"Leave this place," replied Bernardine, sharply. "I have no idea as to why I was brought here; but I do not intend to stop for explanations. Step out of my way, please, and allow me to pass."
The woman laughed, and that laugh was not pleasant to hear.
"That is contrary to my orders. You are to remain here, in my charge, under my eye, until—well, until the person who brought you here says you may go."
Bernardine's dark eyes flashed; she looked amazed.
"Do you mean to infer that I am to be detained here—against my will?" demanded the girl.
"That is as you choose to look at it, miss. I am to coax you to keep me company here, and, if you refuse, to insist upon your doing so; and finally, if it becomes necessary, to make you accede to my wishes, or, rather, the wishes of the one who brought you here."
Bernardine drew herself up to her full height, and looked at the woman with unflinching eyes, saying, slowly:
"You have lent yourself to a most cruel scheme to entrap an innocent girl; but know this: I would die by my own hand sooner than marry the villain who had me conveyed in this most despicable way to this isolated place. I have no doubt you know the whole story; but I say this: When my poor father died, I was freed forever from the power of my mortal foe. His sword fell from over my head, where he had held it suspended. He can not pursue my hapless father beyond the gates of death."
"What you are talking about is an enigma to me," returned the woman, grimly.
"If he has not told you the truth about this matter, listen to me, and let me tell it," cried Bernardine, trembling with excitement. "I—I have known this man who had me brought here for long years, and I know him only to fear and distrust him—more than words can express.