offer of wealth had come to her too late. It could not buy that which was more to her than everything else in the world put together--Jay Gardiner's love.

The companionship of beautiful women, the homage of n.o.ble men, were as nothing to her. She would go through life with a dull, aching void in her breast. There would always be a longing cry in her heart that would refuse to be stilled. No matter where she went, whom she met, the face of Jay Gardiner, as she had seen it first--the laughing, dark-blue eyes and the bonny brown curls--would haunt her memory while her life lasted.

"Good-bye, my lost love! It is best that you and I should never meet again!" she sobbed.

Suddenly she became aware that she was not standing there alone.

Scarcely ten feet from her she beheld the figure of a man, and she realized that he was regarding her intently.

CHAPTER LIII.

For a single instant Bernardine felt her terror mastering her; it was certainly not an idle fear conjured up by her own excited brain.

The clock from an adjacent tower struck the hour of midnight as she stood there by the brookside, peering, with beating heart, among the dense shadow of the trees.

She gazed with dilated eyes. Surely it was her fancy. One of the shadows, which she had supposed to be a stunted tree, moved, crept nearer and nearer, until it took the form of a man moving stealthily toward her.

Bernardine's first impulse was to turn and fly; but her limbs seemed powerless to move.

Yes, it was a man. She saw that he was moving more quickly forward now, and in a moment of time he had reached her side, and halted directly before her.

"Ah!" he cried in a voice that had a very Frenchy accent. "I am delighted to see you, my dear lady. Fate has certainly favored me, or, perhaps, my note reached you and you are come in search of me. Very kind--very considerate. They are having a fine time up at the mansion yonder in your honor, of course. Knowing your _penchant_ for lights, music, laughter, and admiration, I confess I am _very_ much surprised to see that you have stolen a few minutes to devote to--me."

Bernardine realized at once that this stranger mistook her for some one else--some one who had expected to see him. She tried to wrench herself free from the steel-like grasp of his fingers, that had closed like a vise about her slender wrist; but not a muscle responded to her will, nor could she find voice to utter a single sound.

"Let us come to an understanding, my dear Mrs. Gardiner. I do not like this new move on your part."

It was then, and not till then, that Bernardine found her voice.

"I am not Mrs. Gardiner!" she exclaimed, struggling to free herself from the man's detaining hold on her arm.

The effect of her words was like an electric shock to the man. He reeled back as though he had been suddenly shot.

"You--are--not--young Mrs. Gardiner?" he gasped, his teeth fairly chattering. "Then, by Heaven! you are a spy, sent here by her to incriminate me, to be a witness against me! It was a clever scheme, but she shall see that it will fail signally."

"I am no spy!" replied Bernardine, indignantly, "No one sent me here, least of all, young Mrs. Gardiner!"

"I do not believe you!" retorted the man, bluntly. "At any rate, you know too much of this affair to suit me. You must come along with me."

"You are mad!" cried Bernardine, haughtily. "I have, as you say, unwittingly stumbled across some secret in the life of yourself and one who has won the love of a man any woman would have been proud to have called--husband!"

"So you are in love with the handsome, lordly Jay, eh?" sneered her companion. "It's a pity you had not captured the washing millionaire, instead of pretty, bewitching, coquettish Sally," he went on, with a fit of harsh laughter.

"Sir, unhand me and let me go!" cried Bernardine. "Your words are an insult! Leave me at once, or I shall cry out for help!"

"I believe you would be fool-hardy enough to attempt it," responded her companion; "but I intend to nip any such design in the bud. You must come along with me, I say. If you are wise, you will come along peaceably. Attempt to make an outcry, and--well, I never yet felled a woman, but there's always the first time. You invite the blow by going contrary to my commands. My carriage is in waiting, fortunately, just outside the thicket yonder."

Bernardine saw that the man she had to deal with was no ordinary person.

He meant every word that he said. She tried to cry out to Heaven to help her in this, her hour of need, but her white lips could form no word.

Suddenly she felt herself lifted in a pair of strong arms, a hand fell swiftly over her mouth, and she knew no more. Sky, trees, the dark, handsome, swarthy face above her and the earth beneath her seemed to rock and reel.

Carrying his burden swiftly along a path almost covered by tangled underbrush, the man struck at length into a little clearing at one side of the main road. Here, as he had said, a horse and buggy were in waiting.

A lighted lantern was in the bottom of the vehicle. He swung this into the unconscious girl's face as he thrust her upon the seat. He had expected to see one of the servants of the mansion--a seamstress, or one of the maids, perhaps--but he was totally unprepared for the vision of girlish loveliness that met his gaze.

While he had gazed with fascinated eyes at the faultlessly beautiful face of Bernardine, his heart had gone from him in one great, mad throb of pa.s.sionate love.

"This lovely bird has walked directly into my drag-net," he muttered.

"Why should she not be mine, whether she loves or _hates_ me?"

CHAPTER LIV.

On and on the dark-browed stranger urges the almost thoroughly exhausted horse, until after an hour's hard driving he comes upon a small farm-house standing in the midst of a clearing in the dense wood.

Here he drew rein, uttering a loud "Halloo!"

In answer to his summons, two men and a woman came hurrying forward, one of the men going toward the horse.

"Mercy on us!" exclaimed the woman, amazedly, "Victor Lament has brought the young woman with him."

"No comments!" exclaimed Lamont, harshly, as he lifted his unconscious burden out of the buggy.

"And why not, pray?" demanded the woman, impudently. "Why should I not make comments when my husband is your pal in all your schemes; that is, he does the work while you play the fine gentleman, and he doesn't get half of the money by a long shot?"

"But I insist upon knowing now," declared the woman. "Who is the girl you are carrying in your arms, and why have you brought her here--of all places in the world?"

By this time they had reached the house, and Lamont strode in and laid his unconscious burden upon a wooden settee, which was the only article of furniture the apartment possessed.

"Why don't you answer, Victor Lamont?" cried the woman, shrilly. "Ten to one it's some girl whose puny, pretty face has fascinated you, and you're in love with her."

"Well, supposing that is the case," he replied, coolly; "what then?"

"I would say your fool-hardiness had got the better of your reason," she replied.

"That is the case with most men who do so foolish a thing as to fall in love," he answered, carelessly.

"Keep an eye on the girl, and do not let her leave this farm-house until after our work around here is done."

"I will promise under one condition," replied his companion; "and that is that you will not attempt to see the girl, or speak to her."

"Do you think I am a fool?" retorted Lamont.