The light buggy seemed to fairly spin over the road without touching it. From a run, the horse had broken into a mad gallop, which the small white hands clinging to the reins was powerless to stop. Suddenly from a bend in the road, as she reached it, she saw a horseman riding leisurely toward her on a chestnut mare which she recognized at once as belonging to the Gardiner stables. He could not be one of the grooms, nor could he be one of the guests astir at that hour; still, there was something familiar in the form of the man advancing toward her at an easy canter. He seemed to take in the situation at a glance, and quickly drew back into the bushes to give the runaway horse full swing in the narrow road. But as Bernardine advanced at that mad, flying pace, she heard the man shout: "My horse, by all that is wonderful! But that isn't Mag in the buggy. Who in thunder can it be in that wagon, anyhow?" That loud, harsh voice! No wonder Bernardine's heart almost ceased beating as she heard it. It was the voice of Jasper Wilde. Only Heaven's mercy kept her from swooning outright, for she knew Jasper Wilde would recognize her as soon as he came abreast of her. This proved to be the case. "Bernardine Moore!" he shouted, hardly believing he had seen aright. For one moment of time he was taken so completely by surprise that he was quite incapable of action, and in that moment Bernardine's horse was many rods past him. "Yes, it is Bernardine Moore!" he cried out, excitedly. He did not ask himself how she happened to be there; he had no time for that. Cursing himself for the time he had lost through his astonishment at the discovery, he wheeled his horse about with so sharp a jerk that it almost brought the animal upon its haunches; then started in mad pursuit of the girl, shouting at the top of his voice to Bernardine to saw hard on both lines, and jerk quickly backward. To his intense rage, he saw Bernardine take out the whip and lay it on the back of the runaway horse, and it flashed across his mind what that meant. She had seen and recognized him as she flew past him. She knew he was hurrying after her, and she preferred death rather than that he should overtake her. Curses loud and deep broke from his lips. He yelled to her to draw rein; but she only urged the horse on the faster. He had searched the world over to find Bernardine Moore, and now that he had come across her by chance, she should not escape him like this. A mere chit of a girl should not outwit him in that fashion. A mad thought occurred to him. There was but one way of stopping that horse and overtaking Bernardine, and that was to draw his revolver and shoot the animal dead in its tracks. He liked the horse; but nothing on earth should prevent him from capturing the girl he still loved to desperation. To think, with him, was to act; and quick as a flash, he drew a weapon from his hip-pocket, and the loud report of a shot instantly followed. CHAPTER LVIII.