CHAPTER XXV.

For long hours after the doctor had left Ida May, she wept so bitterly over the fate of her little child that Miss Fernly grew alarmed.

"Crying will not bring the baby back," she said. "The Almighty knew best whether He wanted it to live or die. You must not rail against the judgment of God!"

[108]

She felt that she must draw her mind into another channel.

"Say that you will be more composed when I see you again," she replied, earnestly, "though it may not be for some days."

"I will try," murmured Ida May, with a sigh. "Will it be long before I see you?" she added, wistfully.

"I am going to my niece's wedding," answered Miss Fernly. "I may remain a few days after at the house."

Ida May drew a long, deep sob.

"How strange the word 'marriage' sounds to me now," she moaned. "When I hear of a young girl's marriage nowadays, I earnestly pray Heaven that her husband may not deceive her!"

"I am sure that there need be nothing to fear in this instance," said Miss Fernly. "My niece sent me her fiancé's picture this morning. He seems to be a noble young fellow. By the way, I will show it to you," she added, still believing that the one thing needful was to divert the girl's mind.

Thoughtless as to what would accrue from her action, Miss Fernly drew a small case from her pocket and touched the spring.

The lid flew back, disclosing a magnificent affair in ivory—the portrait of a young and handsome man.

"He has an honest look in his eyes, and a fair, open countenance," said Miss Fernly. "It was painted three years ago."

As she uttered the words, she handed the portrait to Ida May.

One glance, then a cry of the wildest horror broke from the girl's white, terrified lips.

"God have mercy!" she gasped, "it is he!"

Miss Fernly sprung to her feet, quite as white and terrified as Ida.

"You—you do not mean to say that this is the man who wrought all your woe?" she cried, in horror too great for words.

"Yes!" cried Ida May, springing to her feet, and[109] crying out: "I swear to you that this is Royal Ainsley, the man whom I wedded, and who deserted me! This is the father of my little dead babe!"

The expression upon Miss Fernly's face was horrible to see.

She rose in awful wrath and struck her hands sharply together as she turned and faced the girl.

"It was fate that sent you across my path," she exclaimed, hoarsely. "But for this timely intervention my innocent niece would have wedded that villain on the morrow. But I thank Heaven that I am now able to prevent it, and to avenge you as well, my poor child. Ah!" she cried, as a sudden thought flashed through her mind, "an idea has come to me, by which I can not only wreak my vengeance upon him, but mete out justice to you as well."

"Oh, no, no; do not do anything to harm him!" cried Ida May, in terror. "Cruel as he has been to me, I love him still, and I shall always love him!"

"What I intend to do will not harm him. I repeat that it will right your wrong," she added, grimly. "There shall be a wedding to-morrow, my poor, unfortunate girl. But listen to me well, and heed what I say—you shall be this man's bride to-morrow, instead of my niece. Leave everything to me."

She gathered up her wrap and gloves and put them on.

"I shall have a great deal to do between now and nightfall. But this I say to you, Ida May: Be ready to go with me when I shall come for you. It may be to-night, perhaps to-morrow night. Ask me no questions now, but trust in me implicitly. Since the hour I came across you in your misfortune, you have found me a good friend to you, Ida May, have you not?"

"Yes," sobbed Ida May, wretchedly. "I—I—would have perished in the street but for you, noble lady. I respect and have all confidence in you."

"Then by that confidence do as I bid you," repeated Miss Fernly. "I will send some clothing for you to[110] wear. Wrap about you the long, dark cloak you wore in coming here, and be in readiness."

With these words, Miss Fernly fairly flew from the cottage.

Ida May sunk back in her chair, pale and excited.

"Why should the announcement that he is to be married to-morrow have shocked me?" she moaned. "I had every reason to expect that would occur any day after I read it myself in the paper."

She did not sob or cry out. It seemed to Ida that the very heart within her was crushed. She had borne so much that it appeared there was nothing more left for her to endure.

Miss Fernly was thankful beyond words that she had not brought her maid with her on her last visit.

In all possible haste she hurried to the magnificent home of her sister on Riverside Drive.

Although living in the same city, the married sister saw very little of Miss Fernly, the latter devoted so much of her time to charity. She had not been to the house but once since Mrs. Cramer had written to her of her daughter Hildegarde, and that she was soon to be married.

Hildegarde was delighted when she looked out and saw her aunt drive up.

"What a surprise, dear aunt!" she cried, throwing her white arms about her. "Mamma and I were just speaking of you. I was almost afraid that you had forgotten the date set for the wedding. And just to think you have never met my intended, and he so anxious to see the darling aunt I have always been talking of! I want you to see him, he is so lovely. But what did you think of the picture?" rattled on Hildegarde, in her gay, girlish fashion, without giving the other a chance to answer.

"You are very, very much in love with him?" asked Miss Fernly, anxiously.

"Why shouldn't I be?" cried the girl, blushing as red as a rose, and hiding her peachy face against her[111] aunt's broad shoulder. "No girl ever had a more devoted lover."

"Yes, it is plainly to be seen that you do love him," said Miss Fernly, sternly.

"I do not know what to tell you about him, auntie, except that he is the dearest fellow in all the world, and just adores me; at least, that is what he tells me," said Hildegarde.

"Humph!" ejaculated Miss Fernly.

"I would rather you would see him for yourself, then you could form your own opinion. He will be here this evening. I am sure you will like him."

"At what time do you expect him!" asked Miss Fernly, with unusual interest.

"Let me answer you in the words of the song," said Hildegarde, laughing lightly.

"'Somebody's coming when the dew-drops fall.'"

"Do not be silly, Hildegarde," said her aunt, sharply.

"I asked you what time this young man is to call here this evening."

"It is generally half past seven when he arrives," said Miss Cramer, smiling mischievously.

"Very well," said Miss Fernly. "When he calls, I will go down into the parlor and interview him."

"I'm sure he would be most delighted," returned the young girl, demurely.

"That's neither here nor there," returned Miss Fernly. "I do not care whether he likes me or not."