The bay horse flew over the smooth road, the fresh air blew in their faces, lifting the soft curls from Berry’s white brow, and she felt like one in Elysium. She was dwelling in a new and beautiful world, the golden land of love. Yet, when her companion gently attempted to slip an arm about her waist, she decisively repulsed him. “No, no; you must not make so free--we are almost strangers,” she exclaimed, blushing warmly. “Strangers! Why I love you, little girl! Cannot you love me a little in return?” he pleaded. Berry was about to answer him yes, taking this for a proposal of marriage, when she suddenly remembered the gossip about his betrothal to Rosalind, and drawing back, she faltered tremulously: “But--but--they say that you are engaged to marry Miss Montague!” “Bah! What has that to do with your being my sweetheart, I wonder; she need not know about it,” laughed Charley Bonair, leaning as close to her as she would permit, for she was recoiling in perplexity, murmuring: “But is it true?” “Why, yes, little one, I’m to marry her some day, I suppose! Deuced pretty girl, you know, and in ‘my set,’ and all that--very proper, of course. But I mean to have as many sweethearts as I like, before and after the wedding, if you please!” If he had thrust a knife in her tender heart Berry could not have moaned more piteously, for all at once he seemed to her a monster instead of an adorable Prince Charming. With that heartbreaking little moan, she cried plaintively: “Oh, take me home, take me home quickly! Please, please, please!” And though the moon and stars still gleamed on as brightly as before, it seemed to her tortured mind as though the whole sky were veiled in inky darkness, and her dream of love and happiness had faded as before a chilling wintry blast. He had told her he was indeed to marry Rosalind, but that he should continue to have as many sweethearts as he pleased! He dared even think she would consent to be one of them! She began to tremble like a wind-blown leaf, and as he only laughed in answer to her pleading, she added wildly: “You are cruel; you are wicked, to be making love to me when you are to marry another! I will have no more to do with you, so there, there, there!” and tearing the roses from her breast and hair, Berry flung them in his face with the passionate fury of “the woman scorned.” “You dear little vixen!” he exclaimed, boisterously, without turning back. CHAPTER IV. LEGITIMATE GAME. To the gay young gallant, Berry’s anger only made her more charming. She had seemed too easy a prize before, for he had read her heart very quickly by the light of former experiences. A millionaire senator’s only son, and not many years older than Berry, he looked upon this poor young girl who had fallen in love with him so easily as only legitimate game if he could win her heart. Like a flash, it came to him with her bitter words that she could not be so lightly won, that she was proud and pure as she was fair.