CHAPTER XXVI.
BRIBING A BRIDE.
Mrs. Cline’s startling announcement was like a bolt of lightning falling from a clear sky.
The young bride uttered one horrified cry, then fell back in her chair, half fainting, her big, frightened brown eyes staring wildly at Mrs. Cline, who, in a very tempest of excitement, continued to rage.
“Never heard of such high-handed villainy in my life, never! No wonder you look so white and scared, my dear young lady! Here, drink this wine to nerve you while I tell you the rest.”
She pressed the glass to Berry’s lips and forced her to swallow a few mouthfuls, then began again:
“Try to bear it the best you can, for it can’t be kept from you, all this bad news, and you must keep your wits about you to plan something to do for your husband. Yes, cry all you want to, it’ll relieve your heart; and this outrage is enough to make the very angels weep! The servants at Bonair tell a terrible tale about the fuss between the father and son! They say there was an awful scene between them when Mr. Charley went in this morning. The senator was in a tearing-down rage, and would not listen to a word of excuse for his marriage, but cursed and abused him, and finally turned him out of doors, disinherited. And the worst of it was that he had already caused a warrant to be got, arresting him for insanity, and the officers took him just as he was leaving his father’s house, all broke up with sorrow and despair.”
“Ah, Heaven! my poor husband!” moaned Berenice, heartbroken and bewildered.
“Wasn’t it an outrage!” cried the woman indignantly. “And to climax the meanness, Mrs. Bonair, what else do you think that heartless old hunks of a senator did? He got mad at my husband for letting the wedding be at our home, and has discharged him from his position at Bonair, and ordered him to vacate this cottage as soon as he can pack up his goods.”
“Oh, Heaven! that you should suffer for our fault. This is terrible. It were better I had perished in Zilla’s clutches than to live and involve poor Charley and his friends in such misery!” sobbed Berry.
“Don’t look at it that way, dear young lady,” condoled Mrs. Cline, who, having now blurted out the whole story, became less excited and eager to soothe the distressed young bride, so she continued:
“Bless your heart, we can soon get another place—sooner, I expect, than the senator can suit himself to another man. And we aren’t penniless, either. We have a tidy bit of savings put by, besides the nice gift of money, so don’t worry over that! The thing is to get Mr. Charley out of jail as soon as possible.”
“But, oh, how shall we do it? It is cruel, cruel to have placed him there! We know well he is not insane!” wept Berry.
“Of course he is not,” agreed the woman; “and my husband says a lawyer must be got at once and set to work to get him out of that as soon as possible.”
“Hark! the doorbell!” cried Berry, and Mrs. Cline went to obey the summons.
She returned quickly with an official-looking letter.
“It is for you—brought down by one of Senator Bonair’s servants, who will wait for the answer,” she said, in high excitement.
The startled bride took the aggressive-looking envelope, with fingers that shook as she tore it open.
Her eyes were so blurred by tears she could scarcely read, but presently it all came to her that Senator Bonair was making her a cold business proposition to consent to a prompt divorce from his son upon the payment of a handsome sum of money.
The tears rushed to her eyes—tears of burning indignation—and her heart beat suffocatingly.
“What does the old villain want of you, if I may ask?” queried the curious Mrs. Cline.
Berry handed her the letter to read, saying bitterly:
“He wishes to bribe me—Charley’s bride of a week—to consent to a divorce.”
“The mean old tyrant! He ought to be hung!” ejaculated the woman, as her eyes devoured the curt note. She handed it back, and asked:
“What shall you say to this insult, dearie?”
“Only give me a pen and I will show you!” cried Berenice, her eyes flashing through their bitter tears. She seized it and wrote, in a nervous, trembling hand, across the back of the senator’s sheet:
“Those whom God has joined together, let not man put asunder!”
To these words the bride wrote her full name, in a large, aggressive hand:
“Berenice Vining Bonair.”
“I guess that will settle him for good!” laughed Mrs. Cline, as she handed Berry a fresh envelope to address to Senator Bonair.
This done, she carried the letter quickly to the waiting messenger, saying, with a proud toss of the head:
“There’s a letter for your master, and much good may it do him! There’s some folks whose principles he can’t buy with his yellow gold!”
She was turning to retrace her steps when she saw Mr. Weston coming up to the door with a pale, excited face.
“Ah, good morning!” he exclaimed courteously. “I hope the invalid—Mrs. Bonair—can see me this evening for a few minutes. I have just heard the shocking news about her husband, and came to see her to offer my services to do anything she wishes, providing, of course, she has no nearer friends she would prefer to act for her in the case.”
“Bless you, sir, I don’t think she knows anybody in San Francisco but us two, and poor Sam is so upset with his discharge off the place, and moving orders at the same time, that I don’t believe he hardly knows where he’s at, sir; and it seems like Heaven must have sent you to my poor lady’s relief!” cried Mrs. Cline, ushering him straight into Berry’s presence without thinking it necessary to ask permission.
Berry was sobbing, bitterly, with her face in her hands, and she looked up with a start that made him say deprecatingly:
“Forgive this intrusion, but I came to see if I couldn’t help you. I know the outrage your husband has suffered, and he will need a friend to look after his interests. Do you wish me to act as your friend in this matter?”
“Ah, this is very noble in you, Mr. Weston. A friend in need is a friend indeed. I accept your offer in the same spirit it is offered, and am most grateful,” faltered Berry, giving him her hand which he pressed, cordially, then released, saying:
“Now I am very glad, indeed, that I came. Of course, this absurd charge cannot be proved against your husband, and the whole affair is spite work, still he may be imprisoned for days and kept in suspense when prompt action might procure speedy trial of his case and consequent freedom. Having your leave to represent you in this case, I shall engage a lawyer, who, with a writ of habeas corpus, can secure Mr. Bonair’s immediate release and trial on the groundless charge.”
“Oh, thank Heaven—and you!” cried the bride fervently. “Oh, then perhaps he need not, poor boy, spend the terrible night in prison!”
“That I cannot promise you certainly, but I will make all possible haste to restore him to you quickly. In order to do this I must be going. Farewell, and keep up a brave heart. This is only a temporary affliction; it will soon be over,” he added cheerfully, bowing himself out, leaving Berry with a lighter heart, though her tears flowed fast.
“You are clean wore out with your troubles, poor soul!” cried Mrs. Cline. “Now you must lie down and rest a while, so as not to get sick again, won’t you? For we shall have our hands full now, me a-packing up, and Sam a-looking out for a place to move to, see? But we shan’t desert you, you poor lamb, nor Mr. Charley, either; for no matter where we go, you can come with us, and he can, too, until he gets fixed for that honeymoon trip he’s been planning this week! Though dear knows if he can afford it now, because he has only an allowance from his father, and I don’t know if he has saved any of it or not! But there’s money coming to him from his mother’s estate before long, and that’ll fix him up nicely, you see.”
While she chattered on, Mrs. Cline got Berry to lie down on her little white couch for her much-needed rest, and then she went out to see to the packing up of her household goods, preparatory to giving up the cottage to another tenant.
Many tears fell as she moved about her work with the assistance of her yellow-faced Chinese boy of all work, for she had come here a bride, eighteen years ago, and fondly hoped to spend her life in the cottage with Sam. But fate had willed otherwise, and with a sad heart she prepared to go.
But not for all that did Mrs. Cline repent for one moment her kindness to Mr. Charley and his bonnie bride, although that had got her into trouble with the master and banishment from Bonair.
“I’d do the same thing over again, if I knew beforehand what was going to happen!” she vowed stoutly.