"My darling, Leslie Dane is no match for my little girl. He is poor and has nothing to recommend him but a handsome face, and a little talent for daubing with paints and pencils, while you are a beauty and an heiress, and can boast a proud descent. I have made my will, and it is there in my desk this moment. In it I have left you everything except one-third of my property, which my widow will legally inherit. Surely my generosity merits the one little return I ask of you. Simply that you will give up Leslie Dane." She looked up at him as he offered his costly bribe, and shook her head gravely. "You have been very kind to me always, uncle, I never knew you could be cruel until now. I thank you for your kind intention, but I will not give up Leslie for such a sordid bribe. Keep your money, and I will keep my love!" "I am not giving you the choice, girl," he answered, angrily. "I intend you to have the money whether you want it or not, and I have already said that you shall _never_ marry Leslie Dane." "And I say that I _will_ marry him!" she cried, springing up in a rage as passionate and unreasoning as his own, her blue eyes blazing with defiance. "You shall not prevent me! I love him better than any one else on earth, and I will marry him if I repent it every hour of my after life." So saying she rushed from the room, and pausing only to catch up a dark shawl and wrap it about her, she sped down the graveled walk on her way to seek her lover. She paused outside the gate, and crouching down, peered anxiously back to see if she was followed. The moon was up, shining brilliantly over everything. She saw her uncle come out on the piazza and drop into his favorite seat. Then the fragrance of a cigar floated out on the warm August air. Bonnibel hurried on down to the shore. Leslie Dane was waiting for her, pacing the sands impatiently in the soft moonlight. CHAPTER IV. Bonnibel ran forward and threw herself on her lover's breast in a passion of tears. "You know all then, my darling?" holding her fast against his wildly-throbbing heart. She could not speak for the sobs that came heaving from her aching little heart. Bonnibel had never wept so wildly in all her life. It seemed to her that she would die of her grief as she lay panting and weeping in Leslie's tender arms. "Do not weep so, my little love," he whispered. "We were too sanguine of success. But try to bear it bravely, my Bonnibel. We both are young. We can bear to wait a few years until my success is assured, and then I will claim you for my own in spite of all the world!" Bonnibel did not answer. She continued to sob heart-brokenly, and Leslie could feel her little heart beating wildly against his breast as if it would burst with the strain of her grief. So absorbed was he in trying to comfort the agitated girl that he did not hear the sound of an approaching footstep.