At that sudden and terrible-looking apparition, Jaquelina remained for a moment perfectly motionless.

Surprise and terror had rendered her for the time perfectly incapable of speech or motion.

Meanwhile the gleaming black eyes of the man, looking inordinately large and fierce in his blackened face, were riveted upon her beautiful, pallid features.

"Miss Meredith, do you not know me?" he asked, breaking the silence at last, in a low, deep, angry voice.

Jaquelina shivered and started at that intense voice. His name fell from her lips in a gasp:

"Gerald Huntington!"

"Yes," he said, bitterly. "Gerald Huntington! I see you have not forgotten me. My tattered garb, my blackened face are not sufficient to hide your victim from your keen eyes."

He held up his hands, that were blackened also, and she shivered as she saw the heavy handcuffs that were still clasped about his wrists, though the strong chain that had bound them together was filed in half.

"I have escaped from the prison to which you betrayed me," he said to her in a tone of fierce triumph and joy.

In all the terror of that moment Jaquelina felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted off her heart.

"Before God, I am glad!" she broke out fervently, clasping her small hands together while her dark eyes sparkled with joy.

But a scowl of withering scorn and unbelief broke over the dark features of the outlaw, transforming them to the semblance of a demon's.

Jaquelina was reminded irresistibly of the vivid words in which Byron had described the Corsair.

"Do not lie to me, Miss Meredith," exclaimed Gerald Huntington, with that terrible sneer still curling his closely-shaven lips. "Do not lie to me in hope of turning aside the shaft of my deadly revenge. I have sworn to punish you, and I shall keep my vow. You pretend to a penitence you do not feel; I have not the least doubt that you would be glad to deliver me up to justice this minute."

"No, I would not," replied Jaquelina earnestly. She was getting over the first shock of her surprise and terror, and her young face looked brave and almost fearless as she lifted it in the dim light. "I would not for worlds betray you to your foes again. See how quietly I sit here without raising my voice, or trying to alarm anyone."

"That is because you are afraid of me," he said, mockingly, as he put his hand in his bosom that she might hear the click of his threatening weapon. "I am a desperate man, and you know it, Miss Meredith. If you tried to raise an alarm I should immediately shoot you."

They looked at each other a moment silently across the narrow strip of singing water.

A braver heart than little Jaquelina's might have quailed at his aspect, the murderous gleam in his eyes might have daunted a heart less true and pure than hers, but he did not see her tremble as she answered earnestly:

"I do not intend to raise an alarm, Mr. Huntington. On the contrary, I am willing, and even anxious, to do you a kindness if it lies in my power. Is there aught I can do for you? Are you thirsty or hungry? If so, let me bring you food and drink."

He stared at her with a muttered curse.

"So you are laying a trap to ensnare me," he said, roughly. "No, thank you, fair lady, I am not ready to fall into your power so easily. Perhaps, now, you would lend me a horse to carry me a few miles to-night out of danger's reach, since you are so kindly disposed toward me," sneeringly.

The young moon rising over the hills threw a beam upon Jaquelina's face, showing it white and troubled and earnest.

"I—have no horse of my own," she said, hesitatingly. "If I should lend you one of my uncle's, might I dare hope that you would turn it loose after a few miles, and let it come back?"

"No, you might not dare to hope," he said, mockingly. "I ask no favors at your hands. It would spoil the sweet flavor of my revenge. I am not friendless as you suppose. I have a purse of gold in my breast and a swift horse waiting for me not a mile away from here. I but turned aside from my way for one look at the fair flower-face that beguiled me to my ruin. And now that I have seen you, lovely Jaquelina, I am loath to part from you again; I am tempted to take you away with me, and make you an outlaw's cherished and fondly worshiped bride."

With a low cry of sudden fear and alarm, Jaquelina sprang up and turned to flee.

But her enemy was too swift for her. At a single bound he cleared the brook, and before she had run a dozen rods he caught her arm in a grasp of steel.

She turned toward him with a white imploring face and frightened eyes.

"Let me go," she panted, with failing breath. "I cannot go with you, I cannot be your wife!"

He laughed scornfully.

"You shall go free," he said. "Do not be frightened—the time for my revenge is not yet. I shall only dash the cup of joy from your lips when it is so full that a rose-leaf will cause it to overflow. I am going now; but remember this truth, my fair enemy, I am not powerless. I am only biding my time. In the moment that is the happiest of your whole life I shall take my revenge!"

He threw her wrathfully from him, and in a moment had disappeared from sight and hearing. Jaquelina lay half-stunned a moment in the long, dewy grass where she had fallen, her heart thrilling with a dumb, prescient fear and dread.

"In the moment that is the happiest of your whole life I will take my revenge," Gerald Huntington had said, and those words had strangely recalled the words of her lover's letter.

"In the moment when you give yourself to me—the happiest moment of my life!" Ronald Valchester had written; and Jaquelina shivered with a nameless dread and terror, for she knew that that moment would be the happiest one of her whole life also.