As they walked along, talking gravely, for Beatrice did not often laugh when alone with her lover, a slender and tall figure passed them quickly in the darkness.  Bertram, who was walking very close to Bee, stumbled against her, and uttered a smothered oath.

“What is the matter?” she asked in astonishment.  “Have you hurt yourself?”

“No, I thought I recognized a face, but I must be mistaken.”

“That slim girl who passed us so quickly just now?  I, too, fancy I have seen her before.  Certainly she is a stranger here.”

“Don’t talk about her, Beatrice.  It was a casual likeness.  People look so different—­distorted by the darkness.  To-night it is very dark.  There is no moon.”

“Still, I can see,” said Beatrice, pausing and looking back.  “I can see, and I fancy the stranger is standing still and looking at us.  Back there, by the hedge.  Perhaps she is in trouble.  Shall I run and speak to her?”

“No, not for the world.  Come home.  Forget her.”

His tone was almost rough.  They walked on rapidly.  The high wind of a coming storm beat in their faces.  Beatrice felt tired and dispirited, and Bertram’s agitation and complete change of manner puzzled her.

Presently they reached the house.

“Here we are at last; you will be glad of your supper,” she said.

“No, thanks, I am not coming in.”

“Not coming in?  You promised.  Mother expects you.”

“Excuse me to-night, Beatrice.  I have a headache.  I shall go straight home.  Good-night.  I’ll come down early in the morning.”

He took her hand, dropped it hastily, and almost before the door was opened, had turned away.  Beatrice did not go in at once.  She heard his quick, retreating steps.  Presently they quickened into a run.

CHAPTER XXVI.

WE WILL RETURN TO OUR SECLUSION.

“I am mad,” said Bertram to himself.  “Mad, as ever was the proverbial March hare.  That girl who passed us in the darkness was Josephine Hart.  Yes, that girl was Nina, and I must, I will, see her again.”

His heart was beating tumultuously; he felt the great passion of his love tingling through all his veins.  Money was nothing to him in this hour, debts were forgotten, disgrace and dishonor were nowhere.  Nina and love were all in all.  He would see her, he would kiss her, he would hold her in his arms, he would, he must.  The very elements helped him as he ran back to the place where he knew she had paused to watch him.  Why had she come back!  She knew her power only too well.  Why had she come to exercise it?  It was mad of her, wicked of her, it meant his ruin, and yet he was glad, yet he rejoiced.

The moments seemed endless until he could reach her.  Beatrice was as absolutely forgotten by him at this moment as if she had never existed.

At last he gained the spot where Josephine had brushed past him in the darkness.  He knew it, he knew the sudden curve of the road, the bend in the path where it began to dip downwards.  He stood still, and strained his eyes to look through the darkness.  No one was there.  Beatrice had seen the slender figure leaning against the hedge, but all now was emptiness and solitude.  Not a soul was in sight.  On this lonely road not a being but himself breathed.