your daughter consent to marry me? I could not make head or tail out of your letter."

"Bernardine's answer is - yes," murmured the old man, almost incoherently. "She consents for my sake; though Heaven knows I'm not worth the sacrifice."

"Sacrifice!" repeated Jasper Wilde in a high, harsh voice. "Come, now, that's too good. It's me that's making the sacrifice, by cheating the hangman and justice of their just due, Moore; and don't you forget it."

Sooner than he expected, Bernardine made her appearance. Jasper Wilde sprung up to welcome her, both hands outstretched, his eyes fairly gloating over the vision of pure girlish loveliness which she presented. She drew back, waving him from her with such apparent loathing that he was furious.

"I do not pretend to welcome you, Jasper Wilde," she said, "for that would be acting a lie from which my soul revolts. I will say at once what you have come here tonight to hear from my lips. I will marry you - to - save - my - poor - father," she stammered. "I used to think the days of buying and selling human beings were over; but it seems not. The white slave you buy will make no murmur in the after years; only I shall pray that my life will not be a long one."

Jasper Wilde frowned darkly. "You are determined to play the high and mighty tragedy queen with me, Bernardine," he cried. "Take care that your ways do not turn my love for you into hate! Beware, I tell you! A smile would bring me to your feet, a scornful curl of those red lips would raise a demon in me that you would regret if you aroused it."

"Your hate or your love is a matter of equal indifference to me," returned the young girl, proudly.

This remark made him furious with wrath. "You love that white-handed fellow whom I met the last time I was here. That's what makes you so indifferent to me!" he cried, hoarsely. "Speak! Is it not so?"

"Yes," replied Bernardine, cresting her beautiful head, proudly. "Yes, I love him, and I do not fear to tell you so!"

"Then, by Heaven! I will kill him on sight!" cried Jasper Wilde. "I will not brook a rival for your affections! The man you love is doomed!"

CHAPTER XX."IT WOULD BE WISER TO MAKE A FRIEND THAN AN ENEMY OF ME."

Bernardine Moore drew herself up to her full height, and looked the scorn 

 Prev. P 45/179 next