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.