Silently, but with happy heart and beaming eyes, the young girl gazed upon the scene that lay before her; then, walking to the center of the rustic bridge that spanned the stream from shore to shore, she leaned over the low railing and watched, with her mind teeming with pleasant visions of the future, her figure reflected as in a burnished mirror, upon the water beneath her.
Her sweet reverie was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, and a blush illumined her face as she thought she would soon greet her coming lover, and feel his strong arms about her. Turning her head a little, she saw another shadow there so distinctly traced that she had no difficulty in recognizing it, and she started in affright as she discovered that instead of Henry Schulte, the new-comer was none other than his enemy and hers, Nat Toner.
She would have yielded to an intuitive sense of danger, and fled from the spot, but Nat stepped quickly in the way and barred her passage, lifting his hat in mock reverence as he addressed her.
"Good evening, pretty Emerence, you look like a beautiful water sprite in the rays of this bright-beaming moon."
Did she imagine it, or was there a cold, hard ring in the voice that uttered these words, which filled her heart with an aching fear, and made her lips tremble as she acknowledged his salutation?
"You are waiting for Henry Schulte, I suppose!" he continued, in the same hard, mocking tone.
Mustering up all the latent courage which she possessed, she looked up unflinchingly, as she replied:
"I do not know that anyone has a right to question me upon my movements, or to assign a reason for my actions."
"Indeed, my pretty little spit-fire! You speak truly, but Nat Toner intends to assume a right which no one else possesses," answered Nat tauntingly, while his black eyes glistened in the moonlight with a baleful light.
"I cannot stop to listen further to such language, and must bid you good evening," said Emerence, drawing herself up haughtily, and turning to leave the bridge.