"John Langdon, a Harvard student, was arrested on the complaint of
Bertha Harris, a young woman, well known in Boston's gas-light circles,
yesterday evening. They had been dining together at a well-known chop
house, when the woman, who appeared to be slightly under the influence
of liquor, suddenly arose and declared that Langdon was trying to rob
her.
"Both were arrested on the charge of creating a disturbance. At the
State Street Police Station the woman said that Langdon had performed a
mock marriage for a fellow student some four months ago. She had acted
as a witness, for which service she was to receive $50. The money had
never been paid. She stated further that the young man, whom Langdon
is alleged to have married, is the son of a wealthy Boston banker, and
the young woman who was thus deceived is a young relative of one of
Boston's social leaders.
"Later Bertha Harris withdrew her charges, saying she was intoxicated
when she made them. The affair has created a profound sensation."
"Mock marriage!" The words whirled before the girl's eyes in letters
of fire. Bertha Harris! Yes, that was the name. It had struck her at
the time when Sanderson dropped the ring. Langdon had said "Bertha
Harris has found it."
The light of her reason seemed to be going out. From the blackness
that engulfed her, the words "mock marriage" rang in her ear like the
cry of the drowning.
"God, oh God!" she called and the pent up agony of her wrecked life was
in the cry.
They found her senseless a moment later, staring up at the ceiling with
glassy eyes, the crumpled paper crushed in her hand.
"She is dead," wailed her mother. The old servant wasted no time in
words. She lifted up the fragile form and laid it tenderly on the bed.
Then she raised the window and called to the first passerby to run for
the nearest doctor.