The sound of the galloping hoofs of Victor Lamont's steed had scarcely
died away in the distance ere Bernardine opened her eyes and looked
wonderingly about her. For an instant she believed that her strange
surroundings--the bare room, with its curtainless windows, and the
strange women bending over her--were but the vagaries of a too realistic
dream from which she was awakening. But even while this impression was
strong upon her, the woman said, sneeringly:
"So you have regained consciousness--that's bad;" and she looked crossly
at the girl.
"Where am I--and who are you?" asked Bernardine, amazedly, sitting bolt
upright on the wooden settee, and staring in wonder up at the hard face
looking down into her own. But before she could answer, a wave of memory
swept over Bernardine, and she cried out in terror: "Oh, I remember
standing by the brook, and the dark-faced man that appeared--how he
caught hold of my arms in a grasp of steel, and I fainted. Did he bring
me away from Gardiner Castle?" she demanded, indignantly--"_dared_ he do
such a thing?"
"Do not get excited," replied the woman, coolly. "Always take everything
cool--that's the best way."
"But why did he bring me here?" insisted Bernardine.
"You will have to ask him when he comes back. He is the only one who can
answer that," returned the woman.
Bernardine sprung quickly to her feet; but it was not until she
attempted to take a step forward that she realized how weak she was.
"What are you intending to do?" asked the woman, sneeringly.
"Leave this place," replied Bernardine, sharply. "I have no idea as to
why I was brought here; but I do not intend to stop for explanations.
Step out of my way, please, and allow me to pass."
The woman laughed, and that laugh was not pleasant to hear.
"That is contrary to my orders. You are to remain here, in my charge,
under my eye, until--well, until the person who brought you here says
you may go."
Bernardine's dark eyes flashed; she looked amazed.
"Do you mean to infer that I am to be detained here--against my will?"
demanded the girl.
"That is as you choose to look at it, miss. I am to coax you to keep me
company here, and, if you refuse, to insist upon your doing so; and
finally, if it becomes necessary, to _make_ you accede to my wishes, or,
rather, the wishes of the one who brought you here."
Bernardine drew herself up to her full height, and looked at the woman
with unflinching eyes, saying, slowly:
"You have lent yourself to a most cruel scheme to entrap an innocent
girl; but know this: I would die by my own hand sooner than marry the
villain who had me conveyed in this most despicable way to this isolated
place. I have no doubt you know the whole story; but I say this: When my
poor father died, I was freed forever from the power of my mortal foe.
His sword fell from over my head, where he had held it suspended. He can
not pursue my hapless father beyond the gates of death."
"What you are talking about is an enigma to me," returned the woman,
grimly.
"If he has not told you the truth about this matter, listen to me, and
let me tell it," cried Bernardine, trembling with excitement. "I--I have
known this man who had me brought here for long years, and I know him
only to fear and distrust him--more than words can express.
"One day, quite by accident, he met me on the street--right before my
own door--and he stopped short, looking at me with evident admiration
expressed in his coarse face and glittering black eyes."
"'Ah, ha! you turn up your little nose at me, eh?' he cried. 'Well, you
shall be sorry for that, and in a fortnight, too, I'll warrant.'
"I would have passed him by without deigning him a reply; but he caught
me by the shoulder, and held me fast.
"'No, you don't move on like that!' he yelled in my ear, a great flush
rising to his already florid, wine-stained features. 'You shall kiss me,
my pretty, here and now!'
"I endeavored to pass him, but he still clutched me tightly, fiercely in
his strong grasp, and I--I dealt him a stinging blow across the face
with the palm of my hand.
"The action surprised him so that he released me from his grasp for a
single instant, and in that instant I darted away from him like a
startled hare.
"'You shall pay for this!' he cried, looking after me. 'He laughs best
who laughs last!'
"It was within a fortnight after that most unfortunate event that the
crisis came. My father sent for me, and told me he had had a proposal
for my hand.
"'The man who wants to marry you will make a great lady of you, my
girl,' said my father, eagerly. 'You are lucky! I repeat you are _very_
lucky! Why are you looking at me with troubled eyes,' he demanded, 'when
you ought to be clapping your hands in delight and asking me who it is?'
"'I am silent because I fear to inquire the name,' I replied, slowly,
'lest you should utter a name which I loathe.'
"'The man is rich,' he said, leaning forward eagerly.
"'Riches do not bring happiness,' I replied. 'I know of a man whom the
world calls rich, and yet I would not marry him if he had all the wealth
of the world to pour at my feet. But who is this man who has come to you
without even the formality of finding out if it was worth his
while--without deigning to take the trouble to find out if I could care
for him to the extent of becoming his wife?'
"'The son of our landlord,' replied my father, his voice a little husky.
"'Were I not so angry I should be amused,' I answered. 'If there was not
another man on the face of the earth, I would not marry Jasper Wilde.
I----'"
The woman had been listening to Bernardine's story indifferently enough
until she uttered that name. At the sound of it, she caught her breath
sharply, and sprung suddenly forward.
"What name did you say? What is the name of the man who wanted to marry
you?" she gasped. "Did I understand you to say Jasper Wilde?"
"Yes," replied Bernardine, wonderingly; and her wonder grew into the
utmost consternation when the woman fell at her feet shrieking with
rage.