loss of time than was absolutely necessary, he set out for the old nurse's house, at which he had left Bernardine two days before. He had half expected to find her ill, and he was not a little surprised when she came to the door in answer to his summons.

"Mrs. Gray is out," she said, "and I saw you coming, Doctor Gardiner, and oh, I could not get here quick enough to see you and thank you for what you have done for me – risked your own life to save a worthless one like mine."

"Hush, hush, Bernardine! You must not say that!" he cried, seizing her little hands.

He drew her into the plain little sitting-room, seated her, then turned from her abruptly and commenced pacing up and down the room, his features working convulsively.

It was by the greatest effort he had restrained himself from clasping her in his arms. Only Heaven knew how great was the effort.

"Why did you attempt to drown yourself, Bernardine?" he asked, at length. "Tell me the truth."

"Yes, I will tell you," sobbed Bernardine, piteously. "I did it because I did not wish to become Jasper Wilde's bride."

"But why were you driven to such a step?" he persisted. "Surely you could have said 'No,' and that would have been sufficient."

For a moment she hesitated, then she flung herself, sobbing piteously, on her knees at his feet.

"If I tell you all, will you pledge yourself to keep my secret, and my father's secret, come what may?" she cried, wringing her hands.

"Yes," he replied, solemnly. "I shall never divulge what you tell me. You can speak freely, Bernardine."

And Bernardine did speak freely. She told him all without reserve – of the sword Jasper Wilde held over her head because of her poor father, whom he could send to the gallows, although he was an innocent man, if she refused to marry him.

Jay Gardiner listened to every word with intense interest.

"While I have been here I have been thinking – thinking," she sobbed. "Oh, it was cruel of me to try to avoid my duty to poor father. I must go back and – and marry Jasper Wilde, to save poor papa, who must now be half-crazed by my disappearance."

Doctor Gardiner clasped her little hands still closer. The time had come when he must break the awful news to her that her father was no longer in Jasper Wilde's power; that he had passed beyond all fear of him, all fear of punishment at the hand of man.

"Are you strong enough to bear a great shock, Bernardine?" he whispered, involuntarily gathering the slender figure to him.

The girl grew pale as death.

"Is it something about father? Has anything happened to him?" she faltered, catching her breath.

He nodded his head; then slowly, very gently, he told her of the fire, and that he had seen her father perish – that he was now forever beyond Jasper Wilde's power.

Poor Bernardine listened like one turned to stone: then, without a word or a cry, fell at his feet in a faint.

At that opportune moment the old nurse returned.

Doctor Gardiner soon restored her to consciousness; but it made his heart bleed to witness her intense grief. She begged him to take her to the ruins, and with great reluctance he consented.

Ordering a cab at the nearest stand, he placed her in it, and took a seat by her side, feeling a vague uneasiness, a consciousness that this ride should never have been taken.

She was trembling like a leaf. What could he do but place his strong arm about her? In that moment, in the happiness of being near her, he forgot that he was in honor bound to another, and that other Sally Pendleton, whom he was so soon to lead to the altar to make his wife.

The girl he loved with all the strength of his heart was so near to him – ah, Heaven! so dangerously near – the breath from her lips was wafted to him with each passing breeze, and seemed to steal his very senses from him.

Oh, if he could but indulge in one moment of happiness – could clasp her in his arms but a single moment, and kiss those trembling lips just once, he would be willing to pay for it by a whole life-time of sorrow, he told himself.

Ah! why must he refuse himself so resolutely this one draught of pleasure that fate had cast in his way?

He hesitated, and we all know what happens to the man who hesitates – he is lost.

At this moment Bernardine turned to him, sobbing piteously:

"Oh, what shall I do, Doctor Gardiner? Father's death leaves me all alone in the world – all alone, with no one to love me!"

In an instant he forgot prudence, restraint; he only knew that his heart, ay, his very soul, flowed out to her in a torrent so intense no human will could have restrained it.

