n into the garden; I
must speak with you. It is I, Lester Stanwick."

In a single instant the soft love-light had faded from her face,
leaving it cold, proud, and pitiless. A vague, nameless dread seized
her. She was a courageous girl; she would not let him know it.

"The mad fool!" she cried, clinching her white jeweled hands together.
"Why does he follow me here? What shall I do? I must buy him off at
any cost. I dare not defy him. Better temporize with him." She
muttered the words aloud, and she was shocked to see how changed and
hoarse her own voice sounded. "Women have faced more deadly peril than
this," she muttered, "and cleverly outwitted ingenious foes. I _must_
win by stratagem."

She quickly followed the tall figure down the path that divided the
little garden from the shrubbery.

"I knew you would not refuse me, Pluma," he said, clasping her hands
and kissing her cold lips. He noticed the glance she gave him had
nothing in it but coldness and annoyance. "You do not tell me you are
pleased to see me, Pluma, and yet you have promised to be my wife."
She stood perfectly still leaning against an oleander-tree. "Why don't
you speak to me, Pluma?" he cried. "By Heaven! I am almost beginning
to mistrust you. You remember your promise," he said, hurriedly--"if I
removed the overseer's niece from your path you were to reward me
with your heart and hand." She would have interrupted him, but he
silenced her with a gesture. "You said your love for Rex had turned to
bitter hatred. You found he loved the girl, and that would be a
glorious revenge. I did not have to resort to abducting her from the
seminary as we had planned. The bird flew into my grasp. I would have
placed her in the asylum you selected, but she eluded me by leaping
into the pit. I have been haunted by her face night and day ever
since. I see her face in crowds, in the depths of the silent forest,
her specter appears before me until I fly from it like one accursed."

She could not stay the passionate torrent of his words.

"Lester, this is all a mistake," she said; "you have not given me a
chance to speak." Her hands dropped nervously by her side. There were
fierce, rebellious thoughts in her heart, but she dare not give them
utterance. "What have I done to deserve all this?" she asked, trying
to assume a tender tone she was far from feeling.

"What have you done?" he cried, hoarsely. "Why, I left you at
Whitestone Hall, feeling secure in the beli