The Unseen Bridgegroom - or, Wedded For a Week by May Agnes Fleming
page 76 of 371 (20%)
page 76 of 371 (20%)
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WHERE THE BRIDE WAS.
The letter in the buff envelope which had so startled Mollie was very brief. There were but eight or nine lines, wretchedly scrawled: "MOLLIE DANE,--Come to me at once, if you want to find out who you are, who your parents were, what Carl Walraven is to you. This is your wedding-night; but come. I am very ill--dying; I may not see morning. If you delay, it will be too late. The bearer is my friend; she will conduct you to me. Tell no one. Carl Walraven will prevent you, if he can. I say to you, come--come--come. "MIRIAM." If there was one thing on earth that flighty Mollie was really in earnest about, it was in knowing her own history. Her marriage sunk into insignificance in comparison. She dispatched Lucy at once for the bearer of the note, sent her friends to the right-about, and closeted herself with the young woman--a pale young woman, with dark eyes and an intelligent face. "Who are you?" abruptly demanded the bride, looking curiously at her. "Sarah Grant," answered the young woman--"a shopgirl." "Who sent you with this note?" "A woman who lodges in the same house--a tall, gaunt, half-crazed |
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