Almost before he was aware of it, his arms were about her, straining her to his madly beating heart, his passionate kisses falling thrillingly upon her beautiful hair and the sweet, tender lips, while he cried, hoarsely:

"You shall never say that again, beautiful Bernardine! I love you – yes, I love you with all my heart and soul! Oh, darling! answer me – do you care for me?"

The girl recoiled from him with a low, wailing sob. The words of the fashionably attired young girl who had called upon her so mysteriously on that never-to-be-forgotten day, and taunted her with – "He is deceiving you, girl! Doctor Gardiner may talk to you of love, but he will never – never speak to you of marriage. Mark my words!" – were ringing like a death-knell in her ears.

"Oh, Bernardine!" he cried, throwing prudence to the winds, forgetting in that moment everything save his mad love for her – "oh, my darling! you are not alone in the world! I love you! Marry me, Bernardine, and save me from the future spreading out darkly before me – marry me within the hour —now! Don't refuse me. We are near a church now. The rector lives next door. We will alight here, and in five minutes you will be all my own to comfort, to care for, to protect and idolize, to worship as I would an angel from Heaven!"

He scarcely waited for her to consent. He stopped the coach, and fairly lifted her from the vehicle in his strong arms.

"Oh, Doctor Gardiner, is it for the best?" she cried, clinging to him with death-cold hands. "Are you sure you want me?"

The answer that he gave her, as he bent his fair, handsome head, must have satisfied her. Loving him as she did, how could she say him nay?

They entered the parsonage, and when they emerged from it, ten minutes later, Bernardine was Jay Gardiner's wedded wife.

And that was the beginning of the tragedy.

"I shall not take you to the scene of the fire just now, my darling," he decided. "The sight would be too much for you. In a day or two, when you have become more reconciled to your great loss, I will take you there."

"You know best, Doctor Gardiner," she sobbed, as they re-entered the vehicle. "I will do whatever you think is best."

"Where to, sir?" asked the driver, touching his cap.

"We will go to Central Park," he answered; then turning to Bernardine, he added: "When we reach there, we will alight and dismiss this man. We will sit down on one of the benches, talk matters over, and decide what is best to be done – where you would like to go for your wedding-trip; but, my love, my sweetheart, my life, you must not call me 'Doctor Gardiner.' To you, from this time on, I am Jay, your own fond husband!"

CHAPTER XXX

Jay Gardiner had taken fate in his own hands. He had married the girl he loved, casting aside every barrier that lay between them, even to facing the wrath, and, perhaps, the world's censure in deserting the girl to whom he was betrothed, but whom he did not love.

He was deeply absorbed in thinking about this as the cab stopped at the park entrance.

"Come, my darling!" exclaimed Jay, kissing fondly the beautiful face upturned to him, "we will alight and talk over our plans for the future."

She clung to him, as he with tender care, lifted her from the vehicle.

He was her husband, this grand, kingly, fair-haired man, at whom the women passing looked so admiringly. She could hardly realize it, hardly dare believe it, but for the fact that he was calling her his darling bride with every other breath.

He found her a seat beneath a wide-spreading tree, where the greensward was like velvet beneath their feet, and the air was redolent with the scent of flowers that rioted in the sunshine hard by.

"Now, first of all, my precious Bernardine, we must turn our thoughts in a practical direction long enough to select which hotel we are to go to; and another quite as important matter, your wardrobe, you know."

Bernardine looked up at him gravely.

"This dress will do for the present," she declared. "The good, kind old nurse dried and pressed it out so nicely for me that it looks almost as good as new. And as for going to a hotel, I am sure it is too expensive. We could go to a boarding-house where the charges would be moderate."

Jay Gardiner threw back his handsome head, and laughed so loud and so heartily that Bernardine looked at him anxiously.

"Now that I come to think the matter over, I don't think I ever told you much concerning my financial affairs," he said, smiling.

"No; but papa guessed about them," replied Bernardine.

