A faint belt of light over the eastern hills told her that dawn was not far off.
She found the horse and buggy where the woman had indicated, and with hands trembling with nervous excitement untied the bridle.
The animal scarcely gave her time to climb into the vehicle, ere he was off with the speed of the wind through the stubble fields of the old deserted farm and on to the high-road.
It was all that Bernardine could do to cling to the reins, let alone attempt to guide the animal, whose speed was increasing perceptibly at every step he took.
The trees, the wild flowers by the road-side, the dark pines and mile-posts, seemed to whirl past her, and she realized, with a terrible quaking of the heart, that the horse was getting beyond her control and was running away.
The light buggy seemed to fairly spin over the road without touching it. From a run, the horse had broken into a mad gallop, which the small white hands clinging to the reins was powerless to stop.
Suddenly from a bend in the road, as she reached it, she saw a horseman riding leisurely toward her on a chestnut mare which she recognized at once as belonging to the Gardiner stables. He could not be one of the grooms, nor could he be one of the guests astir at that hour; still, there was something familiar in the form of the man advancing toward her at an easy canter.
He seemed to take in the situation at a glance, and quickly drew back into the bushes to give the runaway horse full swing in the narrow road.
But as Bernardine advanced at that mad, flying pace, she heard the man shout:
"My horse, by all that is wonderful! But that isn't Mag in the buggy. Who in thunder can it be in that wagon, anyhow?"