Slowly her trembling hands dropped from her face, and, with bowed head, Bernardine went slowly down the path, out of the sound of the dance-music and the laughing voices, down to where the crickets were chirping amid the long grasses, and the wind was moaning among the tall pines and the thick alders. When she reached the brook she paused. It was very deep at this point--nearly ten feet, she had heard Miss Margaret say--and the bottom was covered with sharp, jagged rocks. That was what caused the hoarse, deep murmur as the swift-flowing water struck them in its hurried flight toward the sea. Bernardine leaned heavily against one of the tall pines, and gave vent to her grief. Why had God destined one young girl to have youth, beauty, wealth, and love, while the other had known only life's hardships? Miss Rogers' 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 noble 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."