"Tell me what he guessed?" queried Jay. "He thought I was poor?"

"Yes," replied Bernardine, frankly. "He said that all doctors had a very hard time of it when they started in to build up a practice, and that you must be having a very trying experience to make both ends meet."

"Was that why he did not want me for a son-in-law?"

"Yes, I think so," admitted Bernardine, blushing.

"Tell me this, my darling," he said, eagerly catching at the pretty little hands lying folded in her lap; "why is it that you have waived all that, that you have married me, not knowing whether I had enough to pay for a day's lodging?"

The most beautiful light that ever was seen flashed into the tender dark eyes, a smile curved the red lips that set all the pretty dimples dancing in the round, flushed cheeks.

"I married you because – " and then she hesitated shyly.

"Go on, Bernardine," he persisted; "you married me because – "

"Because I – I loved you," she whispered, her lovely face fairly covered with blushes.

"Now, the first thing to do, sweetheart, is to call a cab, that you may go to the nearest large dry-goods store and make such purchases as you may need for immediate use. I can occupy the time better than standing about looking at you. I will leave you at the store, and have the cabby drive me around to the old nurse and explain what has occurred, and tell her that you won't come back. 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.

Jay Gardiner laughed good-naturedly.

"You shall have everything your heart desires, my precious one," he declared. "Don't worry about the price of anything you want; buy it, and I shall be only too pleased, believe me."

There was no time to say anything further, for the store was reached, and Jay had barely time to snatch a kiss from the beautiful lips ere he handed her out.

"I will return in just an hour from now, Bernardine, with this cab," he said. "If you are not then at the door, looking for me, I shall wait here patiently until you do come out."

"How good you are to me!" murmured the girl, her dark eyes brimming over with tears. "If papa could only know!"

"There, there now, my darling, it hurts me to see those eyes shed tears! The past is past. Your father would be glad to know you have a protector to love and care for you. Try to forget, as much as you can, the sad calamity, for my sake."

And with another pressure of the hands, he turned away and sprung into the cab, watching the slender form from the window until it disappeared in the door-way and was lost to sight.

"Love thrust honor and duty aside," he murmured. "I married sweet Bernardine on the impulse of the moment, and I shall never regret it. I will have a time with Sally Pendleton and her relatives; but the interview will be a short one. She has other admirers, and she will soon console herself. It was my money, instead of myself, that she wanted, anyhow, so there is no damage done to her heart, thank goodness. I will – "

The rest of the sentence was never finished. There was a frightful crash, mingled with the terrific ringing of car-bells, a violent plunge forward, and Jay Gardiner knew no more.

With a thoughtful face, Bernardine walked quickly into the great dry-goods store.

She tried to do her husband's bidding – put all thoughts of it from her for the time being – until she could weep over it calmly, instead of giving way to the violent, pent-up anguish throbbing in her heart at that moment.

She had not been accustomed to spending much money during her young life. The very few dresses she had had done duty for several years, by being newly made over, sponged, and pressed, and freshened by a ribbon here, or a bit of lace there. So it did not take long to make the few purchases she deemed necessary, and even then she felt alarmed in finding that they footed up to nearly seven dollars, which appeared a great sum to her.

Six o'clock now struck, and the clerks hustled away the goods en the counters, and covered those on the shelves with surprising agility, much to the annoyance of many belated customers who had come in too late "to just look around and get samples."

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. I do not wonder that the driver of the cab he is in can make but little headway, the crowds on the street and crossings are so great."

One cab after another whirled by, their occupants in many instances looking back to catch another glimpse of that perfect face with its wistful expression which had turned toward them so eagerly and then turned away so disappointedly.

"A shop girl waiting for some fellow who is to come in a cab and take her out to supper," remarked two dudes who were sauntering up Broadway.

Bernardine heard the remark, and flushed indignantly.

How she wished she dared tell them that she was waiting for her husband! Yes, she was waiting – waiting, but he came not.