"The same old, tiresome life," she says, yet even as she speaks she knows it will not be the same. Something has come into her life these brief, bright summer days that she knew not of in the old days--even love. "After to-morrow I shall never see him again," she says to herself with patient gravity, and there comes to her a shamed remembrance of his words that morning: "After to-morrow I shall be forever out of reach of your shrill voice and scolding tongue." "Forever!" The word, never dwelt upon before, acquires a strange, terrible meaning in her thoughts. She realizes, with a gasp of terror, what Maud's lover really is to her. Though she has gibed him, teased him, pitilessly derided him, she has given him her whole, foolish, girlish heart. She flushes hotly with a passionate shame. "I love him--when he will be Maud's husband in less than an hour!" she cries to herself. "For shame, Reine Langton. Shake off this disgraceful weakness, and be your own brave self again." There is a tap at the door, unheeded and unheard in her preoccupation. It opens, and the house-maid enters, flurried and excited. Reine starts up in a panic and looks at the clock. "Oh, dear, it is past the time," she cries. "How could I be so careless? Are they all waiting for me, Mary?" "No, Miss Langton--leastways I don't think they need you." "Not need me? What do you mean? Isn't the bride dressed yet?" "No, miss--yes, miss--that is, I don't quite know. _She's_ run away," the girl stammers, blankly. "Who has run away?" Reine demands, sharply. "The bride--Miss Maud," is the startling reply. "Where has she gone? What for?" Reine demands, inelegantly, in the shock of her great surprise. "To marry her old lover, Mr. Clyde, that she loved, and she couldn't love Mr. Charteris, miss," said the house-maid, succinctly. There is a moment's silence. Reine drops back into a chair, dazed with the suddenness of the news. "You see she left a little note to her uncle, miss, to let him know where she'd gone, and the old gentleman's that mad, miss, he up and swore bad enough to lift the roof off!" There is a quick, startling rap at the door. Mary runs to open it in a hurry, and Reine glances up with dark, anxious eyes. The next instant she starts to her feet with a smothered cry. On the threshold stands Vane Charteris, pale as death itself, but superbly handsome in the customary suit of solemn black that makes gentlemen appear like mourners on all festive occasions. CHAPTER III. Fifteen minutes before, while Reine Langton dreamed at the window, there had been great excitement in the villa. The house-maid's tale was a true one. The bride-elect has eloped with another man. They have the terrible story down in uncompromising "black and white"--in her own hand-writing. She has gone away to marry Mr. Clyde.