“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.