OUT IN THE COLD, BLEAK WORLD!

“No doubt you have decided ere this what course you intend to pursue,” said Mrs. Varrick sternly.

“I— I will do whatever you wish,” sobbed the girl; “but oh! let me plead with you to let me stay here until Mr. Varrick returns!”

Mrs. Varrick’s face grew livid in spots with anger, but by a splendid effort she managed to control herself before the detective. She turned to him.

“Will you kindly step into an inner room, and there await the conclusion of this conference?” she asked.

He bowed courteously and complied with her request. When Mrs. Varrick found herself alone with the girl, she made little effort to conceal her hatred.

“Why do you wish to see my son?” she asked, harshly. “To try to get him to condone the atrocious wrong of which you have been guilty? Your audacity amazes me!”

“I have said that I am innocent!” said the girl, and she rose slowly to her feet.

“Never, with my consent, will he ever speak to you again! Do you hear me? I would curse him if he did.

“And it would not stop at that,” went on Mrs. Varrick. “I would cut him off without a dollar, and turn him into the streets a beggar! That would soon bring him to his senses. Ay, I would do all that and more, if he were even to speak to you again. So you can see for yourself the position you would place him in by holding the least conversation with him.”

“He shall not suffer because of me!” sobbed Jessie Bain. “I will go away and never look upon his face again. I only wanted to tell him to believe me. I am going, Mrs. Varrick, out into the cold and bitter world from which he took me. Try to think of me as kindly as you can!”

With this, she turned and walked slowly from the room. On the threshold she paused and turned back.

“Will you say to him—to your son, I mean—that I am very grateful for all that he has done for me,” she asked, “and that if the time ever comes when I can repay it, I will do so? Tell him I would give my life, if I could only serve him!”

“One moment,” said the lady, as she was about to close the door: “I do not wish to send you away empty-handed.”

As she spoke she drew a purse from her pocket, saying:

“You will find this well filled. There is only one condition I make in giving it to you, and that is, that you sign a written agreement that you will never seek or hold any communication with my son hereafter.”

“I am very poor indeed, madame,” Jessie said, “but I— I could not take one penny from—from the person who believes me guilty of theft. But I will sign the agreement, because—because you ask me to do so.”

“Then step this way,” said Mrs. Varrick, going to the table, where, pushing a folded paper aside, Jessie saw a closely written document lying beneath it. On the further end of the table a gold pen was resting on a bronze ink-tray.

Mrs. Varrick dipped the pen in the ink, and handed it to the girl.

“Sign there,” she said, indicating, with a very shaking finger, a line at the bottom.

Perfectly innocent of the dastardly trap that had been set for her, Jessie took the pen from the hand of Hubert’s mother, and fearlessly wrote her name—signing away all hopes of happiness for all time to come, and putting a brand on her innocent brow more terrible than the brand of Cain.

Without waiting for the ink to dry upon it, Mrs. Varrick eagerly snatched the paper and thrust it into her bosom.

Jessie slowly left the room, and a few moments later, carrying the same little bundle that she had brought with her, she passed slowly up the walk and through the arched gate-way, Mrs. Varrick watching after her from behind the lace-draped window.

She watched her out of sight, praying that she might never see her face again.

“I have separated my son from her,” she muttered, sinking down upon a cushioned chair. “Any means was justifiable. He would have married her—it was drifting toward that, and rapidly. I could see it. Heaven only knows how I have plotted and planned, first to find some business by which my son could be called from the city, and during his absence get rid of that girl—so effectually get rid of her that she would never cross his path again. And I have succeeded!”

As she spoke she drew from her bosom the paper which Jessie Bain had signed, and ran her eyes over it.

Heaven pity any girl who signs a document the contents of which she is ignorant!

This document was a statement acknowledging that she, Jessie, had taken Mrs. Varrick’s diamond bracelet, and had hidden it in the bottom of her trunk, intending to slip out the following day and dispose of it, thinking she would have plenty of time to do so ere its loss was discovered; but that in this she had miscalculated, as Mrs. Varrick soon became aware of the theft; that search was made for it, and that a detective, who had been secured for the purpose of tracing it, discovered it in its hiding-place in her trunk; and that, knowing the consequences, she in her terror had made a full confession, acknowledged her guilt and threw herself completely upon Mrs. Varrick’s mercy, who had promised not to prosecute her providing she left the country, which she was only too willing to do.

And to this terrible document Jessie Bain signed her name clearly and plainly.

With hurried step Mrs. Varrick crossed the room and locked the precious document in a secret drawer of her escritoire; then she remembered that the detective was awaiting her. She summoned him quickly.

“The matter has been adjusted, and we have rid the house of the girl’s presence,” she said, coldly. “I thank you for your sagacity in tracing my diamond bracelet,” she said, thinking it best to throw in a dash of covert flattery, “and I shall be pleased to settle your bill whenever you wish to present it.”

The detective bowed himself out of her presence, and left the house, musing on the mysterious robbery, and saying to himself: “I would be far more apt to suspect the lady of the house than that young girl.”

He sighed and went on his way; but all day long, while immersed in the business which usually was of such an exciting nature that he had no time for any other thought, the lovely face of Jessie Bain rose up before him.

He threw down his pen at last in despair.

“I must be bewitched,” he muttered. “If I were a younger man I would certainly say that I had fallen in love. I must find out where that girl has gone, and have a little talk with her. I can not bring myself to believe that she stole that bracelet.”

He put on his hat and reached for his cane.

“I can not say how long it will be before I shall return,” he said to his fellow detective in charge of the office.

In the meantime, in her lonely mansion, Mrs. Varrick was writing a long letter to her son. In it she expressed the hope that he was having a pleasant time, and that he must not hurry home, but stay and attend to business thoroughly, even though it took him a little longer. But not one word did she mention of Jessie Bain. So preoccupied was she with her own thoughts that she did not know Hubert had entered the room until she heard his voice.

“I will save you the trouble of posting your letter, mother. I see it is addressed to me. You can read me the contents in person.”