il she
returned; but when she did so, she cried out in alarm, for Bernardine's
face was of an ashen pallor, her dark eyes were like coals of fire, and
her hands were cold as death. The matron went up to her in great alarm,
and gently touched the bowed head.

"Bernardine," she murmured, gently--"Bernardine, my poor child, are you
ill? What has happened?"

After some little correspondence back and forth, Bernardine was accepted
by the lady, and in a fortnight more she was able to make the journey.

The matron went down to the depot with her, to see her off, and prayed
that the girl would not change her mind ere she reached her destination.

The train moved off, and she waved her handkerchief to the sweet, sad,
tear-stained face pressed close to the window-pane until a curve in the
road hid it from her sight; then she turned away with a sigh.

Bernardine fell back in her seat, not caring whether or not she lived to
reach her destination.

It was almost dusk when the train reached the lovely little village of
Lee, nestling like a bird's nest amid the sloping green hills.

Bernardine stepped from the car, then stood quite still on the platform,
and looked in bewilderment around her.

Mrs. Gardiner had written that she would send a conveyance to the
station to meet her; but Bernardine saw none.

While she was deliberating as to whether she should inquire the way to
the Gardiner place of the station agent, that individual suddenly turned
out the lights in the waiting-room, and in an instant had jumped on a
bicycle and dashed away, leaving Bernardine alone in a strange place.

At that moment, a man stepped briskly beneath the swinging light. One
glance, and she almost swooned from horror.

The man was Jasper Wilde!

CHAPTER XLIII.

For a moment it seemed to Bernardine as though she must surely fall dead
from fright as her startled gaze encountered her greatest enemy, Jasper
Wilde.

Had he followed her? Had he come all the way on the same train with her?

She realized that she was alone with him on this isolated railway
platform, miles perhaps from any habitation, any human being, far beyond
the reach of help.

The thick, heavy twilight had given place to a night of intense
darkness. The flickering light of the solitary gas-lamp over the station
door did not pierce the gloom more than three feet away. Bernardine did
not know this, and she sunk back in deadly fear behind one of the large,
old-fashioned